Total pages in book: 151
Estimated words: 142976 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 715(@200wpm)___ 572(@250wpm)___ 477(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 142976 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 715(@200wpm)___ 572(@250wpm)___ 477(@300wpm)
The stuttered offer was so tentative that Fern wasn’t entirely sure how to take it.
He still found it so hard to even say the word baby that it was hard for her to believe that the offer was sincere.
“I’m sure I’ll manage,” she replied, her voice colder and curter than she’d intended. She felt immediate regret when his expression shuttered and he retreated. His emotional retreat palpable enough to leave Fern with an irrational ache of loneliness as a result.
“Right, of course,” he said, voice so bitter the words practically curdled as they left his mouth. The smile that had been flirting on the edges of his lips, along with the warm light in his eyes had both faded completely and he was quite determinedly not meeting her gaze.
He seemed almost… well, he seemed hurt and Fern fiddled restlessly with her new bracelet as she watched him closely. It was the first real indication he’d ever shown that he may want to take an interest in the baby and she’d thoughtlessly rejected the tentative overture.
It had been a knee jerk, defensive response.
“I know I can manage, Cade,” she said again, gentling her tone, and then offered, absolutely terrified of being shot down, “But, if you want to spend time with the baby while I’m busy studying, I wouldn’t mind.”
His eyes jerked up to meet hers, his face going slack with an interesting mix of terror, panic, and relief.
“I don’t really know much about babies,” he muttered, panic adding a high note to his voice.
“Neither do I, but I’m confident I’ll learn as I go along.”
“Are you? How… how can you be so sure.”
“I’m not,” she confessed with a grin, allowing her own fear and uncertainty to show. “But I live in hope.”
Some of the warmth crept back into his eyes and he allowed the smallest of smiles to settle on his lips.
“I’m certain you’ll be a wonderful mother, Fern,” he offered, his low voice intense.
Fern swallowed painfully, not entirely sure how to respond to the absolute certainty she heard in his voice.
“We should get changed,” she told him brusquely, keen to shatter the intimacy of the moment and change the subject.
The soft warmth in his gaze gradually dissipated and he stared at her in confusion.
“Get changed? For what?”
She rolled her eyes.
“Didn’t Mitch remind you? Your father arrived today. We have that welcome dinner at Beth and Gideon’s, remember?”
“Fuck,” he intoned in a low voice and pinched the bridge of his nose. “That’s tonight?”
“That’s an hour from now,” she clarified.
He scrubbed his hands over his face and sighed.
“Right. I’d better get to it then.” The loose relaxation of just a moment ago had all but disappeared to be replaced with obvious reluctance and tension.
“What’s wrong?” she asked.
“I’m not... great with family events.”
“You were fine at the last one,” she pointed out. Although, come to think of it, he had kept himself slightly separate from his siblings that afternoon. And then there had been all that strange awkwardness over his name.
She nibbled on her top lip—considering the wisdom of opening up that particular can of worms again— and his gaze sharpened on her mouth with the intensity of a hawk homing in on a rabbit. The probing stare unsettled her so much that she said the first thing that popped into her brain, which—unfortunately—happened to be the subject she’d seconds ago decided not to broach.
“Does this have anything to do with the Niall slash Cade thing?”
His jaw tightened and she braced herself.
Ugh, here we go again.
“There is no Niall slash Cade thing.” His tone was a lot milder than she’d been expecting.
She chewed the inside of her cheek.
“If you say so.”
“I do.”
“I don’t believe you, though.” Aargh, why did her mouth randomly decide to just spew out things without her permission like that? It was really annoying.
“I can’t control what you choose to believe,” he said with a careless shrug. “Just please—for the love of God—do not bring it up in front of my father tonight.”
She was going to let it go, honestly she was, but that comment only fueled her curiosity further.
“Why not?” she asked, then dramatically squeezed her eyes shut and—with her palms up and in a breathless, pleading voice—added, “Please-don’t-be-cross-with-me-I’m-just-trying-to-understand-you-better.”
Nothing.
Just a drawn-out silence that had her opening one eye tentatively to search his face.
He was staring at her in amusement, that soft, warm glow back in his eyes.
“You’re trying to understand me better?” he repeated, he sounded… odd and his voice wobbled on question. Maybe that’s what was odd, the wholly out of character uncertainty she could hear in his deep, velvety voice.
She opened her other eye and dropped her hands and smiled at him, hoping he could see her sincerity in that smile.
“Of course, I am, Cade,” she replied softly.
“But why?”
“When you’re shipwrecked on a deserted island with only one other person, it’s in your best interests to get to understand each other’s strengths and weaknesses. Don’t you agree? How else will we know how to allocate which task to whom?”