Chapter Ten
Harrison
Did I want to talk about why I left? No, not really. But that didn’t mean I shouldn’t.
“Lucas.” His name flowing off my lips felt so right, even if what I had to talk about felt so wrong. “When I woke up, you were lying there sleeping, looking all disheveled and sexy. There was nothing I wanted to do more than pull you to me and snuggle until the morning.”
And more, but we were so very much not going there. I pretended to be looking for something tea related, which was ridiculous since I was pretty much one of those guys who put everything it’s its right place at all times, more to avoid confusion than anything else.
Too many things had happened all at once, every single one of them unexpected, and I wasn’t even sure how to process it all, much less while having a life-altering conversation.
“Then why didn’t you?” He offered me his arm as I stumbled, trying to grab the honey. I was usually better on my feet, but between the pregnancy and trying to not notice his scent, I had been far less graceful than normal.
It felt good to touch him, even if it was for safety reasons.
I let go once I righted myself instead of stepping into his arms the way I wanted to.
“Because then what?” I sighed. It wasn’t as if I had known about the baby then. If I had—well then, I’d have done things hella differently. “The awkward morning goodbye? It wasn’t like we could’ve been more than that one night, even if it was a pretty good night.”
Best. Night. Ever.
“I’d rate it as better than pretty good.” He leaned in as he spoke, sending shivers down my spine before taking a seat with a smirk on his face—a sexy smirk at that.
“Yeah.” My voice cracked. “That.” The kettle was starting to sound like it was close to ready, and I fiddled with it as if that would somehow make the water boil faster. I was usually more confident than this, especially in my own home, but all of that flew out the window with those two little pink lines.
“So, out I snuck. Back home to my life here, making things, being me. The me you saw, the one who got all hot and bothered by some hot guy he saw at a flea market, hot and bothered enough to get naked with him? That isn’t me. I am more boring than you can imagine.”
Lucas stared at me as if I spoke Greek. If he only knew how true my statement was. Except for Henry’s kid, I was alone more often than not. And I didn’t hate it that way. At least I didn’t think I did, until I met Lucas. Maybe it was all hormones.
“You travel a lot. I live for my roots. This is my home. Not only this cabin, but this town. This is where I belong, and I knew from that first moment, when you sounded all sexy telling me I dropped the stupid box, that we could never be more than that one night.”
The kettle whistled and I shut the burner off before filling two cups.
“Except we are.” Lucas got up, inching closer, watching me intently as if I might bolt. “We are going to be parents. Were you going to tell me?”
“Like I knew where to find you.” His face reddened. I was doing this all wrong. “I never planned to keep it from you intentionally, but I didn’t even know your last name.”
“You really have no clue who I am, do you?” He looked indignant.
“You’re Lucas?”
He pulled out his phone and typed away before handing it to me.
“Here.”
I took it to see it open to YouTube and some cooking thing.
“Why are you showing me a cooking—oh.” And that was when I saw Lucas on the screen. The sound was muted, but from what I could gather, he was making some kind of roast, and the production value looked much better than most home videos. “So, you are on what, like PBS or something?”
“Not quite.” He indicated with his hands for me to guess again.
“The Cooking Central Channel?”
“Yes and no. I’m on multiple networks for different shows.”
“This thing the town is going on about, that’s all you?” How had that not clicked into place before. Although it wasn’t as if he flaunted his acting or was it even acting—demonstrations? He never once mentioned it to me on our date.
“It is.”
“So, most people see you and know who you are.” My stomach fell.
“That’s why I was hiding in the back at the craft fair,” he confessed.
This was not good.
“And they will be like that here?”
So very much not good.
“Most likely.” He shrugged, not even looking as if he grasped the problem.
“And I’m pregnant.” My voice rose, something I tried to keep it from doing, but he just wasn’t hearing me. He was famous, and I was pregnant. That could only lead to badness.
“You are.”
“My life cannot be a TMZ headline.” There was no way I could allow that. Not for me. Not for my business. And most definitely not for my baby.
“It won’t.” His gaze didn’t even hold mine as he spoke. No. He wasn’t believing his own words on that one.
“It will, given you are famous and I’m having your love child.” I spelled it out for him, no longer holding any calm.
“Do people say that anymore?” He took a step forward, and I took two to the door.
“I did.” I held my voice firm. “I think you need to go.”
It was all too much. I just couldn’t handle it. I needed time and space.
“But we need to talk.”
“I need to figure this out.”
“Can I put my number in your phone? Will you leave it this time?”
I nodded, pulling out my phone and handing it to him. He was still my baby’s father, so no matter what other decisions were made, he deserved to be part of the baby’s life. How we made all of that work while protecting the baby was an entirely different matter.
“I will. But I need to figure things out. Especially with the entire town abuzz. You understand. Please say you understand.” I sounded desperate. Shit. I was desperate.
“I don’t, not fully, but I accept your need for space even if it doesn’t make me happy.”
“Fair enough.”
It didn’t make me happy, either.