Pregnant in Pennsylvania Read online

  He sets the food on the dining room table, and shoots a glance at Aiden. “How you doing, Aiden?”

  “Fine. The ice is making me all wet and cold, though.” He’s using his acting tough for Coach Trent voice; I can see his ankle is hurting him, but he’s too proud to admit it.

  I remove the ice pack and then the towel. “Oh, crap,” I grouse. “It leaked all over the couch.”

  “I told you it was making me wet.”

  “I know, you’re right, you did.”

  He shoots a look at Jamie. “You were rushing around cleaning like a crazy woman, so you forgot, huh?”

  I frown at him as I mop up the wet spot with the towel. “Aiden! Rude!”

  “What? Papa said that to Grandma once, when she was having her friends over.”

  I snort. “Well, a good rule to follow is don’t repeat most of what Papa says, especially if he says it to Grandma.”

  Aiden tilts his head to one side, nodding. “Grandma does whack him after he says that kinda stuff. So maybe you’re right.”

  “Grandma and Papa have also been married for forty-six years, so Grandma knows Papa is teasing. It’s disrespectful for you to speak to me that way.”

  Jamie uses what I would call his “coach voice” on Aiden. “Hey, don’t be disrespectful to your mother, kid. She does more for you than you’ll ever know.” For such an unfailingly kind man, that was a surprisingly firm order.

  “Yes, Coach,” Aiden says, abashed. “Sorry, Mama.”

  Jamie glances at me. “You didn’t have to clean up for me.”

  I grin, blushing again. “You know how the inside of my car looks?” I indicate the house around us. “Sometimes, things around here get like that.”

  “Hey, no judgment here. I still haven’t completely finished unpacking.” He indicates the food. “Go crazy, you guys. I’ll get out of your hair.”

  Aiden sits up fast, looking almost panicked. “What? No! You have to stay and eat with us.”

  Jamie glances at me. “Well, I don’t know. You guys have had a long day, and—”

  I want him to stay.

  I don’t dare ask him to stay, because I’ve already turned him down and rejected him so many times, and I can’t risk ruining my objectivity.

  Who am I kidding? There’s no objectivity.

  “Stay, Jamie.” I grin, and try a teasing tone of voice. “Why do you think I bothered cleaning in the first place?”

  He shrugs. “When I offered to get you guys food, I wasn’t trying to invite myself over…” His eyes go to mine, fix there, intent and serious. “I haven’t forgotten what you said the last time we talked.”

  I wince, and play with my ponytail. “Jamie, I—that hasn’t changed. But this is a different kind of…situation.”

  He nods. “Understood.”

  Aiden is watching us carefully, trying to decipher the hidden meanings in our phrasing. “Is it time to eat yet?” he asks, a little too loudly.

  He moves carefully to the edge of the couch and starts trying to get up off the couch; Jamie rushes over to help him. “Whoa, there, kiddo—you have to be careful. Why don’t you just stay there and eat?”

  Aiden lets Jamie help him hobble without his crutches over to the dining room table. “Because I’m a messy eater and I’m not allowed to eat on the couch. I always spill something.”

  I sigh as Aiden sits down. “I would have made an exception this once, Aiden.”

  He rolls his eyes at me as he lifts his foot to rest it on a chair—I prop a pillow under it. “Why didn’t you say something before I got up?”

  I laugh. “Because you’d have spilled something.”

  So, I find myself at my table with Aiden on my left and Jamie on my right. There’s enough food for a dozen people, it turns out, because Jamie got the mega burritos, which are a pound each, and the three-piece order of chimichangas, on top of the two orders of nachos and two side salads. It’s comical, actually, how much food he got.

  He laughs as we unbox the food. “I haven’t eaten there yet, so I guess I didn’t realize how big the orders were.”

  I nod as he passes a chicken burrito to me, and a beef to Aiden. “His food is more expensive than Vinnie’s or Field’s, but it’s all fresh and homemade, and his orders are massive.”

  Jamie takes a few exploratory bites. “And delicious,” he says, around a mouthful.

  “If you’re serious about food, you go to José’s. It’s really the only decent place to eat in Clayton. Vinnie’s and Field’s both just have basic bar food to fill up drunk bellies.”

