Cara
Silence falls in Aidan's home after he leaves my room with Kitty. It's amazing he can be so rude to me and yet obviously love animals so much to foster them. I'd like to think it's because he might be more of an animal person than a people person, but unfortunately, I think the blame of his rudeness sits squarely on my shoulders.
Would we have talked and laughed and maybe had another round of hot sex before he kicked me out without getting my number?
An hour ago, I slipped into his T-shirt, unbuttoned my jeans, keeping them fastened with a hair tie I've taken to carrying on my wrist for when my jeans become too tight. If I sleep, I'll dream of Aidan and the memories of hot sex. Without fail, they come almost every night.
If I talk to him, I risk upsetting him.
"Can't sleep?" I shake my head, almost scared of how he knew I was in the kitchen at 1 am in the morning.
"You don't have any olives, do you?"
"Cravings?" I wish I could erase that stupid smirk off his stupidly hot face.
"Sort of, yeah."
"I don't think so, but I can go see if a store is open."
"Sweet, but I don't want to bother you anymore."
"Look Davis, we got to have a talk. I'll do the talking. First, the reason you're asking for olives is because that's the only thing the baby I put in you wants right now. Second, I'm pretty sure I brought you here because I said I want to keep you safe. Any questions till now?"
I shake my head, almost on the verge of tears. I hate pregnancy hormones.
"Good, glad I could help. Now, you want olives?"
"Actually...they sound like a really bad idea. I can feel my stomach rolling right now."
"Tea?"
I shake my head.
"Want a massage?"
"Really?"
"Come on, let's get you to bed."
And, I'm pretty sure...that sleep was the best sleep I've ever had.
____________________________________________
Aidan
In the kitchen, I grab crackers and 7 Up for Cara and head to her room. I've already let Kitty out more than once this morning and as soon as we came back, she trotted to Cara's doorway, and lay down across the threshold.
I've checked on her several times and she hasn't moved, but when I round the corner this time she's sitting, nose almost pressed to the door, and a tinny whine escapes her.
"What is it baby girl?" I ask.
I haven't had her long, but I'm more than amazed at how she wants to be close to Cara.
As she continues to whine and scratch the door, my steps speed. Her ears are pulled back, on alert, and I've long since learned animals know more than we think they do.
Shoving aside manners and politeness, I open the door to Cara's room expecting to see her still sleeping. Instead, her covers are thrown back and the bed is empty. The bathroom door is closed but the light is on, coming from beneath the door and eventually, so is the vivid sound of retching.
"Shit." I drop the crackers and pop on the dresser and move double-time to the bathroom, where I find Cara's hunched over the toilet.
Katty is still behind me, whining, but it's Cara who has my full attention.
I crouch behind her and gather her long, thick chocolate-colored hair in my fist.
"You're okay," I tell her.
"Oh my God. Please. Go away."
She's not currently puking but her arms are crossed over the toilet seat, her head resting on her forearms. She then reaches up and flushes, then settles back to her spot.
"What do you need, shortcake?"
"Privacy."
She moans, and I can't help but bite back a laugh. "It's not like I haven't seen it before."
"Fuck off. Don't remind me."
My hand runs up and down her back slowly, hoping to soothe her, and eventually she pushes off the toilet and rests on her heels.
"Okay?"
"Besides humiliated you've seen me puke again, yeah, I'm okay."
"Come on." I hold out my hand for her to take, and when she puts her palm in mine, I lift her to her feet. "I was bringing you a drink and crackers. Perhaps if I'd thought about it sooner, you wouldn't be here."
She turns and gives me a tired, worn-out smile. "I agree. This is totally your fault."
Not exactly what I meant, but I'll play along if it means she keeps smiling at me. "Of course it is."
I settle her on the bed. While she nibbles on a cracker, I go back to the bathroom, clean up the floor and counter, and bring her the anti nausea pills. "Have you taken this yet?"
"No. And I'm sure if I had, it'd be flushed by now."
She's barely looking at me. Stupid. She has no reason to be embarrassed around me. I've seen more of her body than she probably has. "I'll let you get ready. Is there anything you need?"
"Pants to wear at home? Have any women's yoga pants lying around?"
Her smile tells me she's teasing, but I'm not stepping on that trap. If I want to keep my dick, the answer to that question is always a big no.
"I have some sweats you can wear, they'll swim on you, though."
"That's not necessary. I can wear the jeans I had on yesterday. They're just a little uncomfortable."
"You sure?"
"Yes, but thank you."
She nibbles on another cracker and I wait until she's taken her pill and sipped her drink and she still hasn't looked at me.
Being embarrassed is one thing. Avoiding me is something else and it burns something painful in my gut.
I can chalk it up to us being mostly strangers, but I've heard enough about her over the last couple of years to get the general idea that she's pretty damn cool. And absolutely stunning. Also down-to-earth and slightly crazy.
____________________________________________
I find a rare spot of street parking and pull to a stop in front of Cara's worn-down old building. This makes no sense. She alluded to her family's wealth yesterday talking about her dad's career, but Jake has also mentioned her parents are crazy rich. And she's living in a crumbling apartment that looks barely habitable?
The question "You live here?" burns on my tongue but tastes sour in my mouth. She said it to me yesterday, and I refuse to talk to her the same way or risk throwing it back in her face.
"This is it?" I ask, taking the crappy tone out of my voice.
"Yep. Home sweet home." Her eyes glance to the top level of the five-story building and her shoulders sink, as if the thought of walking up that many stories is already daunting.
She lives in a shithole. Across the street, two homeless men are huddled in the overhang to another building's entrance. Knowing Cara lives where so many congregate settles like a rock in my stomach. She has to be careful. She's pregnant with my child.
I'm three seconds from throwing my gear shift into drive and taking her back to my place when she opens the door. "Thanks for the ride."
"Wait." I climb out and close my door at the same time she does. "Let me walk you up."
She shifts her gaze to the building and back to me, nodding. "Okay."
Finally, accepting help unwillingly but without the argument. I could get used to this. It's at least a step in the right direction.
I meet her at her side of the car, and take the small bag I gave her to carry her medicine and some extra crackers I'd insisted she bring for the short ride.
Following her to the door, I look over my shoulder and notice the attention we've received-along with my BMW-and glare at the few men eyeing us. Damn it.
Her living here makes absolutely no sense. She has to at least have some money.
"What floor do you live on?" I ask, as we take stairway after stairway. Turn after turn.
She looks at me over her shoulder. Already her healthy color from yesterday is fading.
Shit.
I move quickly, wrap her in my arms, and lift her.
Hands fly to my shoulders. "What are you doing?"
"What's it look like?" For good measure, I flash her a wink. Damn, this feels good. Other than yesterday when she was passed out, there have been more times I remember enjoying her in my arms.
"What floor?"
"Top. Fifth floor."
"Not to sound like a dick, but how have you been doing all these stairs while being so sick?"
"Slowly."
The smile she was wearing disappears and I do feel like a dick. I'm protective of her. She has my child inside of her and hell if I'm letting anything happen to either of them. The fierce need to force her back in the car and return to my place returns. There's plenty of room for both of us. I even have a spare for a baby's nursery. Hell, I'm even considering what fucking color to paint the baby's bedroom walls and I haven't touched a single wall since I moved in...when she stops me and I set her on her feet.
She opens the door and waves me in but I freeze at the threshold.
"Holy shit. Did your home got robbed?"