Page 134 of Wish I Might
Shaking free of the epiphany, Bailey slapped her hands down on the table, making the silverware jump.“Of course, I’m scared!Have we forgotten hebroke my fucking heart?”
“No, we haven’t forgotten,” Chloe said quietly.
“I barely got through it the first time.If it happened again…” Bailey shook her head.“I don’t think I’d survive.”
“You would,” Gwen said with a certainty that made Bailey frown.“But that’s not really the point, is it?”
“It’s not?”Chloe asked.
Gwen shook her head, her eyes square on Bailey’s.“Every romantic choice you’ve made since then has been with one goal in mind—don’t fall in love, don’t risk another broken heart.”
Bailey had no choice but to go on the defensive.“Can you blame me?”
“No,” Chloe said.“That breakup was brutal.You did what you had to do to get through it.”
“But now, here you are, in love again despite all your best efforts.Maybe you’ve been in love with him the whole time.And you have to decide if you’re going to risk it all again.”Gwen picked up her coffee, took a sip.“So what are you going to do?”
Bailey just stared at her for a moment, then let her head fall to the table.
“Miss?”Chloe called.“We’re going to need more cinnamon rolls.
* * * *
Bailey drove home with the air conditioning blasting in her face.She hoped it would help with the nausea, but so far it wasn’t doing much.She was so anxious she felt like she could throw up, but that could have been the cinnamon rolls.The fourth one had probably been a mistake, and the box of them sitting on the passenger seat, filling the car with the scent of butter and sugar and cinnamony goodness, wasn’t helping.
When she pulled into her driveway, her stomach gave a warning lurch.Nash was on the front porch swing, idly gliding back and forth, using his bare toes to push off the floorboards.He hadn’t bothered with a shirt and his hair was still tousled from sleep, and he looked so damn good she couldn’t decide if she wanted to jump him or throw up or just keep driving until she got to Kentucky.
None of those seemed like appropriate options, so she picked up the box of pastries and got out of the car.
She climbed the porch steps, his sleepy smile and sleepy eyes welcoming and warm and making her feel like a shit coward.“Hey, you.”
“Hey.”She handed him the box.“Cinnamon rolls, as promised.”
“Mmm.”He set his coffee down on the porch and opened the lid, giving the contents an appreciative sniff.“Can’t beat that smell.”He plucked one from the box, then held it out.
She shook her head.“I had four already.”
“Jesus, Bailey.”Chuckling, he set the box down on the swing and picked up his coffee.“Was Chloe okay?”
“Sure,” she said, confused.Why wouldn’t Chloe be okay?
“No complications?”
She almost saidfrom what?then realization hit, followed quickly by guilt.Jesus, she’d spent two hours with her best friendwho’d just had an abortion, and hadn’t asked her once how she was feeling.“No, she’s fine.”
“Good.”He sank his teeth into the cinnamon roll, watching her as he chewed.He swallowed, took a sip of his coffee.“Then what’s wrong?”
She shoved her hands into her pockets.“What makes you think something is wrong?”she said, automatically trying to brazen it out, then kicked the porch rail.“Shit.Shit, shit, shit.”
“You’re going to break a toe,” he said she continued to kick the porch rail on eachshit.
“At least I know what to do about that,” she muttered, but since a trip to urgent care would just put a cap on her day, she stopped.
“Is this about last night?”
She forced herself to look at him.“Kind of.”
At her words his gaze darkened with concern.“Did someone do something you didn’t like?”
