Page 2 of The Baby Bargain
He did.
"Ariel…" Apology drips into his voice. "I hate doing this."
"Your parents?" They emigrated here when he was a baby. They're traditional. At first, they hated that he was dating a white girl. But they softened when I asked them to teach me to cook. Which took a million years. I'm so hopeless in the kitchen.
"They love you." He squeezes my hand. "They want this."
"You told them?"
"I wouldn't—"
"You're the only one—" I suck a breath through my teeth, but it's too shallow to calm me.
"I know."
"You can't—"
"I won't."
"Seriously, Phil, if Forest or Holden finds out." I am going to tell my brothers. And my dad. And my friends. Eventually.
"They'll support you. Like always."
Something catches in my eye. Something salty and hot. Fuck, it stings. Why does it sting like this?
"Sweetie—" Phillip reaches for my cheek—with his other hand. His fingers brush my skin. He catches a tear on his thumb.
I'm crying.
That isn't okay. Not here. Not now.
I haven't cried over it yet.
I don't cry over anything but Mom.
Another tear catches on my lashes. Then another.
I blink and my eyes are full of them. The room gets blurry. Like when I take off my glasses.
The same fucking glasses as Phillip. We always joke about how we dress the same—thick black frames, black jeans, black tops. Why waste time deciding what to wear? There are puzzles to solve, PhDs to complete, undergrads to teach.
"Ariel." He says my name the way he always does. Like he loves me. Like he wants the best for me. Like he's promising he'll be by my side forever.
"Are you scared?"
"Not like that." He stresses the last word, so I know he's not scared about the disease that killed my mother. He's not scared of losing me. He's scared of keeping me.
"Like what?" I pull my hands free. Finally. But they do a terrible job wiping my eyes.
I can't cry here. That's why he picked this place. Not because I love Italian food. Not because it's soft and romantic. Because it'snice.
It's not the kind of place where you throw a fit over a breakup.
Which is ridiculous. I've never thrown a fit. In three years, I've always—
We're calm, even people. We don't throw fits. Why would I start now?
"I hate this as much you do." He sets his hands in my lap. "I love you, Ariel. I don't want to leave."
