Always With You - Part Two(7)

I wake to sunlight streaming through the window and Cash curled up to my left. I smile as I roll onto my side and stare over at his gorgeous face. It's more boyish in sleep, but no less arresting. He's positively breathtaking, in sleep and otherwise. But when those eyes are open and watching me … my poor heart doesn't stand a chance. And neither do my panties. They never did.

When he got home last night, I was still awake. I didn't mention coming by the club. I didn't want to let Sophie interfere with one more second of my life than what was necessary. So when Cash took off his clothes and climbed into bed, I reached for him. And he reached right back, making the kind of slow, sweet love to me that always leaves me ridiculously sappy and joyful the next day. He doesn't have to say a word to tell me how much he loves me. He shows me with every kiss, every touch, every smooth movement of his body against mine. And it leaves its mark. For days afterward, it leaves its mark.

When he pulled me, sated, onto his chest some time later, he told me that he'd gotten to spend some time with Isabella. "I want to start getting to know her. Just in case," he'd said. I nodded against him and he kissed the top of my head, letting the bothersome conversation drop. Today, I'm determined to keep things in perspective and keep my emotions in check.

I ease out from beneath the covers and set about getting ready, resolved to tackle the Sophie stuff first thing. I want to take back control as quickly and definitively as I can, so when my hair is dry and my face is made up, I kiss Cash without waking him, make sure my father is settled and I head to my cousin and Cash's brother's place.

I realize when I knock and don't get an answer right away that I probably should've called. When they're in town and not on their boat, they probably have lots of plans and it was terribly inconsiderate of me not to bear that in mind and show some respect. I guess this Sophie/Isabella thing has totally polluted my brain.

Finally, just as I'm turning to walk back to my car and leave, Nash opens the door. He looks distinctly uncomfortable.

"Olivia. What's up?" he asks, pulling the door up behind where he stands in the opening and shoving one hand in the front pocket of his jeans.

"Oh, hi. I hope I'm not interrupting. I just wanted to stop by and talk to Marissa for a few minutes. Get her opinion on something. I should've called first, though. I'm sorry."

"Oh, no. It's fine. She's, uh … she can't, um … "

I feel a blush coming on. "I am interrupting. God, I'm so sorry, Nash! I don't know what's wrong with me!"

Actually I do.

"Don't apologize. It's not that. She's just … "

As if to punctuate the sentence he continues to stumble over, I hear awful retching from behind Nash.

"Oh my God, Nash! Is that Marissa? Is she okay?"

Sophie and Isabella are temporarily forgotten in my concern for my cousin.

He pulls the door up closer to his back, an obvious attempt to dull the sounds coming from inside. I frown.

"Nash, what's going on?"

"Marissa isn't feeling well. She, uh, she might've eaten something that didn't set well."

"Then for God's sake, take her to the emergency room. If she has food poisoning, she-"



       
         
       
        

He blocks me as I try to push around him. My frown deepens when I see the look of panic on his face.

"No! She'll be fine. Seriously. She just needs a couple of hours to get it out of her system and she'll be fine."

I hear more retching and Nash pales visibly. I narrow my eyes on his face. "What's going on, Nash? Maybe try the truth this time." There's no way Nash would risk Marissa's health by not taking her to the doctor if there was even the hint of something wrong with her.

Unless he knows this will pass.

And what is making her sick.

For just a couple of hours.

In the morning.

No! It couldn't be!

Surely I would know. Surely they would tell me if … if …

I feel my face pale to match his.

"Nash, is Marissa pregnant?"

His eyes take on a look of sad resignation, but he says nothing.

That's when I understand what's been going on. "Marissa is pregnant and you've been hiding it from me because I can't get pregnant. Is that it?"

I feel hurt and silly and pathetic. I hate that my family kept this from me, but I hate more that they felt they needed to.

His silence is all the answer I need.

"Oh. Oh God." I clutch my roiling stomach and turn a circle, not knowing what to do with myself. But then reason kicks in and I know exactly what to do. I take three deep, calming breaths, plaster as genuine a smile as I can on my face and muster as much happiness as I'm able. "Congratulations, Nash. I'm so happy for you both."