Page 106 of The Trouble with Flings

I nod. “I’ll try.”

“Good, because I’m worth it.” He flashes a cocky grin that’s soft around the edges. “I wanted to talk with you about something else. I know your mom wants to stay with you to help with the baby, and I love that for both you and the baby, but I don’t want to miss that time with you and the baby, either. I want to be there to take care of both of you, to bond with our little bean in those early days. All the parenting books say it’s crucial, so I was hoping you’d consider staying here after the baby’s born.”

“Here? I won’t have any of my things, and—”

“I’ll get everything you and the baby need. We can do that together before the baby’s born. But I want to be there to help with midnight feedings and diaper changes. I want to rub your feet or your back or whatever you need. And you don’t have a room for your mom to stay in.”

“The couch pulls out to a bed,” I say lamely.

“That’s great, but it’s going to feel very crowded once you’ve got a baby and all the baby paraphernalia. And what if you need a C-section or if there’s another complication? Three flights of stairs? Even with a regular birth, that’s going to be tricky. You’re going to need to rest and recover.”

He lowers his voice. “I’m not saying you have to move in here permanently. I’m just asking you to allow me to share in the first few weeks to take care of you and the baby alongside your parents. They can stay here with us. Hell, bring your whole family. It’s gorgeous here in September and still warm enough to walk along the beach and avoid the exhaust fumes and noise of the city.”

My eyes tear up again, and I fan my face. “Why do you have to do this?”

“Care?” He looks genuinely bewildered.

I shake my head. “Think of everything and make so much sense.”

“Does that mean you’ll let me have this?”

“Yes. I’d never deprive you of that.”

“Good girl,” he says low and seductive.

His words are like Pavlov’s bell, and just like that my body comes alive.

He leans in and kisses me. “Feel better?”

“Mildly,” I tease. “Between my hormones and you, I don’t know if I’m coming or going. Could you please stop being so damn perfect? It’s really annoying.”

“I’m not perfect.”

I roll my eyes. “You’re ten steps ahead all the time. Even in Costa Rica you thought of everything before I was even awake. It’s like caretaking or being a great partner is your kink.”

He waggles his brows.

“It would be easier to believe you’re not a figment of my imagination if you’d screw up sometimes.”

“As I said, I’m not perfect.”

I give him a deadpan look.

“You want examples? I can’t blow bubbles with chewing gum, and I suck at singing.”

“I’m being serious.”

“So am I. Ask my sisters. They say I look like a giraffe when I try to blow a bubble, and my whole family runs the other way when I sing.”

I laugh.

“I’m not perfect, wild girl, but I want things to be as perfect as possible for you and Little Bean. Speaking of our baby, I want to talk to you about one more thing.”

“Ohmygod. Are you trying to stress me out?” I’m only half teasing.

“You’re right. Forget it. We can talk another time.”

“No. Just say it. It’s more stressful to leave it hanging.”