But I did know. It was one thing not telling Grace and Gran who the father was. It was another outright lying to them. There were so many ways that Grace got under my skin, but she’d always been truthful with me. As for Gran, I doubted she’d ever told a lie in her whole life. It was something I knew I could count on with them, and I didn’t want to break that circle of trust.
“I just don’t think I can look them in the face and lie.”
That seemed to be enough for Patrick. “Right, then. We’ll tell everyone except your mom and gran. Sound good?”
I sagged. He had no idea how good.
“Oh, and Nev, about last night…”
The baby, or maybe something else inside me—lower down—did a somersault. “Yeah?”
“I’m hoping we can have a repeat tonight.”
Twenty-four hours later, everyone—with the exception of my mother and grandmother—thought Patrick was the father of my baby. As Patrick said, everyone accepted it without question, amused that we’d finally revealed our relationship “after all this time.” Marion was a little miffed that she hadn’t been the one to expose the secret, but once she recovered, even she seemed pleased. Patrick accepted the pats on the back and congratulations like a proud father to be, and I smiled as the nurses tried to conceal their horror that Patrick had been snapped up. That part was fun.
As we’d told everyone we were a couple, I didn’t see any way around the new sleeping arrangements at my apartment. Eloise would have thought it was strange if he’d slept on the couch. So that night, when Patrick showed up after his shift, after a brief chat with Eloise and Ted, who were snuggling on the couch, we’d both wandered stiffly to my bedroom. I used the bathroom first, and as I waited for Patrick to finish his shower, I peeled back the sheet to examine my sleepwear for the tenth time. A tank top and shorts. A negligee, even if I’d owned one, would’ve looked ridiculous on a woman who was seven months pregnant, but it felt a little presumptuous to wear nothing at all. I sat up. Maybe my good underwear and bra set would be better? It was pink and girly and … No. Not me at all. I lay back down.
The next time I sat up, the light was off and I could tell some hours had passed. Opposite me in bed, Patrick smiled. “Hey, there, sleepyhead.”
I blinked awake. “Whoa. How long have you been staring at me?”
“I wasn’t staring until you suddenly shot upright. I’m a light sleeper. Unlike you.”
I yawned. “Sorry. I must have dozed off while you were in the shower.”
“Pregnant women need sleep.”
“True.” I frowned. “You know, I’m not used to having men in my bed watching me sleep.”
“You’re not used to having men in your bed at all. I should know. Unless you’ve been sneaking them out the window—which, as a doctor, I would say is a dangerous move—on the third floor.”
“So that’s why none of them called.”
I expected Patrick to laugh, but he didn’t. “Is that what happened to him, then? The guy?”
“Yeah,” I said. “That must be it.”
“You’re really not going to tell me who he is?”
I shook my head.
“Does he know?”
“No.”
Patrick propped himself onto an elbow. “If it were my baby … I’d want to know.”
“Trust me. This guy doesn’t want to know.”
“So he’s definitely out of the picture, then?” For once, Patrick looked unsure of himself. It made my insides hurt. “He’s not going to swoop in later, demanding back his fatherly rights?”
“No.” My voice was confident. “Definitely not.”
Finally, that megawatt smile. “Well, good. Then his loss is my gain.”
The gleam in Patrick’s eye was unmistakable. It made me nervous. He was in my bed. He’d have expectations. I wasn’t nervous about sex … exactly … but sex with Patrick? It was thrilling and terrifying in equal parts. Thrilling because, well … he was Patrick. He looked the way he looked, and he was definitely very experienced. Terrifying because I was heavily pregnant and most likely not up to the job. But I was happy to try.
I reached for him under the blanket and found his naked waist, warm, flexing under my hands. Slowly, I edged toward him, sliding into his space. The baby sat between us. I leaned in, over it, and pressed my mouth to his.
“Nev.”
I pulled back, my body a crescent moon mirror image of his. “Yeah.”
“I know this is a bit unorthodox, me being in your bed like this. But I don’t have any expectations. Fantasies, but not expectations.”
“Fantasies?” I flickered my eyes to the bowling ball between us. “Even with this?”
He half smiled. “Even with that.”
My head began to swirl.
“But not tonight,” he said. “Tonight I thought we could just … talk.”
“Talk?”
He nodded.