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He pushes off the counter and steps into my space. "I told you I hate donuts, but that doesn’t mean I never eat dessert. There are way better things to put in your mouth than shitty fried dough."

He reaches out and uses his thumb to wipe a speck of ice cream off the corner of my mouth. The rough pad of his finger against my bottom lip makes my breath hitch.

I freeze, caught in a suffocating wave of pure lust. Having him standing in my kitchen feels so natural it’s a little scary. He takes up so much space, not just because he’s tall and strong but also because he’s just… him. I want him to close the last inch between us. I want him to lift me up onto the counter and remind me what he can do with that mouth.

But instead, he drops his hand and takes a step back, leaving a trail of fire on my skin.

He’s doing what I asked. He’s respecting the boundary I put up. Half of me appreciates that he's a man of his word, but the other half wants to kick my own ass for setting the rule in the first place.

"I'll let you get some sleep," he says, his voice a little rougher than it was before as he starts toward the front door.

I blink. "Wait. You’re leaving?"

He looks back at me, a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. "I just wanted to see you and make sure you ate."

I look down at the ice cream before he can see the stupid smile trying to take over my face.

“Text me when you get that appointment scheduled,” he adds.

"It’s on Thursday," I blurt out, turning around to watch the way the muscles shift in his back as he walks.

He stops with his hand on the doorknob and looks over his shoulder.

"At four," I tell him, my pulse thrumming in my ears. "At the women's clinic on Central."

He gives me the sweetest smile. "I'll be there. Sleep well, Goldie."

And then he's gone.

The house is quiet again, but the air feels different. It's lighter. Easier to breathe.

The weight of him stepping up like that leaves me… overwhelmed. I can feel him burrowing into the cracks of my life, taking root just like the plant in the corner.

And I'm terrified I won't have the strength to stop him.

At this point, I’m not even sure I want to try.

CHAPTER 17

SUMNER

Five Weeks:

Baby is approximately the size of a sesame seed.

Traffic on I-4 is a goddamn nightmare. I drum my fingers against the steering wheel of my truck, grinding my back teeth together as I stare at the bumper of the sedan idling in front of me. The Thursday afternoon briefing at the AOC ran long, and I didn't have a chance to change out of my flight suit before hauling ass toward St. Pete.

Technically, I’m not supposed to wear my blue Nomex off the base. It’s a utility uniform, and getting caught in public in it is a guaranteed way to get chewed out by the chief. But changing would've cost me another ten minutes, and I don't give a fuck about protocol today.

I'm running late. I hate being late for anything, but being late for this makes me want to punch a hole through my dashboard. Goldie's ex-boyfriend let her down, and I don’t want to remind her of him in any way. I want to be the guy who’s always there. I need to prove to her that I'm reliable, and getting stuck behind a fender bender on the bridge is fucking up my plan.

By the time I finally pull into the parking lot of the women’s clinic, my jaw aches from clenching it for so long. I throw the truck in park, cut the engine, and jog up to the glass doors.

The blast of air conditioning hits my sweat-damp skin the second I step inside. The waiting room is full of uncomfortable-looking pastel chairs and quiet music. A few women look up from their magazines, their eyes snagging on my suit and the patches on my chest and shoulders, but I ignore them and walk straight to the reception desk.

Once I give her my name and then Goldie’s, the woman behind the glass points me down a short hallway to room four.

I push the heavy door open. Goldie’s sitting on the edge of the exam table, the sanitary paper crinkling under her thighs. She’s wearing a tight, neon-pink sundress, the fabric stretched across her chest and stomach before pulling over her full hips, leaving her shoulders bare.