Bring Me Back(92)

He picks one up and takes a big bite before setting it back on the plate. Icing is smeared all over his perfect mouth.

I don’t think, I just act on instinct. I lean over and cover his lips with mine, kissing away the icing. He stiffens at first, shocked, and then his hands are on my face, angling my head back so he can kiss me deeper. It doesn’t feel wrong and I don’t want him to stop. My fingers wrap around his shirt and my lips move against his, licking away the traces of cinnamon and icing. I realize with a sudden clarity that this man is what I want. I can’t deny it anymore.

His tongue brushes mine and his mouth swallows my moan. My hands grasp at his shoulders, trying to hold on because I’m pretty sure I’m about to fly away.

When the kiss breaks, I lean my forehead against his solid chest, breathing in and out heavily as I try to catch my breath.

“I wasn’t expecting that,” Ryder admits, his fingers tangling in my hair.

I tip my head back to look up at him. “I wasn’t planning on it.” I laugh. He looks wounded so I quickly add, “But I’m glad I did.”

He smiles and lights up my whole world. I know, in that moment, that I’m in love with him. I think I have been for a long time and I kept denying it to myself because I felt it was too soon, that it was wrong to love someone else. But love…love is never wrong. If there’s anything that’s right in the world, it’s love.

He kisses me again, only a quick peck, before he grabs the cinnamon roll and takes another bite.

“It’s starting to look like a real nursery in here,” I tell him. “It’s all thanks to you.”

He chuckles. “I’m glad I could help.” He pauses. “I notice you taped the paper over there with Ava on it.”

I bite my lip. “That’s her name.”

“Whoa, I guessed right?” he asks, taking another bite of cinnamon roll.

I shake my head. “No, I suppose you kind of named her.” I shrug. “I hadn’t picked a name out yet—I had it narrowed down to a few—but when I saw that one and you said that it meant bird I knew it was the right name.”

His eyes sparkle with happiness and he finishes off the cinnamon roll. He jumps up and goes to the kitchen to wash his hands and get a drink before returning.

He goes back to work on the crib while I eat my own cinnamon roll.

I rub my stomach with my free hand and take a deep breath. The baby is sitting low and the pressure is intense. I breathe out.

“Are you okay?” Ryder asks, noticing the pinched look to my face.

“I’m fine. She’s just really low and it hurts,” I explain, taking another deep breath.

Ryder finishes with the crib and slides it over to where I told him it would go, beneath the paper crane mobile. The crib I bought has an antique look and it’s cream colored. The bedding I got is a soft pink and cream combo that matches the walls.

I look around the whole room. The antique armoire takes up almost the whole wall beside the door. There’s the dresser on the other with cabinets above for more storage. The crib is against the other wall with a glider and the changing table while the wood floor is covered in a thick white rug. The stroller sits folded up in the corner with the car seat. The room is completely ready; it only needs the baby.

Ryder reaches down to help me up and I’m thankful for it. My large stomach makes getting up and down a major chore.

“What do you think?” he asks.

“I think it’s perfect.”

He smiles down at me, his hand on my waist. I’m not sure he even realizes it’s still there.

“Ryder—” I begin but a sharp hiss of pain slips through my teeth.

“Blaire?” Concern leaks into his tone. My fingernails dig into his arm and I bend over. “Are you in labor?”

“I don’t know!” I cry. “I’ve never had a baby before!” He looks like he wants to laugh at me but knows better. “I can’t be in labor,” I say. “It’s three weeks until my due date. My parents aren’t here. I—”

“Blaire.” He puts his hands on my shoulders. “I’m here, okay? You’re going to be fine, but I think we need to go to the hospital. Where’s your bag?”

“My room.” I point even though he knows where it is. “It’s on the floor of the closet.” The pain begins to ease away and I waddle toward the door to wait for Ryder. “The car seat,” I tell him when he comes out of my room.

“Oh, right.” He dashes back into the nursery.

My heart pangs. All of this is so normal, but it should be Ben here. I don’t feel bereft at that fact anymore. I’m just thankful Ryder can be here.

I grab my car keys while he gets the car seat. I’m not thrilled at the idea of walking down three flights of stairs—and I’m mildly terrified that the baby might fall out of my vagina—but I know I have to do it.

Ryder comes out of the nursery holding the carrier with my duffel bag slung crossways over his body. He looks like he’s ready to go into battle.

“I’m sorry you’re getting dragged into this,” I say, hissing through the pain as another—what I assume is—contraction hits me. “You can just drop me off at the hospital. I can call Casey so I’m not alone.”

He looks at me like I’ve grown three heads as he locks up the apartment for me. “I’m not leaving you,” he declares. “If you don’t want me in the delivery room, that’s fine, but I’m not leaving you. I’ll sit in the waiting room all day if I have to.”