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...☤...
𝟐𝟕 | 𝐋𝐨𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐌𝐲 𝐑𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐢𝐨𝐧
PRESENT, SEATTLE
𝐅𝐞𝐛𝐫𝐮𝐚𝐫𝐲 𝟐𝟎𝟎𝟔
"How about breakfast?"
I pull my hair out of my jacket as I walk across the parking lot, the chill of the morning air nipping at my cheeks.
"Can't. I have a shift."
A firm hand grabs my arm, pulling me flush against a broad chest. I sigh, looking up into piercing blue eyes that spark with mischief and something deeper. His gaze always leaves me breathless.
"Coffee?" His voice is a soft rumble, filled with a warmth that seeps into my bones.
I lean in, rising on my toes, bringing our faces closer.
Our noses touch lightly, and his hand slides to the back of my neck, his fingers warm and firm, sending a shiver down my spine. As our lips finally meet, a spark ignites, electric and intense, spreading warmth through my entire body. I melt into his embrace, his kiss growing deeper and more urgent. I respond eagerly, my eyes closing as I surrender to the moment. Everything else disappears, leaving only the feeling of him, the connection between us, making the world around us vanish into the background.
He pulls back, resting his forehead against mine. "Is that a yes?"
I nod, opening my eyes to meet his intense gaze. "Uh-huh."
Mark grabs my hand and leads me towards my car. I hand him the keys and wait by the passenger side as he unlocks the car and opens the door for me. I smile in thanks and slip into the seat, the familiar scent of the car mingling with his cologne.
"When is your shift over?" Mark asks, pulling onto the street and away from my apartment.
"Midnight," I answer, glancing at him.
He grabs my hand, intertwining his fingers with mine, gently squeezing them. I look out the window, watching as cars blur past and clouds cover the sky, blocking the sun in typical Seattle weather that I am slowly getting used to.
I miss Mark, and I am happy he decided to spend the weekend in Seattle with me. I need to tell him about the baby, but I just don't know how. We never defined our relationship, whether we were a couple or not; we were just dating. I know that a baby will change everything, but how much, I am not sure. Every time I open my mouth to tell Mark that I am pregnant, the words get caught in the back of my throat.
We park, and I grab Mark's hand as he leads me to a coffee truck a few blocks from the hospital.
"Bone dry cappuccino and iced caramel latte," he orders, his voice carrying a hint of amusement as he catches me eyeing the pastries.
