Knocked Up(43)

She slicked on some lip gloss and mascara and then ran a brush through her hair but no matter what she did, she felt like an alien inside her own body. She was just getting so round now. With a sigh, she tugged the neckline of the shirt down a bit to show off a hint of cleavage, which she wasn’t sure looked better or looked desperate.

Blowing a piece of hair out of her face, she briefly considered trying a different shirt, or maybe another pair of pants, but before she got the chance to riffle through her closet, she caught sight of Luke’s truck pulling up to the curb.

“Crap.” She grabbed her bag and hustled out the door, only stopping to lock it behind her before she hoisted herself into the passenger’s seat.

Clicking the door closed, she glanced at Luke, but he was staring at her with a strange, almost concerned expression twisting his handsome face.

“What?” she asked. “Do I look fat? Of course I look fat, but I mean, should I go—”

“No, no. Of course not.” He shook his head and shifted a little in his seat.

“Was I supposed to dress fancier?” She surveyed his outfit, a blue sweater and jeans that clung to his perfect, non-changing body. “I can go change—”

“Tawny, relax. You look great.” He offered her a smile, and even though every muscle in her body screamed to head back into the house and change, she buckled herself in.

She didn’t really look great. Her lips were puffy. Her fingers were swollen and she looked like she’d eaten a whole Christmas ham in one gulp. But he had to say otherwise. That was just the kind of guy he was. She was realizing that more and more every day.

While they might not have slept together in the past eight weeks, no one could accuse Luke of not being attentive. He’d brought her groceries, and taken her to the doctor and helped her through every worry and concern. He’d been great. Amazing. Perfect, really. Which only made the lack of intimate contact harder to bear. Every time he rubbed her belly or grinned that sexy grin her way, she wanted to jump his bones.

Sure, they’d had dinner dates. She’d even fallen asleep in his lap one night watching movies. But as far as him looking at her as a sexual being? That had seemed like it was a million years ago.

“Thanks. You, um, you look good too.” Her cheeks burned, and she swallowed hard.

“Thanks.” He shot her another smile, and then started the car. The radio filled the silence stretching between them, but then, as they drew closer to the house, he spoke again.

“I’m not sure what your family parties were like with your folks, but…my mom isn’t exactly the entertaining type. Like, she hasn’t hosted a lot of fancy parties or anything.”

He didn’t look at her, but she could see the slight crease of his eyebrows as he spoke.

“I don’t think my parents ever threw a party growing up. Moving from base to base, we never really got to know anyone enough for all that.” As a kid, she’d gotten close to her friends early on, but even she had learned to hold back after the first couple tear-filled, heart-rending goodbyes.

“Right.” Luke scrubbed a hand over the back of his neck. “Well, my mom…she tried. She’s excited.”

“Don’t worry. I’m sure it’s wonderful. And no matter what, it’s so much more than anything I could have expected or wanted. It was nice of her to do this.”

In fact, it was one of the nicest things anyone had ever done for her. It almost took the sting out of the fact that she’d finally made the call to give her parents the news and extend an invite and they had opted to not attend.

Almost.

The radio buzzed on for a little while longer, and then they pulled into the driveway. Outside, blue balloons were strung around the mailbox, and in big, childish letters someone—probably Tyler—had hung a banner with the words “It’s a Boy!”

Tawny grinned and opened her door, but before she could climb down, Luke was there, holding out his hand for her.

“I can get out of the car, Luke,” she said.

“Just let me help you.”

She rolled her eyes, but gave him her palm all the same, hating herself for the rush of need that rolled through her at the small, impersonal touch. When she was on the ground again, she wished she could grip his hand, keep it there, and hold it for the rest of the night, but just as quickly, he had slipped it away and moved to hold the door open for her.

She thanked him as she crossed the threshold into the house, and for a moment she didn’t recognize the place. The toys that normally littered the floor had apparently been put away and, sitting on the second-hand furniture that lined the room, were the faces of the people she’d come to care for most.