I shove the idea from my head. Makes me feel too warm and squishy inside.

I do not do warm, and I especially don’t do squishy. Unless Bryce is in the room. Then all bets are off.

“You know that in romance, villains usually don’t help out. They definitely don’t do dishes.”

Fuck, I’m smiling.

I’m gripped by the wild thought that I’d just have to lean down to kiss her. On the mouth this time. Tilt my head and go in for the kill.

“What do they usually do?”

“Break hearts.”

And just like that, the spell is shattered. Reality crashing through the happy haze of the moment.

Bound to happen anyway. Doing one woman one favor doesn’t erase the very bad things I’ve done to others.

I finish the dishes in silence. When the dishwasher is loaded and the table wiped down, Julia leads me to the front door.

“Thanks again for dinner,” she says. “I really enjoyed it.”

I manage a tight smile in reply. Shove my hands in my pockets. I know I need to keep my distance. But there is no way in hell I’m letting this woman deal with this pregnancy alone now that I know how difficult it’s been.

“Let’s check in with each other more often, okay?” I say. “I won’t bother you too much, but I do want to know how you’re doing.”

She looks at me. I look back.

“Okay,” she says.

“And you come to me if you need anything, all right? Even if it’s just a resupply of Topo Chico.”

“Got it.”

“I want you to mean that.”

“I do. I’ll keep in touch.”

She’s still looking at me.

I’m still looking at her.

Get. The fuck. Out of here.

But my feet won’t move.

The space between Julia and I thrums. Tightens, somehow, despite the bubble of feels expanding inside my torso.

Before I know what she’s doing, Julia’s going up on her tiptoes and curling her arms around my neck.

I stay very still, trying my damndest to ignore the fireworks exploding in my groin, my chest, my head.

She feels so good against me.

So damn good. Soft and vulnerable and warm.

“This pregnancy thing is hard. And very heavy,” she murmurs against my shoulder. “But you’ve made it feel lighter for a little while. Which helps. More than you know. Thank you, Greyson.”

Carefully—carefully, one or both of us will break if I move too fast, or squeeze too hard—I curl my arms around her waist. Close my eyes as I let myself hold her.

Just for a minute, I tell myself.

Just for right now.

Her hair tickles my nose. I resist the urge to inhale a deep lungful of her. Scent and sweetness.

My body electrifies at the feel of hers.

I like this.

This, whatever this is. The satisfaction of knowing I did a good thing?

The knowledge that she’s trusting me—touching me—making me feel alive in a way I haven’t in a long, long time?