Page 18 of Teasing a King

By the time 2pm rolls around—the agreed upon time for Mya’s visit—I’m a nervous wreck. I’ve changed my shirt three times. I’ve scrubbed every inch of the already clean house. I’ve vacuumed and dusted and cleaned the baseboards. I’d been using the spare rooms as storage space, but today I moved all the boxes to the garage and made sure the bedrooms were spotless. If Mya decides to accept my offer, I want her to be able to move in as soon as she’s ready.

When I’m finally content with the cleanliness of the house, I walk through each room, trying to see it with fresh eyes. I want to see it as Mya will. I know it’s a great house, but I’m biased. I love this place. I’ve loved it since the moment I set eyes on it. It’s why I bought it. I could see its potential even when it was run-down and ramshackle. Now, it’s just as I pictured it nearly a year ago, but I’m worried Mya won’t like it. What if her tastes are the opposite of mine? Maybe I can change things if she hates something. I can do that. I just want her to feel at home here.

Before last night, I hadn’t considered the idea of Mya and the baby living here. But then she and Quinn had started talking about pregnancy symptoms, commiserating with one another knowingly. When Ronan had chimed in, talking about how much Quinn’s morning sickness had worried him, it made me realize that Mya has been going through all of this alone. She’s been dealing with morning sickness and fatigue and hormonal changes with no one to lean on. No one to help her. She deserves to have someone by her side. A partner. Someone she can count on to be there with her through all of it.

Once the idea had popped into my head, it had felt right. She and I may not have started our journey to parenthood in the most traditional way, but I’d still like for us to become a family. Living together is a great way to make that happen. This way, I’ll be here for her through the pregnancy, helping with whatever she needs. After the baby comes, I can help share the parenting duties. I’d meant what I told her last night. I want to be as equal a parent as possible.

I think of the way my own parents had raised me and my siblings. They’d both been totally hands-on with their kids. My dad hadn’t missed one of his sons' baseball games or his daughter’s dance recitals. He’d been there beside my mom, cheering us on through all of it. Wyatt and I had only been 17 when the car accident claimed their lives. It’s not easy to think of my parents without feeling the pain of losing them at such a young age, but I try to focus on all the good memories I have of them. And there are plenty. Abby and Marcus King were amazing parents. I want to be the same kind of parent to my child. No matter what happens with me and Mya, I won’t be an absentee father. Now, I just need to convince Mya that this is the best place for her and our baby.

The doorbell rings, pulling me abruptly from my thoughts and making my heart race. I wipe my sweaty hands on my pants and take a deep breath as I make my way to the front door. I open the door to see Mya standing there, a hesitant smile on her face.

“Hi,” she says.

Smiling widely, I open the door. “Come in. I’m glad you came.”

She directs her gaze to the interior of the house as she walks past me. I watch her as she takes everything in, my nerves making me chatter on. I ask her if she had trouble finding the place. She gives me a wry look.

“I hope you didn’t have trouble finding the place,” I say, trying to fill the silence.

“Oak Hill isn’t exactly a big town, Van,” she says, smiling.

“Right.” I nod, feeling stupid.

“GPS,” she says with a little laugh. “You’re easy to tease, you know that?”

I shake my head. “Not usually,” I say. “But I seem to make an exception with you.”

Mya holds my gaze for a moment. I think she might be about to say something, but she turns away instead. I tamp down the disappointment I feel.

“Your home is beautiful,” she says. “I don’t know what it looked like before, but you’ve done a great job with it.”

I look around the foyer with pride, taking in the gleaming hardwood floors and the freshly painted walls. “Thank you,” I say. “It feels good to know all that work wasn’t in vain. Let me give you the tour.”

Mya nods, following me as I lead her through the main floor. I show her the living room, watching as she takes everything in. She walks over to the large windows that look out over the backyard and peers out. I wince, knowing the yard isn’t nearly finished yet.

“I’ve still got a lot more work to do outside,” I say, coming over to stand beside her at the pile of pavers that will eventually be a patio. “I’m going to have a firepit over there.” I point to one corner of the yard. “I want to have a seating area around it. I was thinking about an outdoor kitchen, but that’s probably a long way off.” I point to a large, empty area.

“I could put a swing set or a playhouse over there,” I say. “For when the baby gets a little older.”

I hear Mya’s breath catch. It’s barely audible and it only lasts for a split second, but I hear it. She looks over to where I’m pointing and nods.

“That sounds amazing,” she says softly. “You have a good vision.”

I smile and shake my head. “I’ve just spent a lot of time watching home and garden shows on TV,” I say. “And hitting up Google.”

Mya grins. “Well, you’ve done a great job so far,” she says.

I shrug. “Fake it ‘til you make it.” I tip my head in the direction of the kitchen. “Let me show you the rest of the house.”

She nods and follows me as I lead her through the kitchen and dining room with little commentary. Mya admires the kitchen and the large granite island I’d had installed. Eventually, we make our way upstairs. I decide to start with the room that will be the nursery. It’s still empty, of course. I haven’t had time to buy a crib or a changing table or any of the other things that a baby needs. Not that I even know what a baby needs.

“I thought this could be a good room for the baby,” I say, wishing I knew what she’s thinking. She says nothing as she gazes around the empty room. I go on, needing to say something to fill the silence. “I haven’t had a chance to buy anything. Maybe we could do that together?” Mya looks over at me, a hint of surprise in her expression.

“I’d like that,” she says.

I smile back, not letting on how happy the simple sentence makes me. I show her the bathroom and beyond that, the room I’m hoping will be hers. If she agrees to move in with me, of course. I save my own room for last, almost as an afterthought. I don’t want her to get the wrong idea. I’m not inviting her to move in so I can get her into my bed. I don’t want her to feel like I’m pressuring her into some kind of lewd arrangement. I open the door to my bedroom and stand back, letting her decide if she wants to enter. Unlike the other rooms I’ve shown her today, Mya elects not to go inside. She stands in the doorway and looks around for a few seconds before turning back toward the hallway. Am I imagining the slight flush of her skin?

“Your house is really lovely,” she says, walking back toward the stairs quickly. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say she’s trying to put distance between herself and my bedroom. Which is utterly ridiculous. Right?

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