Page 70 of Ruin The Friendship
“Do you want her at your baby shower? I mean, she hasn’t exactly been supportive during your pregnancy this far.”
“I do,” I say carefully. “I mean, she’s my mom.”
“That doesn’t mean she has to be there,” he replies, eyeing me slowly. “She upset you. If you want her there, that’s your choice, but I don’t want you to get hurt again.”
“I know. I’m still a little raw after everything, and the call happened so fast, but I do want her there. I want a relationship with her.”
Fletcher pushes my hair from my eyes, wiping a tear I didn’t realize had fallen. “Okay, beautiful.”
I can tell he wants to say more, maybe to protect me or stand up for me, but he doesn’t, and I’m grateful. I may have made the wrong choice, but I can’t help hoping she changes for the better. That she asked about the shower gives me faith that the time apart has changed things, and maybe she’ll be more excited. She’ll want to be a part of this chapter of my life.
32
LYDI-BUGS & LADYBUGS
LYDIA
“I’m glad we don’t have to go anywhere today.” I peer out the balcony window at the heavy snow falling. It’s absolutely beautiful, like something straight out of a movie.
“Me too.” Fletcher comes up behind me and wraps his arms around my waist. “The hot chocolate is almost done.”
“I can’t believe you got that recipe from them.” I chuckle. “I didn’t need it that badly.”
“Yes, you did. It worked out well. I promise.” Fletcher nuzzles his head into my neck, inhaling deeply.
“Whatever you say.” I lean into him, breathing in the sharp zing of his body wash. It’s so familiar now, so him.
“Sit down and get comfy.” Fletcher pulls away, and I miss the heat of his body immediately. “I’ll grab the hot chocolate.”
I do as he says as he makes his way into the kitchen. The sound of clinking mugs and spoons makes my mouth water in anticipation.
“When do you want to open presents?” I call, tucking a blanket around me. We don’t do many presents for each other. This year, there are only three for each of us underthe small tree in the corner, but the random seventh present sitting in the middle is calling to me.
I didn’t think I cared much about finding out the baby's gender. It truly doesn’t matter; I’ll love them no matter what, but after Fletcher mentioned it, I can’t stop thinking about it. I’m excited. I want to know, now.
“Whenever you want.” He strides back into the living room with two mugs of hot chocolate.
He’s constantly asking how I’m feeling, doing little things for me, and providing for me in different ways. The other day, I mentioned that my feet were sore after a long day of coaching, and he rubbed them for an hour. He didn’t have to do that, but he didn’t even question it. He just did it.
He came with me to help me set up my registry, picking out all the things I’ll need, but that doesn’t even compare to the way he listened to the store associate as she explained the different types of car seats. She helped decide which one would be best, and he made sure to get a second car seat for his vehicle as well. He’s been to every doctor’s appointment, asking about what to expect in the coming weeks of my pregnancy, and more.
I can’t help but think about how our future might look, what our life together might be, and what he’ll be like as a father. Surely, he’ll be incredible if he’s already an amazing partner to me in the short time we’ve been doing this.
He’s always been attractive, of course, but now that we’re dating, I’ve really given myself permission to ogle him.
He’s in a pair of low-hanging red-and-green flannel pajama pants, showing his impressive V-line and muscles. He’s shirtless, and my eyes roam over his bare chest. His chest hair is trimmed, and his muscles are prominent. The difference between then and now is that before, I found him attractive, but I wasn’t turned on by him. Now, he can giveme one simple look, wink, or flex his muscles, and I’m a puddle. Seriously, I don’t think I’ve been so turned on in my life, let alone my best friend.
Fletcher winks at me—because of course he does—and I promptly let out a squeak.
“Sorry,” I mutter, taking the mug from him.
The heat from the ceramic warms my cold hands as I take a sip of the creamy liquid, distracting me from my embarrassment.
“Nothing to be sorry for. You can look anytime you want. I’m yours for the viewing.” He sits, sipping his hot chocolate. “As for presents, we can do it anytime.”
I nod, trying to hide my eagerness.
“You don’t care about any of the presents but one, do you?” Fletcher says, his voice filled with humor.
