The next morning, she woke up slowly to find herself alone again. Emotional, almost teary, she lay in bed and just rested. Morgan used to wake her up in the most wonderful of ways, especially on weekends, but now… she rolled over, realized it was after ten already, and groaned. She never slept in. No wonder he wasn’t here with her. Eight was late for him. If they were snuggling, maybe nine, but for her to not wake up at ten, no way.
She could hear him walking around the house doing chores. She yawned. They’d already organized the chores they’d do today. Morgan was better than her in cleaning up. He could run a vacuum and do dishes, and he was a wizard at laundry. She, on the other hand, was a slug.
She hated to do any of it and so did it as fast as she could to get it done.
While she was still resting in bed, Morgan came in, a huge hamper of laundry in his arms.
“Ha look, sleepyhead is awake.”
“Not quite,” she mumbled, still lying flat under the covers.
He laughed. “Well, hopefully you got some rest. I did let you sleep in.” He waggled his eyebrows in a comical manner, making her smile.
Then he upended the clean laundry on the bed and her.
“But now that you’re awake, you can help fold.” He grinned at her mischievously. “And I’ll grab some coffee.”
“Only if you bring me a cup,” she groused good-naturedly. By the time he returned, she was sitting up and matching socks together. “We have too much laundry for just two of us,” she said, motioning to the heap on the bed.
“Yeah, but I did go around and grab stuff that needed to be washed so we could have it all done. This is several loads, including your stuff.”
Another yawn escaped. Then she froze. Her stuff? Her pants?
Her face flushed with heat as she remembered what she’d had hidden in her pocket. Had he found it? She’d planned to take a second test this morning but wasn’t going to do it with him here.
Then she saw him grab a pair of her pants and fold them. Her heart in her throat, she bit her lower lip as he went through the motions. He didn’t check the pocket because it was already turned out. He carefully put them back in.
Shit.
Had he seen the pregnancy test stick? Would he recognize it if he had? She hoped not. He was very aware of things like that, but hopefully he hadn’t seen her pants. She looked around the room, hoping she’d find where she’d dropped them last night.
He caught her glance and seemed to realize what she was looking for. He rummaged through the laundry and pulled out her jeans, dropping them on top of the pile.
“Hope there wasn’t anything in the pockets. I might have forgotten to check these ones.” She held her breath as he shoved his fingers into the left one first.
She held out her hand. “Here, I’ll do that.”
“It’s not a problem.”
Panicked that he might check the second pocket, she grabbed up his pants and teased. “So I can check your pockets? After all, looks like you forgot to turn these ones out before you washed them, too.”
And froze at the look on his face.
Dismay. Shock. Panic.
“No, don’t do that,” he said urgently. “I’ll check my own pockets.”
She swallowed hard. Shit. What had just happened? She locked her gaze on his. What could he possibly have in his pocket that he didn’t want her to see? She gave a broken laugh. She certainly had something in her pocket that she didn’t want him to see.
Is this what their life had come to? Secrets hidden in their pockets?
She slumped against the headboard, tears in her eyes. Given what her secret was, she needed to know what his was. It would impact her future and her baby’s future in a big way. Was she up for this? Today?
“Don’t cry. It’s okay.”
She shook her head wildly. “How can it be? You don’t want me to check your pockets, and I don’t want you to check mine.”
*
Morgan stared down at her jeans in his hands. He’d not intended to start anything, but apparently when he’d checked the first pocket, she’d gone after his jeans to throw him off. Or at least that’s how it appeared to him.
He sank slowly on the bed, fear snaking through him. What could she be hiding? He could see the item wasn’t big. The space was too small for much and it didn’t bulge like a large object. He hadn’t checked it before throwing it in the laundry, which he normally did. Then when folding, he automatically shoved the pockets back in. He’d been doing laundry that way since his mother first taught him.
He hadn’t meant to pry any more than he’d meant to leave the beautiful sapphire engagement ring in his pocket. Last night had been a flurry of clothes stripping, a repeat of so many nights with her. He was blessed. She wanted him as much as he wanted her.
They were a perfect match.
So why were they sitting here staring at each other as if across a huge divide? Him with his heart in his throat and her with tears rolling down her face?
The worst would be if she’d cheated on him. What could be in the pocket that would show such a thing? A guy’s phone number? He wouldn’t know the relationship – for all he knew, it could be a client.
No, this wasn’t about the items in the pockets, it was about trust. He trusted her. If he was wrong, life as he knew it was over for him anyway.
He couldn’t let this go. He needed her to know how he felt. If she found the ring and turned him down, he wasn’t going to make it anyways. Life without her… no.
It was now or never.
If this was it, then they both needed to know. He took a deep breath and jumped across the divide.
“First, you need to know that I love you,” he said calmly. “And that I trust you.”
The tears rolled faster on her cheeks.
“And that I don’t care what is in your pocket. Or what is in my pocket. I want you to open mine and take out what is in there.”
She shook her head. “No, that’s not fair.”
“Not fair, or you don’t want me to do the same for your pocket?”
The tears poured. Shit.
He moved closer and reached for his jeans now crumpled in her lap. She slumped against the headboard, a sheet over her bare skin, big fat tears rolling down her cheeks.
“Stop, you’ll make yourself sick, honey.”
“Look. I don’t care what’s in your pocket.” His alarm was growing over her reaction. She’d been upset over something last night, too. His mind kept going to horrible things, his gaze sliding back to her jeans to see if his guess could be correct. Had she received a terrible medical diagnosis? A full-size sheet of paper couldn’t fit in that tiny pocket, could it? Surely he’d have noticed when he threw them in the washing machine.
Only he’d been distracted. Damn it to hell.
He tugged her into his arms, grateful when she came without resisting.
“It can’t be that bad and whatever it is, we are better off knowing so we can deal with it.” He rubbed her shoulders, grateful to see that the deluge of tears was slowing. “Right?”
She nodded, took a ragged breath, and sat up. She lifted her swollen, red-rimmed eyes his way. “If nothing else, we need to know.”
“You’re right. We do.”