It's Only Love(14)

No other man had a chance against the possibility of Gavin. How many times had she ended fledgling relationships with the words It’s not you, it’s me? And Gavin, she should’ve added, because he was always smack in the middle of her relationships even if he never met the guys she dated.

In the parking lot, Gavin loaded the bags into the back of his truck, which they’d retrieved from the biker bar, while Ella went around to the passenger side and got in. She watched him stow the cart in the corral before he got into the truck. For the longest time he sat there, looking straight ahead.

Ella was on the verge of saying something—she wasn’t sure what—when he turned to her.

“Tell me what I did wrong in there.”

She’d been unprepared for such a blunt question. “You . . . I . . .” Jesus, Ella. Get it together. “Nothing.”

His eyes flashed with the starting of what might be anger. “Don’t do that. Don’t say it’s nothing when it’s clearly something. I told you I’d give this my all, Ella. You’ve got to do the same. You gotta meet me halfway.”

He was right. She couldn’t even try to deny that he was absolutely right. But how was she supposed to broach this particular subject on day one of the relationship she’d dreamed about having with him?

Reaching for her hand, he curled his fingers around hers. “Talk to me. I want to understand. I want to fix whatever I did.”

“You didn’t do anything. You struck a nerve that you didn’t know was there.”

“The kid thing is a nerve?”

She was on the verge of saying sort of or kind of, but that wasn’t the truth. It wasn’t what he deserved from her. “Yes.”

“How come?”

In for a penny . . . “I used to think,” she said with a sigh of resignation, “that I’d have a lot of kids, the way my mom and my aunt Hannah did.”

To his credit, he didn’t blanch or recoil or jump out of the truck in horror. Rather, he calmly said, “A lot, huh? Like ten?”

“Aunt Hannah only has eight.”

“Not much difference between eight and ten.”

“Most people only have two kids. They’d tell you that’s a lot.”

“Do you know that in all the years since Caleb died, neither of my parents has ever reminded me that I’m their only hope for grandchildren?”

“Oh,” she said, caught off guard by the change in direction. “That’s nice of them.”

“My mom would be an awesome grandmother, don’t you think?”

“They’d both be terrific, and you know Hannah’s children will consider them grandparents.”

“I do know that, and so do they. However, the continuation of the Guthrie name? It’s all on me.”

“That’s a lot of pressure.”

“They’ve never pressured me, but I’m aware of it. I don’t want the Guthrie line to end with me.”

“That’s not a good enough reason to have kids.”

“I know it isn’t, and until recently, I’ve been too unsettled to even think about having a family. But now . . . Now, it doesn’t seem so far off in the distant future.”

“Now . . . What does that mean?”

“Now that there’s an us and the possibility that you could be their mother—”

“Gavin, please. I have to stop you right there. It’s way too soon for us to be having this conversation, and frankly, my fragile heart can’t take it. I just can’t allow myself to go there. Not yet.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to poke at a nerve or your fragile heart.”

“You didn’t do anything wrong, and I’m glad to know you aren’t totally opposed to having kids someday, but I can’t talk about that someday today.”

“Fair enough.” He started the truck and drove them back toward her place in town, where they’d dropped off her car on the way to the store.

They were quiet on the short ride, and Ella wished she could know what he was thinking. Her thoughts were all over the place, scattered and unorganized. He was saying—and doing—everything she could possibly want him to, but she was still wary. She wanted so badly to believe everything was possible for them, but until last night he’d not given her any reason to have one ounce of faith where he was concerned.

Hearing he could picture her as the mother of his children made her want to say to hell with caution and get busy making babies. More dangerous thoughts . . . She’d reined him in, but she needed to do the same to herself. Jumping ahead to someday wasn’t wise when today required all her focus and attention.

Gavin followed her up the stairs to her apartment, each of them carrying grocery bags. This would be the first time he saw her home, and the thought of that made her oddly nervous.

She was so rattled she nearly dropped her keys. The door swung open and the scent of the sage candle she’d burned last night greeted them.

“Smells good in here,” he said as he followed her into the kitchen in the back of the small apartment.

“My favorite sage candle.” She loved being able to share even the simplest of things with him, such as her favorite scent and where she kept her cereal. Ella loved stashing his Cake Batter ice cream next to her Cherry Garcia. She loved knowing his favorite kind, and that he loved cookies, ham and white bread, as gross as that was.