Capturing Peace (Sharing You 0.5)(30)

“Parker . . .”

Coen raised an eyebrow at me and looked toward the door for a second. “I didn’t hear anything.”

“No, I just . . . I didn’t think about this.”

Understanding washed over his face. “About him waking up, and me being here . . . in the same clothes?”

I nodded and bit down on the inside of my cheek. “But I doubt he’d notice your clothes. If he had it his way, he’d wear the same thing every day of the year.”

Coen smiled and walked closer to me. Holding out his hand, he waited until I put my hand in his before pulling me toward him. “Don’t take this the wrong way, Reagan, but I think it’s way too early for him to find me here in the morning. Too soon for him, too soon for our relationship . . .”

“Good!” I blew out a relieved breath and moved so I was pressed against his chest. “I think it is too. I’m happy you stayed last night, and if you ever want to, I want you to stay again. But I don’t think Parker should know that yet.”

His dark eyes showed just how glad he was that we were both on the same page with this. “So, should I leave through the window or . . .” he teased, and kissed me quickly when I laughed and pushed against his chest.

“We’ll just have to be quiet,” I whispered, and winked at him as I led him from my bedroom and through the hallway. When we got to my front door, I looked up into his dark eyes and was already wishing for another night with him. “Thank you for staying.”

That look was back. Like I’d just given him the most amazing gift. I didn’t understand it. But if I got kisses like the one he gave me just then every time he looked at me like that, then I’d want to get that look all the time. “Thank you,” he said softly when the kiss ended. “Have a good day, Reagan.”

“You too.” I watched him walk out to his car, and as soon as he was in it, shut the door and tried to school my expression before waking up Parker.

Walking into his room, I smiled when I found him starfished on his stomach, his temporary tattoo on display.

“Wake up, honey,” I crooned softly as I rubbed his back. “Parker, wake up.”

He rolled his head to the side and looked up at me sleepily.

“Morning.”

“Hi, Mom.” He did a weird little wave before gasping and sitting up on his knees and looking around.

“What’s wrong?”

“Where’s Coen?”

My body froze. Had he heard us? Oh God. My stomach filled with dread at that thought. “He’s at his house, baby.”

When Parker looked at me again, he was disappointed. “Oh.”

I licked my lips quickly and had to look away for a second as I tried to compose myself. “Why did you think he’d be here?”

Parker shrugged and looked down at his lap as he mumbled something.

“Don’t mumble.”

“He’s gonna come back, right?”

I smiled at my son, and was so glad he liked Coen just as much as I did. “Of course he is.”

Parker’s face lit up and he bounced up and down. “Is he gonna be my dad?!”

“What?” I managed to choke out.

It felt like all the air had left my body. I wasn’t sure I remembered how to even pull more into my body. Breathe, Reagan, breathe. How do I breathe?!

“Why would you ask that?” I tried to keep the horror from my tone, but I knew I hadn’t succeeded. Parker didn’t seem to notice either way. He still looked beyond excited.

“Because Jason has a dad, and he said everyone has a dad. But I don’t. Uncle Keegan’s my uncle. And Grandpa is my grandpa. And I like Coen. So can Coen be my dad, Mom?”

“Um . . .” Is twenty-two too early to start having hot flashes? “Parker—”

“I’m going to ask him if I can start calling him ‘Dad’ next time I see him!”

Parker jumped off his bed and began running around the room as he tore off the shirt he’d slept in, and threw it on the bed.

“Parker, baby, I need you to understand something.” I waited for him to stop running around and look at me until I spoke again. “Coen can’t just start being your dad, do you understand?”

His forehead scrunched together like he was trying really hard to.

I wasn’t about to explain adoption to him, so I skipped to something easier. “If Coen and Mommy got married, then Coen would be your dad.”

Parker laughed. “Okay, Mom! You can marry him, because he’s going to be my dad!” He held up an imaginary light saber—sounds and all—and started using it as he ran out of his room. “Can we have waffles?” he yelled from down the hall.

“Oh God,” I groaned, and dropped my face into my hands.

I thought back to Coen’s words and my blood ran cold. “Don’t take this the wrong way, Reagan, but I think it’s way too early for him to find me here in the morning. Too soon for him, too soon for our relationship . . .”

Of course all this was too soon. Too soon. Too soon. And if Parker told Coen that he wanted Coen to be his dad . . . this was too soon for me!

Oh Jesus. I jumped up from Parker’s bed and ran to the guest bathroom as my body mercilessly tried to throw up anything. Dry heaves continued to torment my body for minutes until my stomach calmed, and I sat back to find Parker standing there looking scared.