Page 25 of Trash the Dress

“I can come with you if you want,” she says.

“Zander may go with me,” I admit out loud. I’m still not sure if that’s the best idea, but if he’s telling the truth about being all in, I’d like to be a united front on things concerning our baby.

“Really? That’s good…I think,” she says.

“I hope so. It’ll be a test run to see how well we fare under pressure.”

My phone vibrates against my hand, signaling another call. I glance at the display to find it’s Zander. “Hey, Anna, let me call you back. Zander is calling. I need to answer,” I say.

She laughs and says, “He’s already stealing my bestie away. But for some reason I seem to like him better than I ever liked Eric from day one, and I don’t know much about him. Call me back later. I can come back to Greendale Valley if you need me. Love you, hunny-bunny.”

“Love you too, tootsie-wootsie.”

I sit up and switch over to answer his call. “Hello?”

“Hi, it’s Zander,” he says.

“So it is,” I say and silently berate myself. Why am I so awkward with this man?

“Uh, can you let me in?” he asks.

“Let you in? Let you in where?” I ask as I search the room like he’ll appear out of thin air.

“I’m here, at your door.”

I jump up from the bed and dart to the bathroom to check my appearance. My hair is wild, and my mascara is smudged from lying across the bed with my arm over my eyes. I set the phone on the side of the sink and run some water, wetting a washcloth to wipe under my eyes.

I hear a soft knock at the door and stand taller. I still look disheveled, but it’ll have to do considering he’s right outside my door. I end the call and hurry to the door before looking through the peephole to make sure it’s him. Sure enough, he stands there waiting on the other side.

I take one more glance around the room I’ve been calling home for the last week and cringe when I see it’s not as tidy as I’d like it to be. I spy my bra on one of the chairs reminding me I’m not wearing it. A quick glance down and I see my pebbled nipples through my oversized T-shirt. Heat rushes up my neck and face. But I have no time.

I open the door and gaze into his dark eyes. My breath hitches when I catch his eyes move toward my chest. I notice his pupils get larger before his gaze finds my own again. He holds up a brown paper bag. “I uh, I thought you might want something to eat,” he rushes out.

I smile and wave him in. “How’d you know what room I was in?”

“Oh, when you said you were staying here, I called and told them I had a food order for you,” he says.

I cross my arms. “That seems to me to be on the illegal side, or at the very least unethical. What if you were a serial killer or a crazy ex-boyfriend?”

He turns slightly red. I’ve never seen a man like Zander Bailey get embarrassed before and I’m here for it.

“I didn’t mean to intrude. It was a last-minute thought. The Barnettes would never give out sensitive information to someone if they didn’t know them or thought it jeopardized safety. This is a small town, and they know lots of people love our food at High Road Bar. I played on that. Sorry, I should’ve called you ahead of time.”

I wave my hand in the air to signal it’s okay. “I understand. No harm done.” I wait for him to hand over the bag of food, but he stares instead.

“Can I have what you brought?” I ask.

“Yeah, sure. I wasn’t sure what you might be craving, if anything, so I made you my favorite burger and some fries. I brought another ginger ale and a chocolate shake,” he says while handing me the bag and setting the drinks on the small table in the corner of the room.

His gaze lands on my bra that just so happens to be slung over the chair in front of him. He turns, sneaking a peek at me again, and letting his stare fall to my pebbled nipples. His nostrils flare as he glances back at my face.

“Yeah, sorry about this.” I open my arms and gesture across my chest. “Sore boobs are no joke. You’re lucky I’m wearing a shirt at all. Before I got sick and found out I was pregnant, I kept wondering why they hurt so bad. I mean, they get sore when you’re about to start your period too, but this is a whole other level,” I tell him.

“Scarlett,” he says my name in a raspy, almost pleading voice.

I sit down in the chair that has said bra on display and open the bag he brought. It smells delicious. How could he possibly know what I want to eat? Is he for real right now? This man must be flawed somehow. Then it dawns on me, I’m going to fall for this handsome-but-grumpy man if I’m not careful. I find myselfsilently wondering how you wouldn’t love the man you’re about to experience having a child with. I guess I can love him without being “in love” with him. I just hope my heart knows where that line is.

“Aren’t you going to eat with me? It’s not polite to watch someone eat, you know.”

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