Page 148 of Promise Me Not

“He is,” I promise, a small frown building, one that doubles when I realize he’s not beside me like he should be. “Why are you so far away?”

My arm stretches out, my hand seeking his, but he only smiles, his head tipping a little. “I’m right here, baby…”

“Ma, mm, mm.”

My smile forms before my eyes peel open, locking on to a matching pair of blue ones.

I laugh, grunting when Deaton pushes on my belly and practically throws himself on top of me. “Well, good morning to you, too, mister.”

Mason chuckles, reaching over and lifting him off, pushing him into the air and flying him above us like he’s an airplane. “Say, ‘Mama, we’ve been up for so long, and we’re starving. We want waffles.’”

Tugging the blanket up to my chest, I turn in the bed, meeting Mason’s eyes over the covers. “Hi.”

His grin stretches, and he leans over, pressing his lips to my forehead. “Hi. I’ve got you guys here for one more day, and you’re wasting it.”

I gape, and he chuckles, climbing from the bed with Deaton in his arms.

“Little D is changed and dressed, and he ate half a jar of that nasty oatmeal stuff. My sister’s in the lobby with Noah, so we’re heading down to meet them by the pond.” He buckles him into the stroller as I sit up in the bed, then comes back this way, leaning over me with a smirk that makes my body heat. The heat of his lips washes over mine as he whispers against them, “Get that perfect little ass outta bed, Pretty Little. Your boys will be waiting.”

I close my eyes, but the pressure of his mouth never comes.

The soft click of the door follows, and I throw myself back in the bed with a sigh, but I can’t wipe the smile from my face.

It’s May, which means Mason’s semester is almost over. Soon, I’ll have him for more than random weekends and holidays. At one point this summer, I’ll have him for several weeks straight.

The kindling flame in my belly grows at the thought, and I know if I sit here and think too hard on it, that flame will grow into an inferno. I can’t have that.

It’s hard enough not to beg him for things he’s yet to offer, even if I know it’s for my benefit.

He’d give me anything I wanted at any moment. That much I know.

It’s obvious and written in the way he looks at me, the way he touches me.

The way he tries his bestnotto touch me.

There’s a hint of torture in his dark gaze when we’re alone, and it only makes me want him more. There isn’t a single part of this…whatever this is between us that isn’t terrifying.

We’ve never really talked about what’s happening here, and maybe that’s because the words never seemed necessary. We’re just so effortless.

We slid right into friendship and, along the way, fell into something more.

Somethingreal.

A sliver of guilt slips down my spine, and I tense, taking my memories back to a little over a year ago when my life took its first turn and I found out I was pregnant.

Not long after that the boy I loved left this earth.

It all feels so long ago and like yesterday at the same time.

If anyone asked me then if I thought I’d make it through that first year…well, I would have lied and said yes, but in my mind,I’d be screaming no. That I can’t do it and don’t want to. That it was all too much, and I wasn’t strong or ready.

I would have been wrong.

I might not have been ready, but I was strong.

I am strong.

The man waiting for me downstairs helped me see that.

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