Page 26 of Unwilling Vow (Mafia Marriages 4)

11

Olivia

Jace orders us Italian for dinner, and I pull dishes from the cabinet when the food arrives.

“Have you thought about what you’re going to do after the baby is born?” Jace asks.

I’m not sure what he means. I’ll be giving up the baby. There isn’t much to think about.

He must see the frown on my face.

“What do you want to do for a career?” Jace asks.

“Oh, I’m not sure,” I say. I sit at the table and nurse my water. I wish it were a tall glass of wine.

“Dream job?” He opens the lids on each of the dishes and then serves me along with himself.

“I used to paint.”

“You’re an artist,” Jace says and smiles. “I can see that.”

“Starving artist?” I laugh and reach for my water, taking a sip.

He’s kind enough not to comment. “Do you have any of your artwork around?” Jace glances around the apartment.

The walls are mostly bare. Not that I’ve had time to put any of my artwork up, even if I had it handy.

“Uh, no.” I shove a forkful of pasta into my mouth, so I don’t have to elaborate.

I’m not sure whether he notices or not, but his gaze is on me for far too long.

“I’d love to see some of your art. Is it for sale?” Jace asks.

“Most of it was destroyed in a fire,” I say.

He nods like he’s putting the pieces together. Why I was living in my car. Again, he’s polite enough not to keep forcing the issue. “I don’t know anyone at the local art gallery, but I can make a few phone calls only if you want my help. I don’t want to overstep,” he says.

He’s sweet, a little too helpful. And while I appreciate his kindness, I also can’t accept it.

“No, that’s all right. I’m sure I’d just disappoint them when I end up pregnant in a few months and leave my job.”

Jace takes another bite of pasta.

The room is quiet. Too quiet.

You can hear a pin drop.

I should have turned the television on for background noise. Anything to avoid the awkwardness. Why am I so bad at relationships? Is it because of what happened?

Was I always this much of a mess?

“Why would you quit?” Jace asks.

“Oh, I just assumed that you’d want me off my feet and at home. You said I’d be living with you after I’m pregnant.”

“I’m sure you’ll want to take time off when you get closer to your delivery date, but there’s no reason that you can’t work as long as you and the baby are healthy. Unless you just don’t want to work?”

Is he judging me?

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