It was five o’clock and her day off, but he had a feeling he’d find her here. She was behind the counter, her laptop open, and from the looks of things, was deep in concentration.
He took a deep breath, swung open the door, and walked in. At least she hadn’t locked it yet. He almost tripped over a bun.
“What the?” He looked down and noticed buns everywhere.
“Don’t trip on the rolls,” Claire called out, not looking away from her computer screen. He could see the makeup smudges from where he was standing, and he spotted the box of tissues. He had the strongest urge to protect her. He wanted to find out why she was crying, who had made her cry, and how he could find said person. Hopefully, he wasn’t the cause of her tears.
“Everything okay?” he asked, tentatively walking toward the counter, careful not to trip on a bun. He wanted to know what made Claire tick.
She didn’t look up from her computer. “Of course. Listen, I’ve been rethinking this whole thing—”
“No. No way. You can’t get rid of me,” he said, trying not to sound like a jerk. But when she raised her eyes to his, those glorious brown eyes weren’t accusing or angry. They were filled with something else and he wondered how he could have walked away from her that night. Because right now, there wasn’t anything in the world that could make him leave.
He closed the distance between them in two strides, not caring whether or not she was going to push him away. He took her hand and gently tugged her into his arms, feeling her resistance until he cradled the back of her head and she melted into him. Claire was right where she should be. He wrapped his other arm around her, feeling her softness, her warmth, and trying his best to absorb her pain.
He missed her. He missed the feel of her body, the warmth of her skin. The night in the hotel room had been so short, and the imprint of Claire in his mind was vividly clear. He heard and felt her take a shuddering breath, and knew she was trying to keep it all together. It only made him want to hold her tighter. He’d never been around long enough to offer anyone comfort, but all of that seemed so long ago, and when it came to Claire it was instinctive, reactive. Like how his heart pumped faster, and his senses hummed louder and moved into overdrive at the sight of her.
“I think I’m starting to get you,” Jake whispered, his mouth brushing against her hair, the clean, floral smell making him want to stay right there, all day.
“I’m actually a very complicated person. I’m sure you don’t get me at all,” she said, shaking her head against his chest, not letting him go.
“You put on this whole perfect act, like you’ve got it all together. You run a successful business, you’ve got a house, you’re a force to be reckoned with. Hell, you even had enough guts to stab my burger with a pregnancy stick in public. But it’s all a front, isn’t it?”
He felt her body tense against his, but she didn’t say anything. “You’ve got this entire other side to you and I had no idea, and I’m starting to realize that walking out on you that night hurt you far more than you let on.”
“No, no, you’ve got me all wrong,” she said, leaning back in his arms. He noticed she didn’t try to pull away from him, though.
“Really, I got it all wrong?” His eyes fell to her lips. He thought they looked even better without lipstick on them, natural and full.
She nodded. “You’re thinking because you’ve seen me cry or be emotional lately you’re the cause of it. It’s the pregnancy hormones. Seriously, I never cry and yet in the last few weeks, it’s all I do. So, nope, has nothing to do with you.”
“What happened at the doctor’s office today?” He watched her reaction closely.
She darted her eyes away from his. “There’s probably something else I should tell you before we get to that.”
Jake stared at her face for a moment. He had no idea what else she could possibly come up with now. He gave her a nod. “I’m listening.”
“I told my mother today.”
He let his head fall back on his shoulders as he stared up at the ceiling. He squeezed his eyes shut and counted to ten.
“I just didn’t want her to hear it from anyone else,” she said softly.
He looked down at her. “I wanted to be a part of that.”
“You’re right. You did say that, and I’m sorry.”
She knocked the wind right out of his argument, because the last thing he expected was an apology. He’d thought there would be arguing, justifying, maybe a few tears. Not an apology. “Thank you. I think if we’re going to make any of this work, we need to be open with each other. You need to tell me what’s going on,” he said gruffly.