  It’s shockingly, achingly easy to sit and eat a meal with Jamie and Aiden. It’s natural. The conversation between the three of us is constantly flowing, changing—Jamie always includes Aiden, speaks to him as if Aiden is an adult, asks his opinion and listens, doesn’t dismiss him as just a kid, and he makes him laugh. His eyes flick to mine frequently, but he’s careful to not let his gaze linger too long, and I do the same. It’d be too easy. Too intimate.

  I catch his eyes flicking up to mine now and then, having stolen downward; it makes my belly flip, and my thighs clench. And my heart ache. I like the way he looks at me.

  But I don’t dare allow myself to want his gaze, his touch, his presence.

  This is just two friends sharing a meal. Nothing else.

  It takes us over an hour to eat, and when we’ve all eaten our fill, there are mind-boggling amounts of leftovers. I put some leftovers in Tupperware and stuff them in the fridge, and then make Jamie promise to take the rest to the teacher’s lounge at school the next day.

  By this time, Aiden is yawning, blinking hard, and rubbing his eyes.

  I squeeze his shoulder. “You should get to bed, buddy. Been a heck of a day for you.”

  He nods, and I know he’s tired when he doesn’t wheedle and bargain for a few more minutes. “I’m so tired, Mama.” He peers at me blearily. “Can I brush my teeth in the morning? I’m too tired.”

  I laugh gently. “Sure, Aiden. Just get into bed. You need the rest.”

  Jamie winks at him. “I have a feeling your principal would suggest you sleeping in tomorrow.”

  “What about my coach?” Aiden asks.

  “Your coach would also suggest extra rest—it’s the fastest way to let your body heal.”

  “Can I sleep in tomorrow? Go to school a little late?”

  I roll my eyes. “We’ll see. Just get to bed, and we’ll see what ends up happening. But yes, I imagine I’ll let you sleep for a while.”

  He rises from the table unsteadily, hobbling on his crutches, and then hops over to me, and gives me a big, long hug. “Love you, Mama.” He then goes to Jamie and they bump fists. “Good night, Coach.”

  “Night, bud,” Jamie says.

  I help Aiden change and get into bed, tuck him in, and kiss him on the top of the head. “Love you, Aiden. Sleep well.”

  Aiden just nods sleepily as I shut off the light and rearrange his crutches. Within seconds, he’s snoring, and I head back out into the living room.

  “Wow, that was fast,” Jamie says.

  I shake my head. “No kidding. Usually he tries to get me to let him stay up a few more minutes. One more episode, a few more minutes of playing with his LEGOs, or he just dawdles over brushing his teeth and getting ready for bed. And when he is finally in bed, he usually reads for a while.”

  “So he must be pretty bushed.”

  I nod. “It was a lot for him, today.”

  Silence between us.

  Jamie is leaning against the dining room table, fiddling with the top of a chair. “I, um…”

  “Thank you again, Jamie.” I let my eyes rest on his.

  He shrugs. “I’m his coach and his principal. Plus, I just like the kid.”

  I lift an eyebrow. “You’re an educator and a principal. Don’t you like all kids?”

  “You know, I feel like, professionally, I’m obligated to say yes, but…” he laughs, “personally speaking, no, I don’t. Some kids are just�
��little buttheads. Their parents haven’t taught them manners, or how to just be decent people. My job is to treat them all the same, to show them the same considerations and make sure everyone receives the best education possible, but…I don’t personally like every child.”

  I make a face. “Yeah, I get that. It’s not that I have favorites, but…”

  “Kids are people, and we click with some people and not others. Kids are no different, they’re just not finished developing. I’ve had kids I taught come back a few years later and they’ve grown up a bit and changed, and I like them more than when I taught them. But others…just rub me the wrong way every time I see them.” He glances at his feet, and then up at me, his gaze on my cleavage for a moment before finding my eyes. “I just…Aiden is one of those kids I just genuinely like. I truly enjoy hanging out with him, talking to him. He’s a really, really great kid, and that reflects on you as his mom.”

