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“Fuck,” I mutter. “I’m sorry.”
She blinks up at me, but I’ve taken it too far and she doesn’t even offer up forgiveness.
I turn around and leave. I don’t slam the door, but my fingers ache with the effort not to.
I arrow to the front door of the clubhouse. There are too many people, too many chances for judgement inside.
I nearly spin around and walk away when I step into the garage and find Kid and Hound inside. Legend is in there as well, but I know I can tell him to fuck off and leave me alone without any repercussions. The other two men are supervisors, and also men I have full respect for.
Despite the audience, I can’t help the hands that scrape through my hair or the anxious energy making me pace around the room.
“What the fuck happened?” Legend asks from the other side of the room as if he knows getting close to me right now would be dangerous.
“I kissed my wife!” I bellow, my eyes wide and unfocused.
Kid’s chuckle is the first sound to reach my ears, and I look in their direction. Legend looks confused, and Hound is just shaking his head like he could’ve predicted this moment down to the second.
“And I take it she’s a bad kisser or something? Why would you marry her if she’s a bad kisser, man?”
I glare at Legend. “What?”
“What, what?” he asks, growing more confused.
“He’s never kissed her,” Kid says, slapping him on the back.
“What?” Legend’s eyes swing to mine. “You knocked her up without kissing her? What kind of man—wait. You haven’t—I mean I know the kid isn’t—”
“Careful,” Hound warns, taking a step away from Legend like he can also predict I’m about to rip his head off.
“I just thought that you had… you know… to make the story more believable.”
“You thought wrong,” I mutter, his ignorance somehow calming me down a little. It gives me something else to focus on.
Hound is the first to approach me, and I don’t know what to make of the grin on his face. “Good luck with everything, son, but you better get back inside, or the wives and girlfriends are going to swarm her.”
I rush out of the garage, feeling like a complete ass for walking away in the first place, but I just keep fucking up. There’s only so much clemency the woman is going to allow before she’s had too much.
I nod at those who smile at me when I enter, tell those with concern on their faces that everything is fine, and I’m hoping as I enter the hallway that I’m not lying.
She’s still sitting on the bed when I enter the bedroom, her small hand pressed to her lips like I just kissed her seconds ago instead of minutes.
“I’m so sor—”
“I liked it,” she says before I get through my full apology.
“I thought I crossed a line. You gasped, I took it to mean that you—”
My words fade away as I watch her trail one finger over her lips. “Did you feel it? That jolt? Like electricity.” She blinks up at me, her tears from earlier long gone. “Did you feel the butterflies? Here?”
She presses her free hand to her belly.
“That wave of jitters?” I nod. “Yeah, I felt it. It’s chemistry. Attraction. Need.”
I swallow, my mouth suddenly dry.
“I’ve never felt it before. Have you?”
I shake my head. “Never like that.”
Her eyes are locked on my lips, and as much as that revs me up, I guess it’s better than her noticing the problem growing south.
“I don’t want you to be upset about the gifts,” I say as a distraction, because I’m thinking of so much more than kissing right now.
“You must think I’m crazy.”
I shrug. “A little, but you’re beautiful, so it evens out.”
She scoffs. “I’ve just never been around generous people.”
“You’re going to have to get used to it, April. These aren’t the type of people to see you uncomfortable with kindness and back off. They only double down and do more until you’re desensitized from it.”
“I can’t repay them, Nate.” She looks devastated again.
“And they don’t expect you to. But they are going to grow extremely concerned that they hurt your feelings somehow if we don’t go back out there.” She doesn’t get up from the edge of the bed. “Or they’re going to think we’re already seconds away from divorce.”
Chapter 17
April
No one makes a big deal about running out of the room when we head back into the living room. No one approaches with faux concern, asking me if I’m okay or what made me run to the room to begin with. They also aren’t exactly subtle while talking to others around the room. I feel their eyes on me, their attention pointed my direction despite looking like they’re busy doing other things.
I feel like I’m under a microscope right now, or at a circus with everyone holding their breaths while wondering if I’m going to do a trick or something.
