FULL NOVELXO Chapter 27
I wake up alone in bed, but the delicious smells wafting in from the kitchen tell me Patrick’s up to something good. I stretch and can’t help but feel a twinge of guilt for being so distant last night. It wasn’t fair to him, especially after such a big night at Savor, but between the pregnancy and what I overheard in the bathroom last night, my mind’s still swirling.
I grab my phone and see a barrage of texts from Stacy, each more dramatic than the last:
Good morning! Did you spill the tea yet?
You can’t just leave me in suspense! What’d he say?
Helloooo, are you ignoring me? I’m literally on the edge of my seat here!
I chuckle, feeling her impatience vibrating through the phone. I type a quick reply to calm her down, or at least try to.
But then my thoughts drift back to Donnie from last night, his creepy stares and that sleazy grin. Just the memory of them makes my skin crawl. How am I supposed to concentrate on work with that murder plot lurking in the background?
Shaking off the ick, I decide it’s time to face the music—and the yummy smells. Maybe a good breakfast will give me the boost I need to finally tell Patrick about the baby.
With a deep breath and a plan to tackle one thing at a time, I toss the covers back and head to the closet. Time to turn on the charm and ease into the big news.
I quickly throw on one of Patrick’s dress shirts, taking a moment to savor the scent that lingers on the fabric, and step out of the bedroom.
Pausing at the doorway of a spare bedroom, I’m struck by how unused it seems, like a blank canvas waiting for a new picture. The morning sunlight streams through the window, bathing the room in a warm, inviting glow. I step inside, my eyes imagining where a crib could go and picturing cheerful kids’ decor brightening up the walls and a soft carpet strewn with toys. It’s so easy to envision a child’s laughter filling up this space.
The daydream snaps me back to reality with a pang of urgency. I need to talk to Patrick, and I need to do it today. With a deep breath, I turn from the potential nursery and head toward the kitchen, the aroma of breakfast growing stronger.
Patrick stands at the stove, expertly maneuvering a slotted spoon to retrieve perfectly poached eggs from a simmering pot. One glance at the setup, and I recognize the makings of eggs Benedict. My stomach growls in anticipation.
‘Morning,’ I call out, trying to keep my voice light despite the butterflies fluttering in my stomach about the conversation ahead.
Patrick glances over his shoulder, his smile bright and welcoming. ‘Good morning,’ he replies cheerfully. ‘I see you’ve raided my wardrobe,’ he adds, his eyes flicking appreciatively down to the dress shirt I’ve thrown on. It hangs loosely on me, barely covering my thighs.
I laugh, a blush creeping up my cheeks. ‘I like your style,’ I tease back, admiring his relaxed morning look. He’s wearing a sleeveless shirt that shows off his toned arms and lounge pants that hug his form exactly right, especially around his butt. I can’t help but let my gaze linger a little longer than necessary.
‘Hope you’re hungry,’ he says, turning back to his task but still wearing that easy, inviting smile. He plates the eggs with a practiced hand, layering them over toasted English muffins and a generous helping of hollandaise sauce. The dish looks like something out of a gourmet magazine.
As he sets the plates on the kitchen island, I pull up a stool, still a bit distracted by the swirl of thoughts regarding our future and how to broach the topic of the pregnancy.
Patrick notices as I push the food around my plate, lost in thought. He puts his fork down and reaches across the table, taking my hand gently. His touch is warm and grounding.
“Whatever’s on your mind, we can talk about it,” he says, his voice calm and reassuring. “We’re in this together, remember? We can work through anything.”
His words, so full of trust and partnership, make my heart swell even as they collide with the anxiety of my thoughts. I look into his eyes, finding the strength I need in his steady gaze.
‘I’m pregnant,’ I say softly, watching every shift in his expression, every minute reaction.
For a moment, Patrick just stares, his face unreadable. Then, a mix of emotions plays across his features—surprise, confusion, perhaps a flicker of fear. He leans back slightly, his voice carrying a note of disbelief.
“You’re what?”
“Pregnant.”
He stares off into space for a moment but quickly composes himself. It’s the most out of sorts I’ve ever seen him.
‘I thought I was done with diapers and midnight feedings,’ he mumbles, his tone bordering on incredulous.
I don’t like his words. They sound like a dismissal, a step back from the responsibility looming ahead.
His reaction stings more than I expected. I feel a sharp pang of hurt, and without thinking, I pull my hand back from his grasp. ‘If you’re not interested in being a part of this, I can handle it on my own,’ I say, my voice firm, even though my heart is racing. I’m not going to force him to be in the baby’s life, but the hurt is hard to mask.
His expression shifts from surprise to concern as he realizes the impact of his words. ‘No, Allie, that’s not what I meant,’ he starts, his tone changing as he reaches for my hand again, trying to bridge the gap he’s inadvertently created.
“That’s what you felt. It was your first reaction.”
Before Patrick can say another word, I’m already up from the table and striding toward the bedroom with purpose. My chair squeaks a dramatic farewell as I march away to pack up my things.
I’m busy stuffing belongings into my bag when I hear Patrick’s hastening footsteps.
“I’ll just grab a cab,” I announce, zipping up my bag with more force than necessary. The room fills with a tense silence that hangs heavy between us. “No reason for me to be here if you don’t want me to be.”
He closes the distance quickly, his hand catching my arm gently.
“Allie, wait,” he pleads, drawing me into a firm hug before I can protest. His embrace envelops me, warm and reassuring, and I reluctantly melt a little despite myself. “I’m sorry for how I reacted,” he murmurs, his voice muffled in my hair. “I didn’t mean to come across as uncaring; I was just caught off guard.”
He steps back just enough to look at me, his hands shifting to rest lightly on my stomach. The serious look in his eyes softens into something tender and warm. “I’d be honored to raise a child with a woman as amazing as you,” he says.
“You mean that?”
He smiles. “How the hell could I not?”
The ice around my heart thaws instantly. I peer up at him, searching for any trace of doubt, but all I see is genuine affection and a hint of awe.
“Thank you, Patrick,” I whisper, my earlier resolve softening into a smile.
Maybe we’ll be in this together after all.