Page 42 of Reticent

He laughs, and I love the sound of it. I also like the way his whole face lights up. He should laugh more often. It suits him. “Fuckboy warning?”

“I’m the guy you fuck. Not the guy you fall for,” I say, mimicking his deep voice.

He scratches his head. “I said that, didn't I?” He almost looks remorseful. Almost. But not quite.

“Uh-huh.” I bite my lip to keep from smiling. “You did.”

“So we’re friends? You and me?”

“We’re getting there.” I look away, feeling unsettled by the energy between us. Sexual chemistry, I can handle. But this feels like something else. Something neither of us wants.

“I know you’re more than capable of raising our son alone,” he says, shifting our conversation to a more serious topic.

“But I don’t want to.”

“But you can.”

“Yeah, I can. But we’re in this together.”

“We’re partners.”

I look away, clearing my throat. “So, um, I should go …” I chuck my thumb over my shoulder at the Bentley.

“Yeah, me too.” Hunter takes a step back, and the energy rights itself. “Try the Bentley for a couple of weeks. I can’t force you to keep it if you don’t like it.”

“I’ll take it for one week, and we’ll go from there.” I hold up the key fob. “This saves me a headache. So, thank you.”

Before I can talk myself out of it, I rise to my tiptoes and brush my lips against his smooth cheek. The tantalizing scent of his aftershave lingers in my nose.

He helps me into the SUV and closes the door behind me. I fire up the engine and roll down the window. I adjust my seat so that my foot can reach the gas pedal. It’s not until I’m all situated that I look at him again.

Hunter dips his head into the open window. “You have a full tank, so you should be good to go. I’ll stop by later this week to refill the tank.”

My pregnant horny mind thinks of another tank he can fill. “Cool. I’ll … uh … see you later.”

“Yes, you will.”

I leave Hunter’s apartment feeling hopeful and a little embarrassed. We click. It’s easy. Maybe this coparenting thing can really work. But I shouldn’t have kissed him. Not even on the cheek. It won’t happen again.

Chapter Seventeen

Deep breath in. Deep breath out.

Surrounded by pairs, I sit alone, focusing on my breathing and posture, not on the fact that Hunter is running ten minutes late. With my hands in the prayer position at my chest, I close my eyes, releasing my thoughts into the universe. Meditation music fills the background, and the smell of frankincense floats through the air.

I suggested Prenatal Partners Yoga as a way for Hunter and me to strengthen our bond and trust in one another. For the past three Friday nights, Hunter has left work early to meet me at a yoga studio with other expectant mothers and their partners.

Yoga hasn’t been the only thing keeping us connected. Doctor’s appointments, late-night phone calls, deciding on a baby name, early morning trips to the farmers’ market, and late-night dinners at his restaurants have all been conduits in our developing friendship. Our connection is effortless, and our excitement for Liam Emmett Demalio’s upcoming birth is mutual.

Deep breath in. Deep breath out.

I crack an eye open as Hunter lowers himself into the sitting position in front of me.

“Sorry I’m late,” he whispers.

“Okay, class,” Heather, our yogini, says in her soothing voice. “Bring your legs together in our Sukhasana pose and make sure your knees are touching your partner’s.”

Hunter and I follow her instructions, crisscrossing our legs with our knees touching. “You smell like basil,” I whisper.