Home > Books > Those Three Little Words (The Vancouver Agitators, #2)(169)

Those Three Little Words (The Vancouver Agitators, #2)(169)

Author:Meghan Quinn

“Why would she plant something in a shoe? Oh hey . . . maybe she’s nesting.”

“I don’t think that’s what nesting is. That’s when she puts together the baby’s room, right?”

“I think it’s everything around the house. Oh shit, go check the baby’s room, see if anything changed in there. I’m kind of hoping she made bedding out of your suits.”

“Why would you hope that?”

“Because it’s fun for me.”

I head toward the baby’s room, just as my eyes focus on the throw pillows. “Wait, all the throw pillows are missing their covers.”

“Ooo, that seems almost psychotic.”

“Maybe she spilled something on them.”

“That’s logical, but it’s Penny we’re talking about here. I think logic is out the window.”

I hate to admit it, but I think he’s right.

Ignoring the pillows, I go to the baby’s room and stop dead in my tracks when I see words splattered across the walls in gray paint—shocked that it’s not red with the way it’s scrolled out.

I swallow hard and then say into the phone, “Posey, man, I think I’m in way over my head.”

“What did she do?”

“You don’t want to fucking know.”

The front door opens, and Penny steps inside, holding a bag in one hand and her phone in the other. She takes her shoes off and sets them in the closet, and then moves toward the master bedroom without saying a word.

I’m standing in the kitchen, holding my phone charger and trying to figure out why she put it in the fridge, when I set it down and follow her.

She drops the bag on the floor and then slips under the covers of our bed and rests her head on the pillow before letting out a deep sigh. Her eyes close, and I contemplate what to do.

Should I let her be?

Should I cuddle up behind her?

Should I talk to her?

When I see how peaceful she is, I know exactly what my next move will be. I pull my shirt off, and fold it, setting it on the dresser before getting in the bed behind her. She makes more room for me, and I situate the blanket over both of us before slipping my arm around her stomach. She scoots into my front and then rests her hand on mine.

“I’m sorry,” I whisper into her ear.

Quietly, sadly, she says, “I know, Eli.”

“It was stupid, and I should never, ever question how you feel about me. That’s not fair to you.”

She sighs but doesn’t say anything, so I take that as she just wants to sleep. Not wanting to let go of her, I stay with her tucked into my chest, and as I rest here with her, I realize that nothing is better than this.

Not a night out with the guys.

Not a last-second score to win the game.

Not even a fucking championship.

Nothing beats being with Penny. Absolutely nothing.

And then . . . I hear her sniff.

I still.

When I hear it again, I gently squeeze her and ask, “Babe, is everything okay?”

She shakes her head. “No.”

“Hey,” I say softly. I try to tug her to face me, but she doesn’t move. She stays put. “Penny, what’s going on?”

When she answers, all I can detect is the pain in her voice, and it nearly destroys me. “I just want to be your girlfriend, Eli. I just want to be loved.”

Oh . . .

Her wants seem so simple.

Yet to me, they feel monumental. Impossible.

Commitment has never been easy because that means I’m allowing myself to own something . . . someone in my life. Someone I could lose.

Mentally, I don’t believe I’m stable enough for that. To allow Penny that close because if I lose her, it will destroy me.

But haven’t you already let her in?

“And I know you don’t want that,” she adds, her voice so full of sorrow that it physically pains me. “But I don’t know how to change how I feel. So . . . there you go. I love you, Eli, and I’ll probably love you forever.”

She sighs heavily and then cuddles in closer, not saying another word. She drifts off into a deep slumber, one she doesn’t wake up from until the next morning. Not me, though. I lie awake the entire night, playing her words over and over in my head, trying to muster up the confidence, the ability to feel the same way.

“Hey,” Penny says quietly as I walk through the door and set my gym bag down on the entryway floor.

She’s sitting on the couch, wearing a pair of leggings, heels, and a maternity blouse that looks really fucking good on her. She curled her hair, leaving it in long waves, tumbling down her shoulders, and she’s wearing makeup. It’s very natural, nothing too bold, just accentuating her beautiful features.