Page 39 of The Rebound
He turns to leave, and when the door closes behind him, I feel like curling into a ball and crying, and I don’t even know why. Saint and I are friends, and I just pushed him away because of my own fears and insecurities.
Sometimes, I really hate these overactive pregnancy hormones. I have no idea if I made the right decision by confronting him, or if I just blew up the one good thing in my life.
• • •
The next morning, I’m heading out to go downstairs to check my mail, but am surprised to see a pink pastry box on the floor in front of my door. When I carry it inside and open it, I find it’s another cake. This time, the loopy script on top of it reads,I’M REALLY, REALLY SORRY.
I can’t help but laugh. The cake is beautiful with thick vanilla buttercream, and it smells like lemons. I inhale andthen grab my phone to text Saint.
You’re forgiven.
He replies a second later.
You sure? Just like that?
Yes. I’m the one who should be sorry. I shouldn’thave judged your past.
It’s all good. And for the record, threesomes aren’t as fun as you’d think. So many elbows.
I roll my eyes.Gross.Before I can come up with a response, Saint texts again.
Sorry. Am I still forgiven?
I laugh because this conversation is ridiculous.
Yes. But stop sending me cake. I’m going to get fat.
You’re perfect. Now go eat your cake. I’ll talk to you later, okay? I’m going to the gym with the guys.
Okay. :)
12
SAINT
I’m not sure what I thought being “just friends” would look like, or what the hell I was thinking when I suggested it. All I know is that I’m a damn fool for slamming the friendship brakes on a relationship with a woman like Kinley.
Not that I had much choice in the matter. When it comes to having Kinley in my life or losing her for good, I’d make the same decision a thousand times over.
But that doesn’t mean I’m not gonna pretend like this whole situation doesn’t completely suck. If the tabloids were still up my ass like they were earlier this year, the top headline would read something humiliating like:
Defenseman FRIEND-ZONED by Captain’s Sister—How Far Will He Bend Over Backward?
I’m as whipped as a guy can get without actually getting any ass. Exhibit A, I’m helping Kinley around the condo today, setting up the crib and painting the nursery walls. And since I never arrive empty-handed, I brought her favorite takeout.
Our new friendship boundaries are kind of strict now that we’ve agreed to no late-night romantic dinners, so a late-afternoon lunch standing around the kitchen island will have to do. It doesn’t hurt that I scored her trademark floodlight smile in return, making all my inner turmoil seem worth it.
While Kinley rattles off her to-do list for today, I nod along and make mental notes to also help out in other ways not listed. Like putting new batteries in the lagging analog clock on her kitchen wall, and taking out the trash before I leave.
As much as I want to be the guy who jumps in bed with Kinley—which I do want very, very much—I’d rather be useful. I’m not just some dick-brained sleazeball who’s only spending time with her to get in her pants.
I want to prove that to her. And to myself.
Speaking of pants, mine are uncomfortably tight at the most inopportune times. Looking at Kinley. Brushing fingers with Kinley. Smelling Kinley when the draft from the open window floats the scent of her fruity shampoo toward me, damn near assaulting my unsuspecting senses.
I’m doing my damnedest to focus on the platonic aspects of our relationship. The jokes, the teamwork, the casual conversation ... things I could share with anyone. But with my dick half-hard and crammed up against my zipper at all times, the most innocent glance from her feels like she’s stripping me naked with her eyes. Or maybe I’m the one stripping her naked withmyeyes. Either way, sex is never very far from my brain.
And here’s the thing—Kinley is undeniably pregnant. Since I met her, her belly has grown twice the size, from round bump to full-on cantaloupe. She looks like she could pop at any second. I know for a fact that would send most guys running for the hills.
