Not once did I let it slip, did I get too caught up in the passion with Nathan—not that there was a whole lot of passion—and let him have sex with me without a condom.

But twice I’d done it with Rowan, without complaint, with full awareness of what it meant.

“If you want to do that, you can,” Rowan said, eyes on me. “But if it fucks up your body in any way, if you’re not comfortable with it, don’t want you doin’ it.”

I took a long swallow of my wine. “I don’t particularly like it,” I said honestly. “But… I like it when you fuck me without a condom.”

His jaw tightened, and I watched his Adam’s apple move as he visibly swallowed. “Fuck, if I love it more than anything in this world.”

Silence descended between us.

“I’ll pull out,” he decided.

“The show Teen Mom exists because of men believing in the pull-out method,” I snickered, although I wasn’t joking.

He didn’t break eye contact as he shrugged.

Shrugged.

The man I’d been seeing less than a month didn’t seem at all perturbed by the possibility of getting me pregnant.

That was a red flag. Indicating that I was supposed to pump the brakes. That I was supposed to create space.

It should’ve had me feeling uneasy, uncomfortable. Not warm and safe.

But it did.

So, I didn’t run. Didn’t pump the brakes.

I just sat there, drinking my wine, watching him cook.

We didn’t revisit the subject. Nor did he wear a condom when he fucked me on the kitchen counter after dinner.

Chapter Seventeen

Recipe: Oatmeal Cookies

From ‘Dessert Person’

It wasn’t the ringing that wrenched me out of sleep. Not then. When I slept better than I had… ever. It was lucky I didn’t need an alarm to wake up when I did because I would’ve slept right through it. I woke because Rowan’s arms were no longer wrapped around me, his warm body no longer pressed against mine. He was speaking low. Barely above a whisper.

“Fuck,” he muttered. “Yeah, no, thanks, Finn. I’ll be right there.”

I blinked into the darkness, the light coming from his phone illuminating his shape.

“What’s going on?” I mumbled sleepily.

Rowan put the phone down and came back to me in bed, kissing my head. “Kip’s had too much to drink. Got into some shit. He needs a ride home.”

“I’ll come with you,” I said, trying to get my bearings, sleep still clutching me. My stomach throbbed at the movement, something I noted despite still being half asleep.

“No,” he countered softly. “You have to get up in a couple of hours. Go back to sleep. I’ll be back soon.”

I wanted to argue with him, but I was sleepy. And I did have to get up in a few hours—though he needed to as well since he had established a routine of coming to the bakery with me.

“Come back soon,” I muttered, already sinking back into sleep.