Page 42 of Let Me Love You
I pull away from her. “Pretty sure you don’t have a bad bone in your body, Kate. But I gotta ask, what are you so scared of? Macklin loves you. And he’s already a great dad to his daughters. I’m sure he’ll be stoked—”
“That’s just it. He will be. But will he be excited because he’sactuallyexcited, or will he pretend he’s excited because it’s how everyone expects him to react?”
Actually, the girl has a point. I know Mack would step up. Everyone who’s ever had a single conversation with the guy knows he’d step up. The guy doesn’t run from anything. Even his failed marriage only ended once his ex told him she was done.
And it’s why Kate’s scared to tell him.
Because she knows he’ll put everyone else before himself and his happiness. And when you’re with someone like that, how do you know what they truly feel versus what they’re saying they feel?
Damn.
“I’m so sorry, Kate,” I mutter, pulling her in for another hug.
Because this? This freaking sucks. And there’s nothing I can say to make it better.
She knows it.
And so do I.
13
KATE
Iset the keys on the kitchen counter, my brain sluggish yet still managing to go a million miles a minute. Not sure how it’s possible, but it’s been constant ever since my doctor’s appointment.
“Hey, babe.” Macklin stands from the couch, meets me in the kitchen, and wraps me in a hug.
I lean into him and close my eyes. “Hey.”
He starts to pull away, but I grab onto the back of his shirt to keep him close. “Not yet.”
His muscles tense for the shortest of seconds, then he squeezes me tighter. “Are you all right?”
“Mm-hmm,” I lie. “Just missed you.”
“How’d girl time go?”
“Fine. Crappy, but fine.”
“Is Ashlyn okay?” Mack’s breath kisses the crown of my head.
Man, he smells good. Like home and comfort and warmth all rolled into one.
I steal a final squeeze, then let him go and answer, “I think she will be. Eventually.”
“Good. Are you?” His eyes narrow, but I shake him off and grab his hand, guiding him to the couch.
There’s a romance novel on the cushion. He sets it on the coffee table, making space for me, and we both collapse onto the couch.
I’m worn out. Whether it’s from the pregnancy and the influx of hormones or because I’m keeping a secret that feels like it’s suffocating me, I’m not sure. But I don’t like it. That much I do know.
Desperate for a lighter topic of conversation, I let my muscles melt into the soft leather cushions and motion to the romance book. “So, how is it?”
“It’s good,” he replies. “Hazel and Miley are reading it too.”
“Is it weird? Reading spicy scenes while knowing your daughters read them too?”
Grimacing, he grabs my legs and swings them into his lap. “I like to pretend they skip those parts, but thanks for reminding me and making it weirder.”