Chapter Thirty-Four
Paige
On Tuesday morning, I woke up before Michael and had a chance to watch him as he slept in my bed. It was a novel feeling: I didn't remember ever having a guy there, the morning after, in my bed. Usually, I went to their place. Even if I did have a guy come over, he was just there for a quick fuck, and then he left. They never spent the night in my bed.
I glanced towards the sheet separators and realized that Erica must be about five feet away, in her own bed. I blushed and looked at my phone to see what time it was. My eyes widened when I saw that it was after noon: Michael must be late for work. I nudged his shoulder, and he blearily opened his eyes. His face broke into a sweet smile when he saw me.
“Hey,” I whispered, remembering again that Erica would be able to hear us. Maybe moving into his place wasn't such a bad idea, not if it meant that we could avoid awkward mornings after like this.
Then again, that was an argument against moving into his place, wasn't it? I didn't want to avoid mornings after like this. There were meant to be mornings after like this.
I was going to have to talk to Erica about all of it.
Michael stretched and reached for me, pulling my body towards him. I shook my head, and he quickly released me, looking disappointed and hurt but quickly covering up that expression with a neutral one.
“It's already almost one in the afternoon,” I told him. “Don't you have work?”
Michael's eyes widened. “Shit, my alarm must not have gone off,” he muttered. But he made no move to disentangle himself from me or the sheets.
I frowned. “Well?” I asked.
He snorted and lightly kissed me. “I own the company,” he reminded me. “What are they going to do, fire me?”
I didn't know what to say in response to that. Part of me argued that wasn't a very good work ethic. Part of me wanted to say something about how he'd better raise our son or daughter to be better than that.
But I knew that wasn't what I wanted to say exactly. The only reason I thought that was because I didn't know how else to react. I didn't know how to get him out of my bed if he wasn't going to hurry off to work. We lingered there for a long moment, just staring at one another.
Michael nuzzled my neck for a moment. “Why don't I make us some coffee?” he suggested.
I thought again about how Erica could probably hear us. But then again, if I couldn't hear her breathing or moving around over on her side of the room, I had to conclude that she wasn't there. “All right,” I finally agreed.
Michael gave me one last, chaste kiss and then slid out of bed, pulling on his boxer briefs and then padding out into the kitchen. I heard the coffee grinder start and thought about getting out of bed as well, but I was comfortable there. Besides, it was either chat here in my bed or out on the sofa. Either way, the talk was going to be uncomfortable.
I grabbed a t-shirt off the floor and pulled it on over my head, figuring that I could at least be less naked for the conversation that was coming.
Eventually, Michael returned, bearing two mugs of coffee. I reached for one and then froze as the scent of strong coffee reached my nose. I all but bolted for the bathroom, barely making it before the bile rose in my throat. I heaved over the toilet for a few moments, glad that I had pulled my hair back into a ponytail after pulling on the t-shirt.
Finally, I managed to take a couple calming breaths and went back into the main room. Michael was sitting on the couch, and the coffee mugs were nowhere to be seen. “Are you all right?” he asked, standing immediately.
“Morning sickness,” I sighed. “It's probably for the best: aren't I not supposed to be drinking coffee during pregnancy anyway?”
Michael frowned and came over to me, gently brushing back some of my hair, where it had escaped its ponytail. “Can I get you anything?” he asked.
I shook my head. “No, thanks,” I told him. “I'm okay.” I wasn't really, but I knew from the past few days that there was nothing to do but wait it out. I couldn't deny how pleasantly warm I felt at his concern. I knew there was still more for us to talk about after the previous night, but I couldn't help thinking again about what a good man he was.
“I've got to get to work,” Michael sighed, but he continued to linger there in the apartment.
“Go ahead,” I told him. “I'm probably just going to put on a movie and watch that until I have to go to The Shift tonight.” Surprisingly enough, I felt like I would, in fact, be able to work tonight. The previous night must have helped me more than I had realized.
Michael lightly stroked my cheek and then bent in to kiss me. It was soft and sweet, and even though it showed just as much passion as the previous night's kisses, there was a surprising amount of tenderness to it as well.
“I love you,” he said quietly. “I'll talk to you soon.”
I stood there, rooted to the floor, as he took a step back, preparing to leave the apartment.
Did he just say I love you?
I could barely echo his words, even in my thoughts. Unbidden, my fingers crept up to trace over my lips, tracing the parts that had been touched by his kiss. It sent a zing through me, but it wasn't only lust this time. Instead, it was something deeper, something I didn't wholly understand.
I couldn't say anything back to him as I trailed after him to the door, still trying to figure out what to say. The problem was, I didn't know what I felt, and his bold statement of his own feelings just left me feeling more adrift.
Of course, he probably didn't mean it that way. He wasn't trying to be romantic, saying that he loved me. He was just… He was just what? I didn't have an answer. I felt lost, adrift, uncertain. I thought again about how he had asked me to move in with him. He had told me he didn't want a normal relationship, that he didn't mean for us to be something more. He just wanted to get me out of this place I shared with Erica, that was all. He wanted to make sure I was being taken care of.
But I couldn't help but believe him when he said he loved me.
I swallowed hard, and even though I still hadn't managed to say anything in response to Michael, even though he had turned, after exiting the apartment, to look searchingly at me, all I could do was shut the door in his face. I leaned against that door, trying to sort through my feelings, but they seemed to be sifting through my fingers.
I had to talk to Erica, I realized.
With single-minded focus, I headed to The Shift, intent on talking to my best friend. If anyone was going to make sense of this, it was her. She was the romantic, after all. She was the one who knew me best.
“Michael stayed over last night, in case you didn't know,” I blurted as soon as I saw her.
Erica froze and then frowned at me. “I've been staying with my new boyfriend,” she admitted. “I thought you had realized that.”
I hadn't realized that, and suddenly, I felt like a horrible friend. I hadn't even known that she had a new boyfriend. “Sorry,” I sighed. “I've been so wrapped up in what's going on in my life lately that I haven't even stopped to think about what's been happening in yours.”
“That's okay,” Erica said. “I didn't mean it that way. What's up?”
I paused, but the words came rushing out before I could stop them. “He told me he loves me,” I admitted. “And he asked me to move in with him. He doesn't want this to be a normal relationship; both of us know that wouldn't work out. But he has a spare room, and he really wants me to have my own space. He wants his maid to take care of me, too.”
I shook my head. “I know that it all comes back to the baby. He said he loves me because he loves the baby. He wants to take care of me because he wants to take care of the baby. But still. This isn't what I thought I was signing up for.”
Erica frowned at me, and I could practically see the gears turning in her head. “Are you sure that's all it is?” she finally asked quietly.
I had to consider, for a moment, that wasn't all it was. What if Michael did love me? What if he was concerned about me, but for more than just his concern for his baby growing inside of me?
“Do you love him?” Erica asked softly before I could deny anything.
“Of course not!” I said automatically. But deep down, I knew that I did. How could I not, after all?
I swallowed hard, wishing that I could tell her the truth. Wishing that I could ask her what to do. But it was up to me, wasn't it? I sighed and rubbed at my temples, and Erica gave me a knowing look. Fortunately, all she said was, “I want you to take it easy tonight, okay?”
All I could do was nod in response.