  I blush. “He makes it easy. He really is great. Even as a baby, he wasn’t difficult. He didn’t cry much except for the usual stuff, you know—needing a diaper or a bottle—and as he’s grown up he just…he’s just cool.” I roll my eyes. “I mean, I’m his mom, so I guess I have to think that. But I also just think he’s a cool kid.”

  “He is.”

  I feel the tension between us like a physical presence, a tangling object.

  I feel him wanting to look at me, yet constantly forcing his gaze away. I feel his presence, his gaze. I feel my own pull to him.

  A visceral memory of him assaults me—his lips, his hands. Darkness around us, skin sliding on skin. Moonlight on his back as it ripples and undulates above me.

  I turn away, chewing on my lower lip.

  “What?” Jamie asks. “What it is?”

  I swallow hard. I’m not sure what to say. “I just…you being here, being alone with you like this…”

  He goes very, very still, his eyes locked on mine, his expression unreadable, carefully neutral. “Elyse, I know what you’ve said, and I haven’t forgotten.”

  “I’m just so confused, Jamie.” I say this not looking at him, but at his feet, his dirty, battered running shoes.

  “Confused about what?”

  “You, me…this.”

  Jamie nods. “I know what you mean. It’s a weird, confusing situation.” He sucks in a breath, holds it, and then lets it out slowly. Hesitating, thinking about what to say. “Elyse, I…I’m trying to just be your friend. I really am. But it’s the hardest damn thing.”

  “You’re so great with Aiden. He just absolutely worships you, and…” I swallow hard. “I can’t deny I’m attracted to you, that I like you.”

  “But…” he prompts.

  “But Aiden needs you as his principal and his coach. He has my dad, and Dad is a great male role model for him. But Aiden needs something else. Someone younger to teach him things Dad can’t. To be there for him in a way Dad can’t, just as his grandpa. And now Aiden has you as that, and I…I can’t risk that. I can’t risk taking that away from him for my own selfish reasons.”

  “Wouldn’t it be adding something? If you and I were…if we spent more time together, I’d be able to be around more, if you wanted that. If you allowed it. I’m not assuming anything, I just…” He sighs, hunting for the right words. “I feel like it could add to the roles I could play for him. And I won’t mince words, Elyse: I’d like that.”

  “It’s tempting, Jamie. You have no idea how tempting.” I have to close my eyes, I can’t look at him. “But what if…”

  “You can’t live your life scared of the what-ifs, Elyse,” Jamie says.

  I shake my head, pacing away from him. “How do you not? It’s all I think about. What if I let something with you and me happen, and Aiden gets even more attached to you than he is, and then something happens between us? What then, for Aiden? And for myself, I ask the same question, you know? Like, what if I let something happen, and I get attached, and then something happens. It was hard enough with what happened with Daniel and me. You and me, we would be…different. Which is why it’s so tempting.” I find myself facing the window beside the front door, staring out into the darkness beyond, my arms wrapped around my middle. “But the what-ifs run through my head, and I think back to how devastated Aiden was when Daniel left, and how he thought it was his fault, and how hurt he was, how hurt he still is, and I just…I get so scared. And it freezes me up. And I just…can’t.”

  I hear his steps, feel him standing behind me. Smell him. Sense his heat. “Elyse…” His voice is so close, his breath is on my ear. He’s nearly touching me; he’s standing so close. “You’re not asking the reverse what-ifs.”

  I twist in place, and I’m staring up at him. So close. So, so close. His hands lift, hover over my waist, then settle on my hips. “What…” My voice cracks, breaks, drops to a helpless whisper. “What do you mean?”

  “What if, you say…what if something happened. And I say, yeah, what if something did happen? What if we were great together? What if we lasted? What if you got attached and Aiden got attached, and I got attached to the both of you—more so than I already am, I’ll be the first to admit—and it was a wonderful, beautiful, lasting thing?”

  I blink hard. He swims in front of me, blurred and hazy. “Jamie, dammit, not fair.”

  “Just asking the same question you are, from the opposite perspective.”

  “How do we know which it’ll be?”

  He shakes his head, shrugs. “You don’t. We wouldn’t. We’d be taking that risk.”

  “And that’s the risk I’m afraid of.”

