“It really was thoughtful. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. Sorry it made you puke.”
I shrug. “A lot of things make me nauseous, might as well add that to the list.”
And then I move past him and back to the bed. He goes to the bathroom and finishes getting ready. By the time he’s plugged his phone into the charger, I feel the heaviness in my eyes.
He scoots under the covers and faces me. His body heat warms the bed, something I’ve actually missed.
“You’re tired,” he says.
I nod. “The sleep is taking over me. Are you still pumped up with adrenaline?”
“Had a mild spike with that whole throwing-up situation, but I’ve calmed down. You sure you’re good with me sleeping here?”
I nod and yawn at the same time. “It’s nice. You make the bed all toasty and warm. Missed it while you were gone . . . and well not really talking to me.”
“Hey,” he says softly. “You were the one not talking to me.”
“I think we both weren’t talking.” I snuggle into my pillow. “But we’re talking now.”
“We are.” And then he reaches out and pushes a loose strand of my hair around my ear.
My eyes part just in time to connect with his. His finger drags across my cheek tenderly, and he says, “Good night, Penny.”
Almost breathlessly, I answer back, “Good night.”
And then he closes his eyes, leaving me with an elevated feeling as my pulse picks up.
What was with that touch? Did he mean to do that? Was it a loving touch or a pity touch because I threw up?
No. We’re here for the baby. Plain and simple.
Nothing else. My pregnancy brain needs to take a time-out and go to bed.
Everything will be just fine in the morning.
“Hey,” Eli says, poking his head in the bathroom where I’m carefully straightening my hair. Day off means I get to spend time doing something I wouldn’t normally do in the morning when I have to go to work.
“Hey, I didn’t think you’d be home so early from your morning skate.”
“We’re trying to rest our legs more.” He nods at me. “What are you doing?”
“Straightening my hair.” I give him a once-over. “Why are you wearing jeans?”
He chuckles. “What should I be wearing?”
“I don’t know, sweatpants? That’s what you normally wear. Are you going to go run some errands? Do professional hockey players even do errands? Pacey never talks about it, so I can’t be sure. Do you have an assistant who does everything for you?”
“I run my own errands. But that’s not why I’m wearing jeans.”
I glance down at them again and then nod in understanding. “Ah, a new pair, wearing them in around the house.”
He presses his hand to his forehead. “Why are you like this?”
“Like what?”
“Why do you assume I’m doing everything other than what I actually want to do?”
“I don’t know.” I shrug while combing one of the final sections of my hair to straighten. “I ramble and talk a lot. You should know that by now.”
“I do.” He lets out a heavy sigh. “I’m wearing jeans because I was hoping I could take you to lunch.”
I pause and turn toward him, hair in the straightener. “You want to take me to lunch?”
“Unless you have other plans.”
“I don’t. But why do you want to take me to lunch? Do you need to tell me something, and breaking the news over a soup and salad combo seems like the better thing to do? If so, please don’t take me out in public to break the news to me. You know how emotional I am right now.”
He places his hands on his hips as his head falls forward. “I just want to spend some time with you as a friend. That’s all. There’s nothing behind the request, just wanting to take a friend out to lunch.”
“Oh.” I chuckle and then face the mirror again. “Well, if that’s all, you should have just led with that instead of creating all of this nonsense.”
“You were the one creating nonsense. I didn’t even have a chance to get a word in.”
“Well, lesson learned for you.” I finish up and then set the straightener down and turn to him. “Ready. Where are we going?”
“That would be up to you, the puker.”
“Hey.” I hold my finger up to him. “Don’t call me that. It’s not my fault this spawn you inserted inside me is making me sick.”