Proving Paul's Promise(29)

“Congratulations,” Paul says to them both.

Emily winces when Kit’s sounds become more like a siren. “Okay, now she’s loud,” she says with a laugh. Logan passes Kit to Emily, and she looks up at the lactation consultant like she’s not sure what to do.

Paul ushers Em’s parents out the door, and we follow.

He heaves a sigh and looks down at his watch. “Don’t we have a doctor’s appointment today?” he asks.

I stop and think. “Oh shit,” I say. The sun is up, and it’s Monday. And I have an appointment at ten in the morning.

I reach for my purse to pull my phone out, but I realize I left it in the hospital room.

“I’ll be right back,” I say, and I sprint back up to Emily’s room. I knock softly and wait for someone to call out that I can come in. Emily has the baby in her arms and her shoulder is bare. Logan tosses a lightweight blanket over her really quickly.

“It’s just me,” I say. “Sorry, but I forgot my purse.”

I dash over and grab it. But at the door, I have to stop and take one last look. Emily is sitting up in bed staring down at their daughter. Logan has his arm wrapped around them both, and he’s holding them close, talking softly to Emily. She turns and kisses his cheek. He smiles at her, and there’s so much love there that it makes me ache inside.

They’re all wrapped up in one another, so I leave the room much more quietly than I arrived.

But outside the door I stop and think about the way they looked together. Their family is perfect. Is it safe for me to want that, too? Or is perfect something I’ll just never have?

Paul looks so damn handsome leaning against the pole outside the hospital that I have to stop and stare at him. He laughs down at his phone. God, that man makes my heart go pitter-patter when he smiles. And when he frowns. And when he does nothing. But mostly, when he smiles, he takes my breath away.

“What’s funny?” I ask as I walk up to him.

He holds up his phone and shows me the picture of Emily and Kit that Logan must have just taken. First full tummy, it says under it.

“Next he’ll send one that says first full diaper,” Paul says with a chuckle. He hops up onto the curb and walks down it like it’s a tightrope, his arms outstretched. He can be so serious and still such a kid at the same time. I guess he should still be young at heart. He’s only in his mid to late twenties, although he’s been carrying the burden of his entire family his whole adult life. I like this side of him.

I shove him off the curb, and he jumps to the ground. He takes my hand.

“You always this happy in the morning?” I ask.

He points to his chest. “Who, me?” he asks. “I am Mr. Sunshine all the time.”

I laugh out loud. “Tell that to someone who doesn’t know you.”

He looks down at his phone and then throws his head back and laughs. “See,” he says. “Told you.”

I see the picture of Kit’s first diaper change and roll my eyes. “I think it’s sweet,” I say quietly.

He sobers a little and looks closely at me. Too closely for comfort, so I cross my arms and speed toward the subway.

“You know you’re pregnant, right?” he asks my back.

I stop. “I won’t know until later,” I say. I turn to face him.

He brushes my hair back from my forehead. “You’ve woken up sick the past two days,” he says. “You’re pregnant.”

“I won’t know until later,” I say again, and I start for the subway again.

“And if you are?” he calls after me.

I shrug. “Then I am.”

“And?” he shouts.

“And what?” I turn around and glare at him.

“And how do you feel about that?” he asks.

I shrug again. “Fine. It’s not like I didn’t plan for it.” I make my eyes go wide and stare at him.

He holds up his hands like he’s surrendering. “Just checking,” he says.

“It’s not like it’s mine,” I remind him.

“So that means what?”

“It means it’s not mine,” I say again. “This baby is going to have two wonderful daddies, and just because it’s growing inside me does not make it mine.” Hell, even the one that does share my DNA isn’t mine. I close my eyes.

“I think you’ll like being pregnant this time,” he says. He takes my hand and pulls me into the subway. He wraps his arms around me like before and talks close to my ear. It’s all intimate, even though there’s a crowd of people around us. “After this one,” he whispers, “do you think you might like your own?”

“No.” I don’t even need to think about it.

His brow furrows. “Why not?”

“I’m not mother material.”

“Fuck that,” he says.

“Fuck you,” I say back.

He grins. “I wish you would,” he whispers, and then he kisses me quickly.

I shove his shoulder. “Shut up.”

He lifts my arms and wraps them around his neck, and then he kisses me. He kisses me in the middle of a crowded subway car with people all around us—again—but I feel like we’re the only two people in the world.