Page 54 of Before You Go

Watching her sleep is slowly becoming my favorite pastime, or maybe it’s just being around her, that is. I feel oddly at ease when she’s close, and way more centered than I normally do. Even if we’re just watching TV or hanging out, there is no outside noise trying to intrude. My mind is just quiet. I’ve never had that with anyone, not even my brothers.

When she lets out a quiet snore, I smile. I did some research and found out that most women who are pregnant need around ten hours of sleep a day, and even though she said she’s been sleeping better since she got an eye mask to block out the light in her apartment, every time she comes up to my place, she falls asleep without fail. Like today after a late lunch, because she had breakfast with a friend, she fell asleep thirty minutes into the show I turned on for us to watch and has been out for about an hour—maybe a little longer than that.

I’ve thought about talking to Clay about putting in some kind of motorized blinds for her to use, but I’m selfish as fuck and afraid that if I do that, I won’t see her as often as I do now. Which has been every day since last weekend when I told her about my parents.

Scrubbing my hands down my face, I let my head fall to the back of the couch. I still don’t know why I told her about my mom and dad. It’s not something I’ve spoken about with anyone besides my brothers, and even with them, I’ve avoided the topic for years. Maybe I was testing her, seeing if—when she learned the truth—she’d stop looking at me like I’m somehow important to her. Or maybe I was trying to push her away after the evening we had together with my family, an evening that made me want more with her, more of her.

Whatever the reason, I regretted it immediately and hated myself for shoving my past in her face the way I did.

Lifting my head when her cell starts to ring on the coffee table, I lean forward and pick it up before it can wake her, hitting the side button and sending the call to voicemail when I see it’s Matthew calling. I’ve got to give it to the guy; he is tenacious. Then again, after having her around for the last few weeks, I can understand how hard she’d be to let go of.

But that doesn’t mean his constant calling and texting doesn’t annoy the fuck out of me.

Putting her cell on silent, I drop it back to the table, then turn her way when her soft, sleepy voice asks, “Was that Matthew?”

“Yep,” I mutter, and she rolls her eyes before looking at the TV.

“How many episodes did I miss this time?”

“Only one and a half.”

“We’re never going to make it through this series at the rate I’m going.”

“It’s a good thing I don’t mind rewatching the same episode three times.” I smile, and she laughs while pushing herself up to sit.

“What time is it?” she asks.

“A little after four.”

“Crap.” Her eyes slide closed. “I need to leave soon. Molly is coming over at five to get ready for tonight.”

“The event doesn’t start until eight.” An event I’m not looking forward to going to but am obligated to attend because Hoffner—the man hosting it—is a major donor in the political world, so Billy expects all of us to show up. And unfortunately, with Jamie being back at work this past week, she will likely be there this evening, which could get messy, since Billy’s wife will be there too. It’s something I already warned Franny about at lunch.

Though, like I told Franny, ever since Jamie’s been back at the office after Billy’s announcement, she’s been different. She’s kept her distance and been nothing but professional. I haven’t even seen her seek Billy out, making me wonder what’s going on there. And I also wonder if Franny was right—if he told Jamie that his relationship with his wife was on the rocks in order to sleep with her, and then she found out that wasn’t the case, so she cut him off.

“I know, but unlike you, I need to do more than just get dressed in order to look presentable. I need to shower and do something with my hair and my face, which is a whole process.”

“You look beautiful all the time.”

“Whatever you say, big guy.” She laughs, then adds, “Molly also asked me to do her makeup and help with her hair, so that’s going to take time, too.” She studies me for a long moment, then asks softly, “Do you want to drive together?”

The way her question comes out—tentative, almost shy—pulls my answer out of me without hesitation. “Yeah.”

“Cool.” She seems to have to force her gaze off mine. “I guess I should go.”

Fuck, it feels good that she’s as reluctant to leave as I am to let her go, which happens each time she’s here.

As she gets up off the couch, PJ—who fell asleep on the dog bed I got him for my place—lifts his head to watch his mom as she grabs her cell phone. “Are you ready to go home?” she asks him, and he drops his head back to his paws. “I guess not.”

Laughing, I get to my feet, and she tips her head back to look up at me. “I’ll bring him down with me when I come to get you.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah, I’ll take him out and let him run for a bit in the back of Clay’s, so he can burn off some energy.”

“You’re the best.” She rests her hands against my waist as she leans up on her tiptoes, and without thinking, I dip my chin and press my mouth to hers.

I hear her sharp inhale of breath as our lips touch before she pulls back quickly, her eyes wide.

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