He was insecure? Inching closer to the heart of the matter, she said, “Why do you say that?”
Trip placed a hand on her stomach. “Because they love you. They want all your dreams to come true, but I’m in the way. I’ve messed with the life they wanted you to have. The kind of life they have.”
“A married life, you mean.” She noticed he’d conveniently left out how it was also the life she wanted.
He hesitated, avoiding her gaze but keeping a firm hold on her. “Yes.”
“And marriage will never be for you, will it?” She kept her eyes down, unable to face him, or face the truth.
She felt him shrug, but he said nothing. Tension poured off his body in waves, rocking her emotions like a small rowboat adrift in a stormy sea.
In the ensuing silence, the bedroom seemed to shrink and become stuffy. A thousand unspoken words clogged her throat, making it impossible for Kelsey to catch her breath.
I love you.
Will you ever love me?
Will you ever need me?
“Kels?” He raised his hand to her face and forced her to look at him. “It’s not you.”
Despite her best efforts to be strong, she could feel tears stinging her eyes. “So you say.”
“It’s not you. You’re perfect. This—us—it’s incredible, too. Why can’t this be enough . . . one day at a time? No piece of paper pressuring us to stick it out if things turn sour.” He tightened his embrace and spoke enthusiastically, as if he might actually persuade her to see things from his skewed viewpoint. “Isn’t it better to wake up every day and make the choice to be together? Aren’t we less likely to take each other for granted that way? Less likely to be disappointed because we’re not setting up too many expectations? And let’s face it, in many ways we’re still getting to know each other.”
Insecure thoughts and doubts mushroomed like storm clouds, intensifying her headache. Couldn’t he understand that the freedom to walk away at any moment was exactly what she didn’t like about his perspective? When she tried to pry herself from his arms, he strengthened his hold.
“Kelsey, tell me why this hurts you. You know I’ve never wanted another woman as much, never felt as safe being myself, never been as content. That’s all because of you. Can’t we just embrace the journey?”
Kelsey couldn’t argue with all of his points. And sure, this whole thing had started less than three months ago, but she’d fallen in love. She could make a promise. She was ready.
Unfortunately, she couldn’t force him to feel what he didn’t.
She eased off his lap, and this time he didn’t stop her. “Let’s just drop it. My head is killing me.”
Kelsey turned down the covers and crawled under the sheets, her body exhausted from working the party.
Trip stood and faced her. “Do you want me to go?”
“If that’s what you want.” Her flagging energy and churning stomach stole all her fight.
Trip didn’t speak for a minute. Then he turned off the lamp and slid between the covers. He gently tugged her against his body, spooning her. Brushing his hands over her head and down her arm, he murmured, “I want you to be happy, not stressed and upset. You deserve nothing but happiness, and that’s what you’ll get. Trust me, princess. Everything will turn out all right, I promise.”
The fact that he’d just broken his rule against making promises he couldn’t keep shot a chill down her spine.
Chapter Eighteen
After eight hours locked in Trip’s arms, Kelsey felt him slink out of bed. She cracked open her eyes. In the dim room, she watched him cross to the window to peek behind the blinds. When he turned around—his face lit with enthusiasm—she knew the weatherman’s predictions had come true.
So much for a lazy Sunday morning in bed.
She pushed up to her elbow, dismissing the stiffness in her limbs. “Sneaking off?”
He clapped his hands together and rubbed them in excitement. “Nothing better than a foot of fresh pow in October—well, except maybe two feet.”
As he collected his clothing and dressed, she settled back beneath the covers and glanced at the clock. Six thirty. Her headache drummed on, and her lower back ached. She must’ve winced, because Trip walked toward her, frowning. He sat on the edge of the mattress and touched the back of his hand to her forehead.
“You don’t look so good, princess. Are you sick?”
“No. I’m just achy.”