The Forever Girl (Wildstone, #6)(84)

Her eyes narrowed. “You said you loved me.”

He nodded, watching her carefully. “Scared?”

“No,” she said. Hesitated. “Maybe.”

He tugged playfully on a stray strand of her gorgeous, wild hair, currently the same fiery color as the sky. “Truth is, Maze, I’ve always loved you.”

She didn’t so much as blink. “Me too,” she finally whispered.

He snorted and pressed his forehead to hers.

“I do!”

Her fervor spoke more of her feelings than words ever could, and equal parts affection and thrill went through him.

“I feel it, you know,” she said earnestly. “I just . . . don’t like to say it.”

Since he knew why, he wasn’t about to push the issue and dredge up any bad memories for her. “I know. And I get it, Maze.” He smiled. “You’re better at show than tell.”

Her own smile was sweet and filled with relief, and she slid her fingers into his hair. Tightening her grip, she directed his mouth to hers. “Let me do a little show-not-tell right here,” she murmured, straddling him to do just that.

“You were worried about broad daylight.”

“Yes, but it’s not all the way light yet . . . we’ve got a few minutes.”

He smiled and tightened his grip on her. “Good thing I do some of my best work under pressure.”

CAITLIN SLIPPED QUIETLY out of bed and into the shower, but not before taking aspirin and cursing last night’s alcohol for her pounding head. In the steaming water, she closed her eyes and let the hot water work its magic. But no amount of hot water could push back her problems and worries. They were simply becoming too big for her to manage with a smile and a few deep breaths. So she went with the facts.

One, she wasn’t pregnant.

Two, she wanted to be.

Three, she no longer believed Dillon was on board for that.

On the bathroom counter, her phone was having a seizure. Sara, of course, with more work problems. “It’s a deli,” she said to the phone. “Not life or death.” Which led her to fact number four: she wanted to leave her job and work for herself, but again, not sure Dillon was on board for that either.

And then there was the biggest fact of all. Number five: she now believed that she’d rushed into this wedding—a disaster of her own making. As someone who’d prided herself her entire life on always making smart decisions, she was horrified. And at that realization, her knees gave in to the nerves and she sat on the floor of the bathtub, letting the water pummel her.

“Caitlin,” Dillon said quietly.

Her head snapped up and she stared at him.

He lifted his hands, signaling that he wasn’t here for a fight. “You okay?”

“I just need a few minutes.” Or another year . . .

“I understand.” Reaching in past her, he turned off the water. Then he gently wrapped her up in a towel, picked her up, and brought her back to bed.

The dogs were in it, of course, but he did the unthinkable. He shooed them off and set her on the bed, therefore putting her ahead of his “babies.”

“But you don’t like it when the covers get wet,” she said inanely.

“I don’t like it when my future wife is sad.” He tipped her face up to meet his. “Can you talk to me?”

She drew a deep breath. She’d tried everything else, so why not? “I’m, um . . . six days late.”

“For making the last payment on the rental equipment?” he asked. “Yeah, I know. They called me and I took care of it.”

“No.” She shook her head. “I mean, thank you. I’d forgotten. But that’s not the kind of late I was talking about.”

He blinked. “Oh.”

“Yeah.”

He drew in a deep breath. “Are you . . . ?”

“No. I took a test.”

He sagged with clear relief and smiled. “Okay.”

She did not smile, and his slowly faded.

“You were hoping otherwise.”

She nodded, and he grimaced and shoved his fingers into his hair.

“Aw, Caitlin. I’m so sorry.”

Her eyes filled, but she swallowed hard. “Are you?”

“Yes.” He pulled her to him. “Babe, you know I love you, right?”

“And I love you,” she said. “I do. But, Dillon, this is a big problem for me, and it should be for you too. It turns out we want two very different things. How can we do this? How can we get married tomorrow?”

He took her hands and looked her in the eyes. “Look, I’m sorry I didn’t jump right onto the baby train. And it’s not like I don’t want them ever, I just don’t want them right now. This isn’t something that has to derail us.”

“But what if you never get on the baby train?”

Their gazes held for a long beat and then he let out a weighty sigh. “Can’t we deal with that when the time comes?”

Yes. They could. They absolutely could. But . . . did she want to? Did she love him enough that in the end, if he decided it was never the time to have kids, that it would be okay? That she’d be okay?

He took in her expression and shook his head. “Caitlin,” he said softly, squeezing her hands. “You’re scaring me.”