Page 152 of Darling Obsession

“Ibelongto you? That’s how you see it?”

His jaw does that crackling thing that is never a good sign. “That baby in your belly belongs to me.”

I lay my hands on my belly protectively. “This baby isours,” I correct him calmly. “Which means Jameson and Megan are the baby’s family, too.”

“You can’t design their wedding cake, Quinn.”

I sigh in frustration. Does he really think this is about a damn cake?

When we pull into his driveway and park in front of his front door, he opens the door of the SUV, and I follow him out. He helps me down, and holds my hand as he walks me into the house.

I want to be here. I really do. I’ve wanted to be in his house, in his arms, for weeks.

But not like this.

Not when there’s this terrible distance between us. I can feel the jagged edges of his emotions right now, and surely he can feel mine.

Fucking isn’t going to make them all go away.

It would be a delicious distraction, but that’s not nearly enough.

We left any possibility of having that kind of only-skin-deep sexual relationship behind the moment I found out I was pregnant.

As soon as we’re alone in his foyer, I stop in my tracks and say, “I guess you’re not taking me to your brother’s wedding, either? You’d rather keep me hidden away from your siblings like some dirty secret.”

He frowns.

“Are you ever going to introduce them to this baby? Or are you just going to hide their little niece or nephew in the closet every time they come over?”

He gives me a look that says I’m really asking for that spanking. Then says, “I can take you to the wedding if that’s what you want.”

I’m actually shocked he’d say that. I’ll be massively pregnant when Jameson and Megan get married. “As what? Your pregnant friend?”

He gives me a long look. “We’re not friends, remember?”

I’m starting to feel nauseous, and try to swallow the rising feeling. “I need to sit down.”

“What’s wrong?” Instantly, he grabs my arm and gets in my face. “Do you feel faint?”

“No. I just feel sick.”

He walks me over to a bench and sits me down. “You’re sick? Since when?”

“Notsicksick.”

He crouches in front of me. “Are you in pain? I’ll call the doctor.”

“Harlan, stop. It’s fine. Really. It’s just morning sickness.”

“It’s almost ten o’clock at night.”

“Yeah. It’s a real misnomer. It comes on at any time of day or night it damn well pleases.”

His eyebrows draw together. “Well, what fixes it?”

That’s such a Harlan question, I have to smile a little. “Nothing, really. Sometimes eating a bit. Mostly I just need… comfort.”

He blinks at me, and I sigh. Because clearly I just spoke to him in a language he doesn’t understand.

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