Coming Clean by C. L. Parker Read Free Book Online Page B

helpless.
    So I made my mind up. Shaw and I were going to need to settle this thing once and for all. Because I didn’t know how much longer I could go on living this way. I had to know if his feelings for me had changed, and I knew if I wanted an answer that was genuine, I’d have to see his words, not hear them.
    —
    The next morning, I left Abe sleeping in his room to be sure I caught Shaw before he could leave for work. Usually, I never heard him in the mornings because I hadn’t been spending the nights in our bedroom for quite some time. What had seemed comforting to both Abe and me when he was a baby, allowing him to fall asleep in my arms, had turned out to be a big mistake. Now that he was used to sleeping with me, it was hard to break the habit. Since Shaw and I had been less than intimate, I figured it didn’t matter. But I missed snuggling into the crook of Shaw’s arm and nuzzling his chest as I slept. I missed falling asleep to his steady breathing and the sound of his heartbeat, and I missed waking to his manly scent. I missed a lot of things about Shaw.
    And I hated having conversations like the one I felt forced to have with him first thing in the morning. It would just make the rest of the day as crappy as crappy could be. I had no choice, though. This had to be done.
    Just as I walked into our bedroom, I caught the sight of Shaw’s back as he closed the bathroom door behind him. So I sat on the edge of the bed and waited for him to finish up his morning business.
    The covers were still a mess, though only on one side. His side. I took comfort in the fact my pillow was out of place and at an angle to Shaw’s side, squished in the middle as if he’d been snuggling it all night. I wondered if he had. If he’d held it as close as he would’ve liked to have held me, if he ever drew deep breaths with it to his nose to find some faint remembrance of my scent.
    Drawn by that thought, I reached over and grabbed up his pillow, hugging it to my chest and doing the same. It smelled like him, and memories bombarded me. Memories of the way we used to be, of lying in bed with each other until the last possible second. Memories of Shaw resting his head on my chest while talking to our unborn child through my very round belly, his horrendous singing voice quietly crooning lullabies he didn’t quite know all the words to. I smiled to myself, nearly transported back to that time and feeling the warm and fuzzies all over again.
    When the toilet flushed, I quickly put his pillow back in place and collected myself. Or attempted to. My palms were too sweaty, my body too tense for any sort of confidence to be believable. Why was I so apprehensive about talking to the man I loved?
    Shifting into a more comfortable position on the bed, I did my best to not let any nervousness show on my face. Jesus, this shouldn’t be this hard to do. I supposed somewhere in my subconscious mind, I knew things might not go the way I was hoping.
    Red flag, red flag, red flag!
    And then the shower started up.
Oh, come on!
He’d just showered last night before bed. A glance at the alarm clock kicked my determination into overdrive. Shaw would be leaving soon if he had any chance of making a punctual appearance at Striker. Though actually, he was the boss now and on a salary income, so it wasn’t like he was punching the time clock. I’d used that argument on many occasions, but he’d always countered it with the whole “leading by example” stance. Excuses: he always had a slew of them.
    Not this morning.
    Steeling my nerves, I walked into the bathroom, determined to get some things off my chest before he could shut me down.
    “Shaw?” I called to him through the shower door.
    “Cassidy? What are you doing up so early?” Though the design of the shower door skewed the details of his body, I could still make out that he was washing up.
    “I need to talk to you, so I left Abe sleeping—”
    “What?” he asked, still not pausing