Lizzie Blake's Best Mistake (A Brush with Love, #2)(70)

Lizzie nodded, but her face must have still looked serious based on the panicked way Rake continued to stare. She cleared her throat. “I think … I can’t be sure, but maybe the baby is kicking?”

The tension in Rake’s face dissolved into heart-melting tenderness, his mouth going soft and slack as his eyes traveled down her body to rest on her stomach.

“Really?” he asked, his voice hoarse. “What … what does it feel like?”

“Like a tiny little flutter,” Lizzie said. “I can’t be sure. It stopped, it was only a moment. It could be gas for all I know, but—” She paused, the tiny popping feeling returning. A smile spread across her cheeks, threatening to crack her open. “It’s happening again. Touch me. Touch me!” She grabbed his hand, placing it right above her pelvis. Rake was still, save for a tiny tremble Lizzie felt in his fingers.

After a moment, he spoke. “I don’t … I’m so sorry, but I don’t really feel anything.” He looked pained, as if it was the most important thing in the world for him to feel the baby kicking and he was a failure for the barely perceptible vibration not reaching his hand.

“Don’t be sorry,” Lizzie said, reaching out to cup his jaw. She dragged her thumb over the stubble along his chin. “You’ll feel it. We still have a while. I promise you’ll feel it before the little one gets here.”

His face cracked, so many emotions flitting across its beautiful surface, before two small tears welled up in the corners of his eyes. He blinked, trying to pull away. Lizzie sat up, gripping his face in both her hands.

“Hey,” she said, tilting his head so she could meet his eyes, “what’s wrong?”

He shook his head between her palms, a sad smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “Nothing’s wrong.”

“Liar,” Lizzie said, giving him a tiny rattle. “Talk to me.”

He blew out a deep breath that traveled over Lizzie’s skin like a cool breeze. “There really isn’t anything wrong,” he said at last, meeting her eyes. “It’s the exact opposite. I’m just so damn happy to be a part of this. So happy you’re letting me.”

Lizzie’s brow furrowed. “Letting you? I’m not … It’s not about letting you do anything. I’m … I’m glad you’re here with me.”

“But you don’t—I mean, you didn’t…” He let out another deep breath. “You didn’t have to do this, or tell me, or any of that. But you are. We are. Together. And it…”

Two more tears rolled down his cheeks, and he extracted himself from her grip, dragging his own hands across his face.

There was that thing again. That feeling. That tiny inkling that poked at Lizzie’s heart, whispering that he’d been hurt. Was hurting. Pretending he wasn’t. She decided, if there was ever a moment to push, this was it.

“Rake?” He looked at her. “Why did you want to be a part of this? Why … What made you uproot your life for this? Jump into it like you have?”

He swallowed, staring at her like a wary animal torn between bolting and submitting.

“You don’t have to tell me,” Lizzie rushed out. “You really don’t. But I … if we’re going to do this parenting thing together, I want to know as much of you as I can.”

Something about that seemed to push his decision.

“Do you remember when I told you, while we were moving, that I’d lost someone?”

“Yes,” Lizzie said. The sadness in his tone when he’d said it sometimes played on a loop in her mind like a tragic melody. “Did someone you love die?”

Rake shook his head. “I didn’t lose them in that way—poor choice of words—but it was one of those things where everything changed and crashed and burned so quickly, it almost felt like it.”

Lizzie cocked her head to the side, giving him a confused look.

After a deep breath, he started again. “I had a girlfriend. Shannon. We dated for a little over two years, and I was going to propose.”

Lizzie nodded, her breath seeming to get locked in her throat.

“She was everything I’d always assumed I’d need in a partner. Beautiful, smart, good job, nice family…”

“She sounds great,” Lizzie said, her voice scratchy.

Rake shrugged. “She was—is—in many ways. But she was never particularly affectionate, but I’m not either, so I tended to ignore it.”

“I think you’re affectionate,” Lizzie piped up. He was.

It was in the small things he did. The way he always asked her about her day, how she was feeling. Let her force-feed him endless baking experiments. How he endured her teasing and poking, letting her under that serious facade and rewarding her with his smile.

Rake gave her hand a quick squeeze. “I did love her, though. I had bought a ring. But the last month or so of our relationship, she’d been acting more distant than usual. It was odd. We never fought. Not once. It was always as cordial as talking to a work acquaintance. And that never bothered me until that last month, when we drifted further apart. It was like I could touch her, but she wasn’t there. I was searching for some sign that she even cared I was around.”

Rake was quiet for a moment, staring out at the city.