Stealing Rose
Page 89

“I got a job. No more stealing, no more messing around. I’m an honest man now, doing an honest day’s work.” He sounds proud and I squeeze him tight before I lift my head to look up at him.
“What are you doing? For work?”
He smiles, and the sight of it takes my breath away. “You wouldn’t believe it if I told you.”
“Tell me,” I urge.
Leaning in, he drops a sweet kiss on the tip of my nose. My body immediately reacts to his chaste kiss and I tell myself to calm down. I cannot make this easy for him. He needs to explain.
And then I have some explaining to do as well.
“I work at a jewelry store. It’s in Brooklyn, a great place that’s been around forever, and they take jewelry in on trade, or they bring it in to have it reset. I’m the one who assesses the stones and intricacy of the settings and declares its value,” he explains.
I raise my brows. “Well, that sounds right up your alley.”
“It is. Cash got me the interview.” He pauses, studying me. “You met Cash, right? A couple weeks ago.”
Nodding, I bite my lower lip. “I, um, met your mother, too.”
“I know.” He pushes a few stray hairs away from my forehead. “Cash told me.”
Oh, God. This was all set up through Lily and Cash and maybe even Caden’s mom. Does he know? Does he have a clue about my condition? And if he does know, is he mad at me for keeping it from him?
“Ro, I was wrong for what I did. I shouldn’t have left you like that at the hotel back in London. I should’ve stuck it out and told you how I really felt rather than write it all in a stupid letter.” His expression is pained, and a small piece of me is thankful that he regrets his actions.
Fine, a large piece of me is thankful.
“That letter almost killed me,” I murmur softly. “It gave me hope. I thought you would come to your senses and find me when you got back here. But … you didn’t.”
“I always planned on finding you,” he says, the words pouring out of him in a rush. “I only wanted to do it right. I wanted to make sure that I was established in my new job and that I was doing the right things. That I wouldn’t disappoint you. That’s the last thing I want to do. I never wanted to let you down.”
“You never let me down until you left me like a coward.” He flinches at that comment but I push on. “I would’ve accepted you as is. I did accept you. I … I fell for you while we were together in London. How I felt about you scared me, but I didn’t care. I was going for it anyway. And then … you left.”
“Stupidest thing I could’ve ever done,” he mutters, shaking his head, looking completely traumatized.
I reach up and sink my hands in his thick, soft hair. “You cut it,” I murmur.
He smiles. “Yeah. Need to look respectable.”
“I miss it.” I stroke his hair, his eyelids wavering at my touch, and all I can think about is how fast can I get him naked.
No. Don’t think like that. Make him work for this.
“I miss you.” He lets go of me and my hands fall away from him. But then he’s touching me again, his hands cupping my face, and I grip his hips, overwhelmed at the sincerity and love I see shining in his dark eyes. “I fucked up. I know I did. I’m asking for your forgiveness. I need it. I need you. I was only trying to do the right thing and in the end I drove away the only woman I could ever love.”
My heart cracks at his words and fresh tears spring to my eyes. He’s trying to make me cry buckets, I swear. “Oh, Caden …”
He gives my head a gentle shake. “I’m serious, Ro. I’m in love with you. I love you. I’ve missed you so damn much. I should’ve come and got you sooner, but my stupid pride got in the way and I wanted to be worthy of you.”
“You were always worthy of me. You just didn’t see it,” I whisper, making him smile.
“You’ve made me the luckiest man in the world. I don’t deserve you.” I open my mouth to protest, but he cuts me off by sealing his mouth over mine in a quick, firm kiss. “It’s true. But I’m not going to deny it any longer. It doesn’t matter if I deserve you or not. I love you. I want you in my life. I fucking need you in my life, Ro. I just need to know … will you have me?”
I gape at him, overwhelmed by his words, by the love shining in his eyes. His thumbs stroke across my cheeks, making my knees weak, and I reach up, curling my fingers around his wrists so I can cling to him for dear life. “I missed you. I was so mad that you left that note. That you left me. But I forgive you for it.” I swallow hard, knowing that I have something far more important to tell him than just offering my forgiveness.
His expression is one of sweet relief. “Thank Christ,” he mutters.
Worry consumes me. What if he becomes upset at my news? What if he rejects me and our baby? I don’t know if I could ever recover from such a thing. “I love you, too,” I whisper, my throat aching. “I love you so much and … I have something I need to tell you.”
His brows lower in that way they do when he’s worried or concerned. His grip loosens on my face and his touch becomes whisper soft as his eyes search mine. “What is it?”
I press my lips together, my stomach roiling with nerves. At least it’s not nausea. I need to get this over with. Just … blurt it out. Like ripping off a Band-Aid instead of peeling it off slowly. This sort of thing is better if it’s done swiftly. Taking a deep breath, I swallow hard and say, “I’m pregnant. With your baby.”