Page 22 of Stick Around
“How am I supposed to afford a place for myself and this baby if my parents kick me out? And even if they don’t, I can’t live with them forever. I don’t even want to be living with them now.”
Billy furrowed his brow. “Well, wouldn’t you move in here?”
Grace stopped and turned to meet his eyes. “What?”
“I mean, if we’re going to have a baby together, then won’t we get married? That’s what people do, isn’t it? I know my place isn’t the best, but it would be a start. We could save up for something bigger.”
Grace stared at Billy, incredulous.Married?
She looked around the room and the life she’d dreamed of since she was a teenager rose up around her. Glancing at the kitchen, she watched herself open the fridge and pull out a head of lettuce, bringing it to the sink to wash. She wore bare feet and jeans rolled up to her calves, and she was swinging her hips to some music playing out of earshot. Cookies were baking in the oven and she could smell the sweet vanilla and sugar.
Turning to the living room floor, she saw Billy laying on his back, holding a dark-haired, grinning toddler above him. He swooped the child up high before dropping him back down to blow raspberries on his belly. They both giggled, and the Grace at the sink peeked back over her shoulder at them. She was smiling. She was happy.
Tears welled in Grace’s eyes. It looked, sounded, and even smelled just like the fantasy she’d held in her heart all these years. But it didn’t feel like the fantasy.I can’t take this. Not like this.
She let out a deep exhale and lowered herself onto the couch. “I can’t ask you to marry me.”
“You’re not asking me to. I’m the one bringing it up.”
“I know. Because you’re a good guy.” She smiled up at him, and he crouched down in front of her.
“I’m not that good of a guy,” he smirked.
Grace laughed. “Yes, you are.” She touched his cheek. “I should have known this is how you’d react. I don’t know why I was worried you’d be upset.” She straightened her posture. “I appreciate your invitation—”I can’t believe I’m going to say this,“—but no, I can’t marry you.”
Billy’s face fell. He stood up and shoved his hands in his pockets before turning and walking across the living room. He stood facing the window, his back to Grace.
“I’m sorry,” she continued. “I can’t trap you into a marriage you didn’t want—” Billy turned around, his mouth open, but Grace held up her hand and continued. “And I can’t spend the rest of my life married to someone that never truly wanted me.”
“That’s not true. Of course I want you. You and the baby.”
She searched the ceiling for the right words. “When my husband proposes to me someday, I need to hear how much he loves me, how much he can’t wait to spend every day of his life loving me.”I want to hear that from you. So badly it feels like a rusty scalpel dragging through my chest.“I know you’re trying to do the right thing here, but ‘that’s what people do’ isn’t enough for me.”
She stood up and pulled her shoulders back. “We don’t have to figure everything out right now. I’m going to tell my family tonight, but I wanted to tell you first and now you know. We’ve got time to discuss how everything is going to work.”
Billy nodded, but his eyes wouldn’t meet hers.
She stepped toward him and placed her hand on his arm. He tipped his eyes up to her, and Grace’s stomach lurched. Those warm brown eyes that always held a little twinkle of mischief were dark.
“I gotta go,” she whispered before darting through the kitchen and out the door, not daring to look back.
* * *
“Why doesNoah have to eat here every night?” Grace took a stack of four dinner plates out of the cupboard and set them on the counter. Her mother’s lasagna was bubbling in the oven, and the aroma of garlic and basil filled the kitchen.
“He doesn’t eat here every night,” her mother replied.
Grace rolled her eyes at the silverware drawer. “Practically. He has his own place. I don’t know why he can’t cook his own food.”
Her mother finished tossing the Caesar salad and handed the bowl to Grace. “Excuse me if I enjoy the company of my children when I eat. You eat here every night too, you know.”
Grace took the bowl, plucked a crouton from the top and popped it in her mouth. “Yeah, but I live here.”
“Well then, it seems your brother has one up on you.” She planted a kiss on Grace’s cheek. “At least he’s not mooching roomandboard.”
“Ha ha,” she deadpanned.
Grace tried to keep the mood light with her mother as they prepared dinner, but the burning lump in her stomach made it difficult.Why does frickin’ Noah have to be here?She thought a bit more. Maybe it was better to just get it all over with in one shot.
