Page 260 of Show Me

My hand drifts unconsciously to my stomach. A slow breath leaves me.

“It’s okay,” I whisper, though I’m not sure whether I’m talking to the baby… or myself.

The truth settles. Lindsey lied. She wanted me to believe Xavier would leave, that he wasn’t capable of loving anyone long enough to stay.

I believed her. Not because she convinced me. Because I was already afraid it was true.

But every day since then.... He’s done exactly the opposite. Fed my pigs. Rebuilt my kitchen. Slept on my couch. Held my hair while I threw up. Researched pregnancy symptoms in the middle of the night.

He showed up. Again. And again. And again. Not because he had to. Because he chose to. He never proved he wanted us with one grand gesture. He proved it a hundred ordinary ways.

“He’s all in.” The words come out, so I barely hear them myself.

When I open my eyes again.... I’m smiling. Because, for the first time since everything fell apart.... I believe him. Really believe him.

Before I can think myself out of it, I pull my phone from my pocket and press on his name.

He answers before the second ring. “Hey.”

“I...” I hadn’t planned what I was going to say.

“I’m on my way.”

The line goes dead. I stare at my phone and shake my head. “Of course you are.”

I slip the phone into my pocket and glance toward the driveway. Five minutes. Maybe six. It should take longer, but this is Xavier. It won’t.

This time, I don’t question if he’ll come. I know he will.

Chapter One Hundred Forty-Five

Ruby

Four minutes. I glance from my watch to the driveway as a familiar pickup turns onto the gravel. A laugh escapes before I can stop it. “Four minutes.”

Ridiculous. Ridiculous that it only took him that long. And it’s ridiculous that I know him that well and still questioned him for so long.

The truck barely rolls to a stop before Xavier climbs out. He spots me standing on the porch and hesitates. Not for long. Just enough to know he's trying to read me before he does anything.

He stops at the bottom of the steps while shoving his hands in his pockets. “Hey.”

“Hey.” I lean against the doorframe. “You made it here in four minutes.”

His brow furrows. “You called.”

Like that explains everything. Honestly, it does. I step back and pull the door open wider. “You coming in?”

“Yeah.” He slips past me, pausing inside while I close the door behind us. The house settles into silence. No television. No dishes. Just the soft hum of the refrigerator.

Neither of us says anything. He’s waiting for me to tell him why I called, waiting to find out if this conversation ends with another apology from him. Or another goodbye from me.

He adjusts his stance. “I’ve been thinking about what happened at–“

“Stop.” I raise my hand with my palm facing him.

He stops. Mid-sentence. Mid-breath. His eyes search mine.

I fold my arms loosely, studying him. “You don’t have to keep doing that.”