Page 49 of His Best Friend's Baby

“Suit yourself,” she said and followed him into the kitchen.

“I heard you were hurt and I wanted to make sure you were okay,” Julia said, resting against the doorframe.

“I’m okay,” he lied, because it was second nature. He pulled out some ham and cheese and looked for the bread he figured should be around here somewhere. He was shaken, off-kilter, not just from the fight, not just from the dream last night or her presence here this morning. He was wrecked by how badly he wanted her here, how badly he wanted to talk to her and touch her.

He picked up a knife and she stepped forward.

“Let me make you a sandwich.” She pointed at the knife held in his shaking fingers. “You’ll kill yourself the rate you’re going.”

He put the knife down on the counter next to the loaf of bread that had apparently been there all along.

He stepped out of the way and dropped into a kitchen chair. If she was making the sandwich, she wouldn’t be touching him.

“So what happened last night?” she asked, peeling thin slices of pink ham from the package.

“Ran into a door.”

She looked over at him with raised eyebrows. “Big door.”

“Three big doors.”

She smiled and put two pieces of cheese on the meat—just the way he liked it. “Why’d you do it?”

Because you touched me. Because you won’t leave me alone. Because it hurts so bad.

“Seemed like a good idea at the time.” He took the sandwich she offered, but instead of stopping there, she opened his fridge and took out an apple and the rotting grapes he hadn’t touched since Mac dumped the groceries on him. He watched her rinse them, weed out the soft and brown ones, slice up the apple, remove the core.

He wanted to block it out, wanted to cover his ears to stop the sound of Ben singing to himself in the other room.

“You need to eat,” she said as a plate clattered in front of him. “You don’t look like you’ve had a good meal in months.”

He nodded, took a big bite of the sandwich.

“I want to clear something up,” she said and the tone of her voice made his eyes dart to hers. Her shoulders were back, her small breasts pressed against her T-shirt in such a way that he had to concentrate on peeling the cheese from the top of his mouth or fall on his knees begging for her touch.

“That morning in Germany—” she inhaled through her nose like a bull about to charge “—that was you. You touched me. You came to me. I never once asked for it, or gave you the impression that it was okay for you to do that.”

Oh, sweet Jesus. What he wouldn’t give to be anywhere in the world but at this table. He chewed carefully and swallowed. She was mad, and he’d never seen this woman in a temper. It made his wounded head spin.

She was pretty when she was angry.

“I know,” he muttered.

He’d sat on that couch watching her with her son and he’d battled every impulse he’d had to grab her and take her away from Mitch, the tiny house and the sad life she’d been living.

In the end he’d found a nasty compromise. He’d told her she deserved better. Should have kept his mouth shut.

“But you did it.” She put her hands on her hips. “And I don’t think you understand what you did to me that morning.”

“I know, I understand.”

“No, you don’t.” His one good eye opened wide at the tone of her voice. “You don’t know what it was like thinking that I deserved Mitch. That…” She swallowed hard. “The things he did were my just rewards for being young and stupid and getting pregnant.”

He knew all too well what it was like to be caught in Mitch’s web. To believe you weren’t good enough to be stuck anywhere else. It was Mitch’s personal form of abuse. And it was effective.

“I’m twenty-four and I love my baby. I am grateful to Mitch for that. But you waltzed into that kitchen and you ruined my life. You tore down all my lies and my illusions and you made me think that…maybe I did deserve more.”

“You did,” he said. “You do.”

“Then what the hell is wrong with you?” she shrieked and Jesse winced. “God, it feels…” She clenched her hands in her short hair. “You’re here. I’m here. And I want you. It seems like I’ve wanted you forever. And you push me away but you look at me like you’re starving and I’m a ham sandwich. I’m not such a fool that I don’t understand that.”

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