To my surprise, she let a quiet, airy laugh slip out despite clearly being nervous. But what surprised me even more was what she said next. It was a short, simple statement, but it hit me square in the heart all the same: "I think I'm really starting to like you."
A rush of energy shot through me, made me feel more alert, more awake. And it was all because of her confession. The way she said it, the way she worded it was so innocent, reminding me of what it felt like to have a crush on a girl-like back in the day before it got to be about lust or sex or any of that. Back when it was just about connecting with someone.
Damn … maybe that's what this was. We were crushing on each other.
Looking down, I shook my head, smiling at the irony. Here we were, two adults, expecting our first child together, experiencing emotions we both probably thought we'd moved past in our teens.
"I like you, too," I said back, kind of mocking her, but speaking words of truth at the same time.
I did like her.
A lot.
I felt somewhat better having gotten to the bottom of things, but I'd feel even better getting to keep an eye on her for a little while. So, feeling bold all of a sudden, I blurted, "Stay with me. Tonight. After they release you. Then I'll take you in to get checked out by your doctor in the morning."
I expected a protest following the invitation to stay over, expected one-hundred and one excuses as to why she couldn't, but none of that ever happened. Instead, she nodded, grinning at me when she answered, "Okay."
I smiled back. "Okay."
My eyes went to her lips when she drew the bottom one into her mouth and I was reminded of doing that very same thing to those lips about a week ago. The moment was interrupted by a light knock at the door. When the person didn't enter right away, Brynn called out to invite them in.
Naseem laid eyes on me first when he entered, next shifting them to Brynn, and finally settling on her fingers interlocked with mine. Whatever questions she wasn't able to answer for him earlier, they were answered now as he observed us and I watched as the realization hit him.
When he looked away, he tried to be casual, clearing his throat before addressing Brynn. "I uh … I just didn't want to leave without letting you know," he said quietly. "So … this is me letting you know."
Brynn nodded, but her expression stayed vague. She also didn't bother trying to pull her hand free from mine. I liked that, liked knowing that she wasn't into playing games.
"Thank you for meeting me down here," she replied.
Naseem nodded, now watching his shoes as he stood in the middle of the room with his hands tucked inside the pockets of his slacks. "Yeah … well … I just wanted to make sure you were all right and I didn't want you waiting here alone."
Brynn nodded and the words, "I appreciate that," concluded what she had to say to him.
Yeah, things were definitely tense between them.
He glanced at her one last time before leaving. Knowing how their earlier conversation had gone, I imagined they'd have a lot to discuss once things cooled off; about their friendship, about us, and that was understandable. However, if this happened again, if he got her worked up and I had to bring her back to this hospital … Naseem wouldn't like how it ended.
Chapter Seventeen
Brynn
We spent the better part of the afternoon at the hospital. I got through to make an appointment to see my doctor in the morning while we waited, so the physician on call felt comfortable sending me home. A nurse finally came in to release me just as the sun set.
Marco stopped by my house so I could grab a bag of my things and then he brought me here, to his place. I couldn't believe I actually agreed to this, but honestly? There was no doubt in my mind that I was in good hands.
Our drive ended in the driveway of a beautiful, brick home. It was large enough for an entire family to fill it up, but Marco lived here alone. It wasn't overly lavish, just more than I imagined a single man needed.
He cut off the engine and reached to the backseat to grab my belongings. In the process, his body pressed against the side of mine and I couldn't help but to gawk at him, the way the muscle and veins running along the side of his neck became more pronounced as he reached for my bag. There wasn't anything about him I didn't like. Not a single thing. His every move, every word, drew me deeper into him.
By the time he sat upright again, I'd looked straight ahead, pretending to only be ogling his house and not him.
"Ready?" he asked, none the wiser.
I nodded. "Yep."
I didn't move from my seat when he climbed out, knowing the routine. In his presence, I wasn't to touch a single door. I thanked him when he helped me from the passenger seat and then followed him up the walkway. He unlocked the front door, reached in to flip on the light and of course, let me enter first.
Stepping into the foyer, I gazed up to the second floor. It was open other than a wooden banister overlooking the lower-level. I came out of my shoes and felt the cool, Spanish tile beneath my feet. My eyes followed the pattern through to the kitchen-large pieces the shade of warm amber, offset by the presence of the occasional, smaller tile in vibrant royal blue.
Warm. That word summed his place up from what I could see, standing there as I soaked in the details of my surroundings. A hint of sandalwood scented the air-a rustic, and yet gentle, aroma I picked up on right away. Everything appeared to be clean and in its place without him even knowing he'd have company today. Apparently, this was just how he lived. Not your typical bachelor pad.
Looking around, I realized that very few things about him were ever what I expected. He'd been surprising me a lot these past months. Whatever I thought I knew about him, thought I figured out, he shot down those assumptions and it blew me away. His outer appearance-one that would lead most to believe he was kind of rough around the edges-definitely didn't tell the whole story. This man was complex … and I looked forward to peeling back all his layers.
"Make yourself at home," he said with a smile, passing with my bag in hand as he walked toward the steps. He went up, disappearing down a hallway to the right. Slowly, I made my way around the first floor, exploring further because he said it was okay.
His mantle was full of family pictures. I smiled at the one of him and Izzy. It looked like they were at an amusement park and he was most likely spoiling her like I watched him do at his parents' house.
I moved down the line to one of his sisters, all grinning and showing off the tattoos he'd told me the story about. Further down, there was one of his parents posing out in front of their home as they stood beside a for sale sign with a SOLD sticker across it. He had all their moments showcased here and it told me one thing: he was proud of them, proud of where he came from.
The next image I came across intrigued me. It was of Marco and a group of guys – all races, all very different, but I could tell they were close even in this picture.
"Find anything good?"
I jumped at the sound of Marco's voice, placing a hand on my chest right after. He laughed, realizing he scared me, and so did I.
"I was just looking at your photos," I explained, turning back to the one of him in the group. "These your friends?" I asked.
He nodded and came closer. In the brief pause before he answered my question, I watched his lips.
"Carlos. Justin. Logan," he replied, pointing as he named the brood. They were all just as ripped as he was, all attractive. "We work together," he added.
That didn't surprise me, seeing as how they were all covered in tattoos. The only one who didn't have any visible was the one he pointed out as Justin. I suppose it wasn't a requirement for a tattoo artist to be covered in them, but that was usually the case. The thought made me curious as to how many more Marco had that I hadn't seen. The only ink visible with his clothes on was what I'd seen on his arm and wrist.
"You hungry?" he asked, staring at the remote in his hand while finding something to play on the stereo.
"Umm … sure. What do you have?"
He rambled off a list. "Carne frita con cebolla, surullitos, and some fruit, too, I think."
I pretended not to be turned on hearing him speak Spanish … even if he was only talking about food. Didn't matter. Just the way it rolled off his tongue in that rough tone of his.
When I didn't speak, he explained. "Ma made it. I sent Luce a text to let her know you weren't feeling well and I'd be bringing you back here, so she dropped this off a little while ago."
Fidgeting with the charm on my necklace, I reminded myself to blink. "Oh … that was nice of her. Sounds good."