Well Suited (Red Lipstick Coalition #4)(32)

Maybe it was only the baby. He’d made this food not to make me happy, but to provide sustenance for his child. He’d fed me folic acid for fetal brain development, not to impress me.

But then I thought back to that night, that first night. And the remembrance of the connection we’d made long before a baby was in the picture had me turned around again.

And that was the most difficult thing of all to parse—logic and reason did not apply here. And without those two systems to count on, I was hobbled.

I took another bite of my salad, unable to redirect my thoughts. And for a moment, we ate in silence but for the music playing from an unseen source. And Theo didn’t press. He just ate, occasionally catching my eye or smiling at me. The lack of conversation was companionable, comfortable, terribly natural. And I took the moment to collect myself.

We were halfway through our main course when my blood sugar had normalized along with my heart rate and emotions. For the moment at least. I drew upon my reserves of collectiveness and set down my fork.

He looked up, saw my expression, and sobered, setting down his fork too. “You okay, Kate?”

“I’m much better than okay, Theodore.” My hands, which were damp, clutched my napkin in my lap. “I’m nervous and unsure, but you have taken care of me in ways I couldn’t have known you would and for reasons I can’t quite understand.”

“Well, I like taking care of people. Especially you.”

I sighed. “When you say things like that, I don’t know what to do.”

His eyes cast down, and he nodded guiltily. “I’m sorry. I know you asked me not to come on to you, but it’s not intentional. It’s just honest. I tend to say how I feel, when I feel it.”

“I do, too,” I said. “And that’s what makes it so disarming—your honesty. I asked you to help me last week. Because I’m unable to untangle my feelings and look at things objectively. Especially when it comes to you.”

Flint struck behind his eyes, sparking a flame of hope that reached nothing but his irises.

“It’s become abundantly clear that the chemistry and compatibility between us isn’t something we can avoid. And so, I’d like to propose we discuss alternatives.”

“And what kind of alternatives do you have in mind?”

“I’m not exactly sure, which is why I’d like to discuss them. As decided, I would like to defer to you.”

Silence, noisy with his unspoken thoughts. “All right,” he said quietly. “Let’s start with more information. How exactly do you feel about me?”

I considered the question. There were too many answers. “I don’t know where to begin.”

“With the good. For my ego.”

With a long pause and a healthy helping of discomfort, I took a breath and let loose. “I don’t know how it’s possible that you continually do everything right. You do exactly what I would do but with more…panache. You have respected my wishes. You’ve done everything I asked. You’ve stayed away, and I’m starting to hate it.”

He stilled.

“I don’t understand my feelings, and I don’t understand why I can’t keep them in check. I don’t know why I want you to touch me or kiss me. I don’t understand how you make me want things I’ve decided I didn’t want. I don’t like feeling like I can’t control myself, and it’s why I avoided you in the first place. And I should have known I couldn’t fight biology, but when coupled with your behavior, I can’t imagine how I’m supposed to stop it. I don’t think I want you to stay away anymore, Theo.”

For a moment, he said nothing. His face, which I scanned for answers, was locked down but for those smoldering eyes of his.

“Okay. Now tell me the bad.”

I took a shaky breath. “I’m not prepared to enter into a relationship. I don’t know how, and things between us are too complicated. There’s no way to determine what’s a real connection and what is circumstantial. Or hormone-fueled.”

“What are you afraid will happen?” he asked quietly.

“I’m afraid I’ll hurt you. Or that I’ll get hurt. That we’ll ruin our positive relationship by confusing things. Because I’m growing more and more convinced that we’ll need each other. And can we successfully raise our child together if we part ways damaging each other? If things end badly because we made poor choices or weren’t as compatible as we’d thought, is it possible to remain amicable for the sake of our child? If we live together and are together and separate, how can we still be peaceful and productive?” I shook my head, tried to soothe the ache in my chest with a breath. “Like I said—it’s just too complicated.”

When he didn’t say anything, I kept explaining, overcome by nerves regarding his reaction once he did speak.

“I can’t sort it out on my own. I need your input. I trust you. Because I know you want what’s best for us and our embryo.”

“Baby.”

My head tilted. “Baby?”

“Baby. It has arms and fingers and toes now.”

“See?” I said with an exasperated wave of my hand in his direction. “It’s things like this. You remembered what I said weeks ago about the baby not being a baby until it had arms and legs. You remember everything. You are thoughtful and giving. Every word, every detail has meaning. The dinner you made for me. The care you give. It attracts me beyond strictly chemicals.”