Home > Books > Those Three Little Words (The Vancouver Agitators, #2)(178)

Those Three Little Words (The Vancouver Agitators, #2)(178)

Author:Meghan Quinn

“Penny . . .”

“Eli . . .”

“Fine.” I turn away from her and start painting the wall in one big stroke of gray. “Don’t tell me. That’s fine. Don’t tell me anything. We’ll just remain two people in love who don’t tell each other everything. That is just fine.”

“Wow, Eli, trying to throw down the guilt trip?”

“Nope, just letting you know how it is.”

I continue to paint while I feel her watch me, watch my every stroke, my every move until she says, “If this room is painted, then it’s all real.”

I pause the roller and turn toward her. “What do you mean, it’s real?”

“I mean . . . this is the last thing we need to do, and I don’t know if I’m ready, Eli. I don’t know if I can handle this. Giving birth . . . being a mom. It’s all too scary.”

“Baby.” I set down the roller and squat in front of her. I grip her shoulders and say, “You’re the strongest woman I know, and there is no doubt in my mind that you’re not only ready for this but you’re also going to be the best mom out there. You have so much love to give, so much heart, so much patience. You’re more prepared than you know, and I can’t wait to see you hold our little guy, to watch the bond you have with him grow every day. This is real, it’s so fucking real, and you’re going to excel.”

“You really believe that?”

“I know it, babe. I fucking know it.”

She smiles shyly. “Would it be appropriate to lay you down and make love to you because of your sweet comments?”

I chuckle. “After I’m done painting, my body is yours, but I’m getting this done first.”

I step off the elevator and make my way toward the apartment after a very difficult practice. The new season’s started. Coach is punishing us, warning us that we better not have the fallout we had last season. We won’t. We’re looking strong.

After Penny’s fall down the stairs, Pacey basically told Winnie that he was a wreck without her and begged her to come back. She did. That same week, they went up to Banff, to the cabin, and Pacey proposed with some help from the boys.

Taters, well, he met someone. Someone way different than Sarah. She’s reserved, so goddamn smart, and a breath of fresh air.

Posey, God, he’s in a world of mental anguish, but lucky for us, he’s learned how to deal with that torment while playing at the same time. All I have to say is . . . don’t fall in love with a legend’s daughter. It’s high expectations to live up to.

And Holmes, last I heard, nothing has changed with Blakely. She’s still dating that Perry dude, and Holmes is still crushing.

A few steps away from the apartment door, I notice a very potent smell of pumpkin. Is that . . . is that coming from our apartment?

Can’t be, right?

Penny is currently on maternity leave and has been an absolute mess. Every day I come home, it’s something new. There was the day she was sobbing on the couch while watching reruns of Family Feud. She said someone guessed cucumber as the most popular vegetable, and she couldn’t fathom how an eggplant might feel from being left out. I sat there and consoled her the best I could.

Then there was the time she was in our bedroom, folding every article of clothing in the apartment. EVERY article. Including underwear, which she normally thinks is such a waste of time. And when I asked her what she was doing, she said she was on her fourth round of folding it all. Fourth fucking round. She said they weren’t folding right, and she wasn’t going to be done until it was all folded correctly.

And then there was the time I found her on the bathroom floor, holding her naked breasts and asking God why they were leaking.

She also made some more art for me. She sat in paint and then sat on a canvas and gave it to me. It was just a blob of paint. She cried for an hour about it. Found out, she’d been on the phone with her mom, which made her sad because she missed her mom. And because her mom likes painting, she decided she’d paint for me. Needless to say, I rang Tina and asked her to console her daughter and promise an urgent visit.

So as I approach the apartment door and the smell of pumpkin grows, I worry about what I’ll find on the other side. I’ve been gone for a few hours, so I can only imagine what she’s managed in that time.

I unlock the door and slowly open it. “Babe?” I call out just as I step into the apartment.

“Over here,” she calls from the kitchen.

I glance over there but don’t see her. The smell of pumpkin is so strong, I worry she’s purchased a few and torn them open in a frenzy to find the perfect seed—wouldn’t put it past her.