  “Wouldn’t it be worth it, if it was the what-if I’m suggesting?” he says, closing the space between us, so our bodies are touching. “Wouldn’t it be worth the risk, if things worked out?”

  “Yeah,” I breathe, “it would be.” I inhale sharply. “But the cost if it doesn’t…that’s what stops me.”

  “There’d be a cost for me too, Elyse. I’ve been hurt and abandoned, too—I’ve felt like I wasn’t enough.”

  “If there was some way of just…knowing…” I whisper.

  “I wish there was, too.” He shrugs. “But there’s not, is there? So we just have to risk, and trust.”

  I stare up into his eyes. Swallow hard. Fight for breath.

  “Dammit, Elyse.” His whisper is hoarse, frustrated.

  “What?”

  He shakes his head, his jaw flexing. “I just…” He lets out a sharp huff.

  “What, Jamie? Just say it.”

  “It’s not something I need to say.” His brown eyes aren’t just warm, now—they’re hot, eager, fiery, blazing and intense.

  “Then what?”

  His hands lift from my waist, and wrap around my face, thumbs brushing my cheekbones, palms on my jaw, fingers tracing the tender skin behind my ear and under the fall of my hair.

  “I need to kiss you,” he says, his voice strong and confident.

  “Jamie…”

  He shakes his head, brow furrowing. “I have to kiss you. I need to know.”

  “Need to know what?”

  “If it’s like I remember it being.”

  “How do you remember it?”

  He brings his mouth to mine, whispers with his lips brushing mine. “Like…heaven. Like home.”

  I blink hard, and then my eyelids remain shut and all I feel is him, his body against mine, his palms on my cheeks and his fingers dancing along my skin and his lips against mine.

  The kiss is everything that is sensual. I’m lost in it immediately. Instantly. I breathe him, taste him, feel him. Only him. Jamie is everything, everywhere. The cool panes of glass against my back, his hips hard against mine, my breasts crushed between us, I lift my face to his and open my lips and take his tongue, strong and hungry, against my teeth and lips and tongue.

  His thumbs brush my cheekbones and my heartbeat is a hammering drum in my chest. I lean into him, gasp through the kiss and drown in it.

  My skin heats, and tightens. Tingle
s. I throb. My hands tangle in his hair and catch at it, pulling him closer.

  God, kissing Jamie Trent is incredible.

  His words: Like heaven, like home.

  My words: Sweet, delirious perfection.

  My heart throbs, pounding with frantic intensity—my heart opens like a flower spreading her petals for the sunlight. I clutch at him and I whimper, and I kiss him for all I’m worth.

  God, I could kiss him forever.

  His palms slide down my cheeks, and our lips move, meld, shift, lock and seek and hunt and slide. His tongue dances along mine. His hands are at my waist, on my hips.

  I’m not breathing, only kissing Jamie.

  I’m trapped between Jamie and the window, and I want nothing in this moment but to remain here like this, trapped thus, his lips devouring mine.

  His heartbeat slams in his chest, each beat going thumpthump…thumpthump against my ribcage, against my breasts.

  He palms my backside, and I lift up, press against him, lean into his touch and cradle his head in my hands and lift up on my toes and I kiss him, and I kiss him, and I kiss him.

  “Mom?” Aiden’s voice is so confused.

  12

  Jamie backs away, dragging his wrist across his lips. He doesn’t turn around to face Aiden; my eyes flick down to his fly, and I see why.

  I’m on fire.

  Heart palpitating, head throbbing, lips tingling, core tight and hot, thighs shaking. My emotions are everywhere.

  “Aiden, I…” I push away from the window and look over to see Aiden standing in his doorway, sagging against the doorframe, staring bleary-eyed at me and Jamie.

  “Mom, my foot really hurts,” he says. “I can’t sleep.”

  “The painkillers must have worn off,” I say as I rush over to him. “Let’s get you back in bed and you can take another one of the pills they gave us at the hospital.” My mind is a blur, but I try to sound normal.

  I get Aiden settled back into bed, his nightlight glowing softly, and he cuddles his well-worn bunny. “I’ll be right back with a pill and some water.”

  By the time I arrive back in his room, Aiden is almost asleep. I shake him gently, give him his pill, and tuck him in with a kiss.