“Ah,” she moans, letting her head fall forward on my shoulder.
Moving slowly inside of her, I milk her orgasm, drawing out the most pleasure for my girl. Her heartbeat thumps against me, eventually slowing and evening out right alongside mine.
I want to hold her in my arms forever, feel our naked bodies touch in every way. Damn, I’ve missed this. More than I even realized.
“I hate to do this,” I say, my voice shaking, “but I have to put you down.”
My arms feel like they’re full of lactic acid as I ease Elin to the floor. She doesn’t say anything, and when she’s on her feet, she doesn’t look at me.
Instead, she scurries to the end of the hallway and finds her t-shirt, my t-shirt, and slips it over her head.
“I thought you hated that shirt,” I joke, attempting to put some levity into the air that’s suddenly full of awkwardness. Pulling my jeans up and searching for my shirt, I can’t pry my eyes away from her.
“I do.”
“So why are you sleeping in it?”
She runs a hand through her tangled hair and looks at me. “I’m not sure. It was just the first one in the dresser.”
I know that’s a lie. She hides that shirt from me all the time because it’s so ratty. But I let her go with it.
Nodding, I get myself back together and feel the strange build between us. I hate it and scramble to find a way to fill the hallway with something else.
“What have you been up to?”
As soon as the question is out of my mouth, her brows shoot to the ceiling. “Really?”
“Yeah, really,” I say, confused. “Why do you act like it’s an odd question?”
She huffs and leans against the wall. “I was thinking you’d go now.”
“Elin, I—”
“Please. Go.”
“We need to talk,” I say.
“Not really.”
“Yes, we do. Let me explain . . .” My heart kicks up in my chest because I don’t know what I’m going to say, but I have to. And I will. I’m ready. I’m ready to get my life back. Our life back.
She pulls at the hem of her shirt. “Not tonight.”
“Will you be okay?” I ask, not wanting to leave. My hands itch to pick her up and carry her down the hallway to our bedroom. I want to pull her on top of me and show her how sorry I am, how much I love her, over and over again until she understands.
“I’m always okay.”
The bite to her words hits me full-on, and I must flinch because she reacts to it, seconds from offering her apology.
“If you need anything, you’ll call me, right?”
“I’ll call Jiggs,” she whispers.
Pressing a kiss against the top of her head, I let it linger for a few seconds longer than necessary. Hoping it tells her all the things I can’t say, I pull back. “Call me,” I insist and leave, making sure to lock the squeaky door behind me.
ELIN
“Your regular?”
My eyes adjust to the light in The Fountain as the door closes behind me. I search for Ruby, the owner for the last fifty years, and find her at the sink.
“Please,” I smile, standing at the counter next to Lindsay. Fishing out two dollars from the bottom of my purse, I lay them beside the napkin dispenser for a large Bump.
“What are you doing here?” Lindsay asks, sipping on a strawberry milkshake.
“It’s sixty-degrees outside,” I say, pointing at her glass. “Why are you drinking a milkshake?”
“I told her I won’t tell a soul,” Ruby says, sitting my Styrofoam cup in front of me. She leans on the counter with a knowing look.
“Tell who what?” I ask.
She leans closer, her eyes sparkling. “That’s she’s pregnant.”
“Hush,” Lindsay giggles, looking around the deserted building. “I don’t want anyone to know. Not until I’m out of the first trimester.” She looks at me and then away just as quickly.
I hate this. Lindsay should be asking me to throw a baby shower, having me help pick out names. Instead, she’s not discussing it with me and I’m not bringing it up and it’s just wrong on every level.
It has to stop.
I gulp.
It’s going to stop.
Ruby picks up on the awkwardness and clears her throat, backing away. “I understand. And like I told you earlier, no matter how much you try, I won’t serve you caffeine. It’ll be milkshakes for a while. Or juice. But the acid won’t do you any favors.” She goes back to the sink and Lindsay looks at me out of the corner of her eye.
“How are you feeling?” I ask her.
“Good.”
“When are we going shopping and buying all the things?”
A wide, genuine smile splits her cheeks. “I want to. Now,” she giggles. “I just don’t want to make you feel awkward in any way.”
“Stop worrying about me! You are having a baby,” I grin. “I am so ridiculously happy for you, and I want in on everything. And I mean everything. The only weirdness is you avoiding me.”
She blinks back tears and laughs at herself. “I’m so hormonal. Jiggs is afraid to say anything because I just start crying. Poor guy,” she says, wiping her eyes with a napkin.