Page 71 of Sugar
My eyes trace along her face, pleased to see she indeed looks rested. I amble up the porch steps and reach for the beer, taking a long sip as I lean against the railing in front of her. I note traces of her fucking soap in the air and fight the urge to lean in. “You look good,” I tell her. “Very . . . clean.”
She laughs. “Well, that’s a relief. Though I can’t say the same for you.” Her eyes dip down to my stained shirt and dirty jeans, and she grimaces. “You stink,” she says evenly.
“Now I remember why I never wanted a wife,” I mutter, pushing off the railing toward the front door. “Still good with dinner?”
“Yep,” she calls out behind me.
I let the front door swing shut behind me and release a long, long breath.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
AVA
Ikeep things simple for tonight’s dinner, opting for my favorite pair of jeans and a comfortable white V-neck that’s just oversized enough to not make me feel insecure. I’ve noticed a definite rounding of my stomach in the last week, bringing forth feelings of immeasurable joy and debilitating fear. If I’d have pictured what my life would be like even just a year ago, the last thing I would’ve ever imagined would be sitting in the guest bedroom of Kasey’s cabin, a wedding ring on my finger and a baby in my belly. Especially considering it’s nothisbaby.
I won’t be able to hide this pregnancy for too much longer—I have maybe a month, six weeks at most. A part of me feels like I should rip the Band-Aid and tell everyone about my pregnancy now, but another part of me—an achingly tired and more desperate part—wants to hide it forever. To get through this marriage and find a way to run away again before I have to face the judgement I know is coming.
The longer I wait, the more I risk someone discovering it and wrongfully assuming the baby is Kasey’s. I’d never be able to forgive myself if word got around that we might happily beexpecting our first child together, knowing what that might do to him, to his family.
Especially after he already offered to help me, to take responsibility.
My heart clenches at the sheer selflessness.
Kasey is the kind of man Tobias could never, ever hope to be. Not when his first instinct was to give me all the reasons I should end the pregnancy, and then take it to the partners to use against me when I refused. I haven’t heard from him in weeks, and it makes me anxious. It could be that he’s finally given up on trying to control me, but he’s not exactly the type to give up when someone around him doesn’t submit.
I sigh, leaning over to pull on the old boots I brought over from my dad’s house, figuring it’s time to get over my general boycott of a practical wardrobe. I’ve held on to my tailored suits and pencil skirts for as long as I could, to every scrap of power I was able to create for myself outside of the walls of this town, but that’s over now. Plus, Kasey’s right—the heels were starting to hurt.
The boots still fit like a dream, and I can’t deny how much more comfortable they are. At least it’ll make Kasey happy to see I’ve finally made the switch.Notthat I’m particularly interested in making him happy.
Standing to go meet Kasey out in the living room, I’m surprised to find him hovering in the open doorway, watching me with an unreadable expression on his face. “You ready?” he asks, shifting his weight from one foot to the other.
“How long have you been standing there?”
He shrugs. “Not long.” But I can tell from how he quickly looks away, trying to hide a dark expression, that he’s been watching me for a while.
“Liar,” I tease.
He rolls his eyes, muttering, “You still thinkveryhighly of yourself.”
The insult lands roughly, though I’m not surprised—he’s said much worse. Still, after the last few days of seeminglygetting alongwith him, the words hurt. But when I really look at him, I realize he’s . . . anxious. Maybe a little bothered. “You okay?”
“Fine.” But his hands clench into fists at his sides as he seems to be getting more and more worked up about something. “Let’s go.”
I frown, deciding it best to listen as I head toward the bedroom door. But instead of turning to walk down the hallway in front of me, Kasey flattens himself against the wall to let me pass. As I brush past him, I hear the unmistakable sound of his deep inhale, feel the faintest flutter of his nose against the top of my head.
Oh.Oh.
Heat pools low in my belly as I realize Kasey’s not irritated—at least not in the way I thought. He’s . . . turned on. And he’s trying to fight it.
The ego of a half feral cat blooms inside of me, stretching out and scratching at the door to be let loose. Suddenly, this feels like a challenge. And I’m nothing if not a petty girl wholovesa good challenge.
When Kasey reaches for his keys on the counter, I tell him it’s a good night for walking, pointing to the boots on my feet as assurance that I can handle the trek. The truth is a walk along the pasture sounds divine, and it gives me plenty of opportunity to have a little fun with my handsome new groom.
I’ve had these jeans long enough to know they’rejustat that level of worn to be forgiving of some of my new curves, since it’s not just my stomach that’s been rounding out. I walk with the swagger of a jungle cat, swinging my hips side to side as we make our way toward the main house. Kasey stays quiet behind me,but I feel the weight of his attention like a caress against the back of my neck.
“What are you doing?” he asks gruffly when we’re a little over halfway there.
I turn and bat my eyes through a mask of innocence. “What do you mean?”
