“I don’t know—maybe two, three hours?”
“Oh gosh,” I groan patting around for my phone, “Ellie’s going to think I got abducted by aliens.” Or by Cain. Even if Ellie said she would try to be nicer, I know that doesn’t mean she trusts him.
And judging by her voicemails and texts, she really doesn’t trust him. I send her a quick text, making sure to let her know my body is in fact not fertilizing a garden somewhere.
“I’m not a murderer,” Cain chuckles, reading the text over my shoulder.
“That’s good to know.” My fingers feel numb as I try to finish the rest of the text without him reading it. He still manages.
“And you had a great time. Well noted.” He shoots me a lazy grin that makes my heart flip.
My arm feels out of my control as I reach out to him and rub my thumb across his cheek. I don’t just want to see that smile—I want it to be a part of me. “Grass,” I say, even though it’s a blatant lie. My “just friends” promise is slowly fading away. I can’t help myself. Things feel different with Cain—I’m different with Cain.
“Max . . .” he murmurs, his expression hooded. He covers my hand with his and runs it across his jaw, painstakingly slow. When my palm is in front of his mouth, he presses a whisper of a kiss there. A flare of heat ignites between my thighs, something I haven’t felt since Ethan was alive.
Ethan.
A wave shatters through me like a tsunami, tearing my heart apart all over again.
Cain leaves my hand against his lips for another intense moment before he drops it. His melancholic gaze roves over me. “You’re not ready yet.”
###
Luckily, I made it back to the baby shower with just enough time to help set up the food. I also managed to avoid Ellie’s we need to talk looks—Debbie seemed to call my name or hand me a dish at every one of her attempts.
None of the Millers were home when Cain dropped me off, so I was able to escape any awkwardness. Thank God, since I was already drowning in it.
You’re not ready yet.
The words stuck with me as I got ready and all throughout the baby shower, and still haven’t gone away. I haven’t been able to concentrate on anything but the way his voice sounded, that odd look in his eyes, and the words that left me feeling defensive.
You’re not ready yet.
What does that even mean? How can he know if I’m ready or not? What exactly does he think I may or may not be ready for? Because it felt like he was about to . . . no, he wasn’t going to kiss me. He might’ve kissed my hands, but would he have kissed my lips if he thought I was ready?
Would I have wanted that? Would I have wanted to kiss someone who wasn’t Ethan? A piece of me wants to say no. I loved Ethan, and being with anyone else . . . it feels like it lessens that love. There’s a fear that I might wake up one day and realize I love someone more than I loved him.
But the majority of me wants to say yes.
Erin tilts her head and crosses her arms, resting them on her belly. “Max?” She seems more humored than miffed that I wasn’t listening to her.
“Sorry,” I apologize. I take a drink of the spiked pink lemonade I've been nursing since the party began.
“It’s okay. You look like you’re having a serious internal crisis. What aren’t you ready for?”
I blanch.
“You sort of mumbled it to yourself,” she says, in a way that leads me to believe it was louder than that.
“Now I’m embarrassed,” I admit. “So, what were you saying?”
“I’d like to go to the diner in the morning and talk to Ruth about a cake for Ellie’s bachelorette party. Zoey is coming, so we’ll have to stay strong. She desperately wants to get a penis cake, which is not what Ellie wants. It’s also not a conversation I want to have with Ruth.”
“What don’t you want to talk about?” Ellie asks. She and her mom have been deflating the balloons while I’ve been helping Erin sort through her gifts.
“Zoey’s preoccupation with penis cakes,” Erin explains. “I refuse to order one from Ruth.”
“You know you can do no wrong in Ruth’s eyes,” Ellie says.