Page 21 of Pregnant in Plaid
Trace settles onto the couch next to me—close enough that I can feel the warmth radiating off him but not quite touching. Like he's not sure if he's allowed yet. The uncertainty is oddly endearingcoming from a man who looks like he could bench-press a small car.
"Okay," he says, leaning forward to study the sticky note chaos. "Walk us through it."
Tessa's eyes light up with the intensity of someone who's been waiting her entire life for this exact question. She grabs the first list with the flourish of a game show host revealing a prize.
"First priority: housing. Patrice, where are you planning to stay?"
The question hits like a bucket of ice water. "I've got a hotel room. The Moosehead Lodge here in Ashwood Falls for the weekend, then I have a place booked in Anchorage for my first week. I start work Monday, so I'll apartment hunt during the week and?—"
"Wait." Trace leans forward, his expression darkening. "You're staying at a hotel? This weekend? While you're here?"
"Yes? That's what people do when they travel, Trace. They stay in hotels."
"Not seven months pregnant people," he says, and there's that edge in his voice again. "Not when—" He stops himself, jaw clenching. "Where are you staying after the wedding?"
"I just told you. Anchorage. For my new job."
"And tonight? Tomorrow night?"
"The Moosehead Lodge," I repeat slowly, like I'm talking to someone who doesn't speak English. "I made a reservation."
"Cancel it."
Three pairs of eyes turn to stare at him.
"Excuse me?" I say carefully.
"Cancel the reservation." Trace stands, and suddenly the living room feels smaller. "You're not staying at some hotel. You're staying at my place. With me."
"With you?" The words come out higher than I intended. "We barely know each other!"
"We know each other well enough that you're carrying my child," he shoots back. "That's not staying at a hotel territory. That's staying with family territory."
"We're not family?—"
"We will be in two months!" His voice rises, and I can see him fighting for control. "You flew across the country seven months pregnant alone. You hid this from me for months. And now you're telling me you're planning to stay in a hotel and then just... what? Move to Anchorage and apartment hunt while seven months pregnant?"
"That's exactly what I'm telling you," I snap, standing too—which is significantly less dramatic when it takes three tries and a hand on the armrest. "Because that's my plan. My life. My decision."
"Our baby," he corrects, and the intensity in his eyes makes my breath catch. "Our responsibility. And you're not doing this alone anymore."
"Trace," Gage says quietly from his spot by thefireplace. "Maybe?—"
"No." Trace doesn't look away from me. "She's not staying at a hotel. End of discussion."
"You don't get to make that call," I say, even though part of me—a tired, scared part—wants to let him.
"Fine." He crosses his arms. "Then stay here. With Tessa and Gage."
"I—" I turn to Tessa, who's been watching this exchange like a tennis match. "If that's okay?"
"Of course it's okay!" Tessa says immediately. "You're always welcome here, you know that."
"They only have one bedroom," Trace says flatly.
Everyone freezes.
"What?" I ask.
