“That’s really sweet.” And actually quite profound. No man had ever told Laurel he wanted her to be the mother of his child before. Not even close. Not even close to close. “You’re a refreshingly simple man.”
He laughed, a tiny little closed-lip mm of a sound.
“What?”
“I’m not that simple.”
“I beg to differ.”
Flynn shook his head. “If any man ever did to you for real the shit I pretend to, I would literally murder him. You think I know what to even make of that?”
“But you know it’s different. Different in every way.”
“Doesn’t mean I don’t doubt it now and then. Doubt who the fuck I even am, wonder exactly how thin a scrap of conscience separates me and the sickest fuckers walkin’ this earth.”
Now Laurel shook her head, smiling. “Don’t doubt yourself for a second. I don’t.”
“God knows what I did to deserve you.”
“Plenty.”
He opened his mouth. Shut it. He regarded her for a long moment, then got to his feet with a grunt. “Hang on a minute. Need somethin’ from my car.”
“Okay.”
That lie about having a headache was absolutely true now, Laurel noted, her brain feeling pickled. She headed to the bathroom, washed her face and brushed her teeth and changed her pad, feeling tender more in her heart than her sex. Back in her bedroom, she propped the reheated hot water bottle against a pillow and sat with her lower back pressed to it, hugging her knees.
Flynn returned with his jacket slung over his arm. “You lied to me earlier, having Heather tell me you had a migraine.”
“I know. I’m—”
“I lied to you too.” He sat at the edge of her bed, his hip touching her toes.
“You did?”
He looked down at his jacket, now folded in his lap. “Don’t think I’ve ever lied to you before. Can’t think why I would have.”
Indeed. A man as blunt and unapologetic as Flynn had no reason to. Her curiosity was thoroughly piqued, stomach just a little queasy. “What was the lie?”
“I didn’t work today. There was no overtime shift.”
“Oh. Okay.”
“I had an errand to run.” He unfolded his jacket and slipped his hand inside a pocket. When he slid it out, he was holding a small, polished wood box, opening it before Laurel’s imagination got a chance to jump to wild conclusions. Even if it had, it could never have predicted the ring she was suddenly staring at.
“I know I bought this after I found out you were pregnant—”
“Oh my God.”
“—but what’s happened doesn’t change how I feel, or what I want. Thinkin’ we were gonna go through whatever we were together, raising a kid, or goin’ through whatever the fuck sort of head-trip an abortion must be… It just felt obvious. It just felt right, like, this woman’s got the power to change my life in massive, mind-blowing ways, and I knew no matter what you decided, I only wanted to be next to you. So I’m hopin’ you’ll say you wanna be next to me, for whatever’s gonna come next.”
“Jesus, Flynn.” Her head was swimming. What she really wanted was to touch the ring, to see it up close, but she didn’t dare. It didn’t feel right. It didn’t feel wrong, either, just… Not yet. Just not now.
When she didn’t reach for it, he turned the little box around and regarded it a moment. “Do you think it’s pretty?”
“I think it’s gorgeous.”
“Anne told me you would.”
She had to laugh, floored to think there’d been such a conspiracy afoot. “You lied about your whereabouts so you could sneak off with another woman behind my back? While I slaved away, icing cookies for your niece’s—”
“You want to try it on?”
“I— No. Not yet.”
A pause. “Is that a no, no?”
“It’s not a no. It’s a… I’m not sure. It’s a… It’s an ask-me-again, when I’m not hurting so bad. Ask me when I can wrap my head around it.”
“Ten days, you said?”
She smiled. “In a month, or six months. I know you’re not doing this out of pity, or to try to cheer me up or distract me, but… Shit, I feel like I’m messing this up. But ask me again later.” Her heart was too banged up right now to muster the giddy flutterings such a moment deserved.
“Did I completely wreck this?” he asked.
“No. Not at all. You’re amazing. Pretend I’m as blunt and transparent as you, Flynn, and just take me at my word on this one. Ask me again when things have gotten back to normal and it feels like the right time to you.”
He snapped the box shut and tucked it in his jacket with a little smirk. “When my mind’s made up, it’s made up, so it can only feel right.”
She smirked back. “Very smooth. I wish I had an answer now, trust me. But what happened today… I spend a lot of time trying not to feel things. To hide or to get numb or ignore my issues. But this… I think I need to feel this, what I’m going through now. All of it. This isn’t the sort of pain I want to pack up and stuff down and ignore and have to deal with later. I just want to feel the ugly fuck out of it until I’m okay again. Get it all over with.”
He nodded.
“When I’m done doing that, your question deserves my full attention. My full, sober, rational attention.”
“I hear you.”