CHAPTER FIFTY-SEVEN

GWEN’S POV

When Nolan left, I cursed myself and how precariously close I came to giving in to his touch. When I looked into his eyes and really studied them, they appeared sincere. It was almost as if he wanted more from me. What else could I read into the kiss he gave my hand? But for all I knew, my silly schoolgirl dreams were clouding the situation.

And whether he wanted something more from me or not, there was the fact that he had the potential to be cruel.

One minute, he would desperately want me, and then the next, he would be pushing me away, calling me names, acting as if I’d done something wrong simply by existing. I didn’t want to go through that anymore. When I went to bed that night, I vowed I wouldn't get caught up again.

But my willpower continued to be tested each time Nolan visited me. Sometimes, he'd come in the evenings, and sometimes, during the day when he knew I'd be home doing my online classes. I finally gave up asking him why he was there, but when he would leave, he’d ask if I still hated him and I croaked out the word “Yes” to protect myself. Each time I said it, his eyes flashed with pain, but he would say that someday, he hoped that my feelings would change.

I wanted to come right out and ask his intentions but didn't want to be humiliated to discover all his effort was simply so that we could get along when the baby came. That he didn't actually feel anything for me.

A few weeks later was the beginning of April, and while spring had officially started, it wasn’t until now that it felt like winter had broken. My dad was out at the bar with his friends when Nolan showed up carrying a bag from a toy store.

I opened the door to him, knowing it would be fruitless to try and keep him away. "Are you buying presents for the baby already?" I hadn't begun to think about creating a nursery for the baby. Luckily, there was an extra bedroom in the house, although I needed to clean it from its use as a storage room.

He shook his head. "Nope. This is for you." He handed me the bag as he shrugged off his coat and hung it on one of the pegs in the hall.

I used the handles to pull the bag open wider and looked in. "Trivial Pursuit?"

"I thought maybe for once you can beat me up in a game instead of with your words."

Inwardly, I winced because I was frequently snarky and curt with him, but that was only to help keep my distance, or more accurately, hoping that by behaving that way, he'd stay away.

Resolved that he was going to spend the evening with me, I carried the game into the living room. As he set it up, I went to the kitchen and got him a beer and myself a glass of milk.

"You really are a glutton for punishment. You know that?" I set his beer in front of him on the coffee table.

He flashed me a grin that I felt all the way to the bottom of my heart. "I know, but at least tonight, it will be related to your kicking my ass with trivia."

He was right. I kicked his ass. But that wasn't what made me enjoy it. It wasn't what brought up the concern that I was losing the battle to keep him at a distance. What affected me were his responses to my answers. I not only got the questions right, but I was often able to elaborate on them, explain the greater context of the topic. When I did, he looked at me in awe.

I finally beat him six pies to four. He laughed as he shook his head. "Well, at least I'm improving. I got four pies this time."

I started to put the game away, wishing that he would leave while at the same time hoping he didn't. That was how I knew I was in trouble.

"What did you ever do with the piece of art that I got you?" He took the final drink of his beer.

"It's hanging in my room."

He had a look of relief.

"Did you think that I threw it out?"

He gave me a shrug. "It crossed my mind. I hoped that maybe you sold it, though."

It never occurred to me that the artwork was worth something.

"Can I see it?"

"You don't believe me?"

"I believe you. I just want to see it again. I want to see it with you when you're not pissed off at me."

I wasn’t pissed, and for a moment, I thought about what my answer was going to be tonight when he asked me if I still hated him. Being with him like this was making it harder and harder to hold onto my anger.

I led him to my room, thinking it was no big deal since he had been there before when I came home from the hospital. But as we entered my room and he stood next to me looking at the art piece on the wall, my room felt very small. He felt very close.

He backed up a bit, hitting the edge of my bed and sitting down. His hand clasped around mine and tugged, bringing me down to sit next to him. My heart ached with yearning while at the same time, warning bells clanged in my head.

"Do you like it?" he asked.

"You know I do. I wouldn't have kept it if I didn't like it so much."

He looked at me for a moment. "Meaning you liked it more than you hated me?"

I turned my attention back to the painting, not wanting to confirm his statement. He let out a sigh and turned his gaze back to the painting as well. For a moment, he just stared at it. "Have you shown it to April?"

"Yes. Sometimes, when she comes over to study, we work here. She likes it too."

He gave a short nod. "She didn’t go with me to the gallery the night I saw this. In fact, we haven't been to a gallery together in a long time."

I wondered what he was getting at. "Did something happen between you and April?"

"I don't think so. But she's back to being totally consumed by Cole." He looked at me again. "It feels almost obsessive. Do you think I'm overreacting?"

I see-sawed my head, not quite sure how to answer. As a parent, he was probably overly worried, but he wasn't wrong that April was spending more and more of her time around Cole.

"I think that's what happens when people are in love. Everything becomes about the other."

His head swiveled toward me again. "It does, doesn't it?" Something in his eyes told me that his words held more meaning. But I was too afraid to believe them. He couldn't possibly be saying that all this time that he spent with me was because he was in love with me. If that was the case, why not just say so? So perhaps he was talking about the baby. There was definitely an all-consuming love where the baby was concerned.

"I'm just worried about her. There's something about Cole that strikes me as off,” he said.

I hadn't seen Cole since New Year's Eve. He had always struck me as somebody who was trying to move and shake in the right circles. Someone who was striving for money and power. But I remembered a few times, April saying things that suggested that Cole was getting involved with the wrong crowd. When I asked her to elaborate, she'd always wave the concern away. She told me she was reading too much into the situation and everything was fine. I started to tell Nolan that but then considered that maybe he and I shouldn't be talking about April in the same way that April and I never talked about him.

"April is smart. If there's something off about him, she’ll deal with it. But my guess is she won’t appreciate us talking about her."

His brows rose, conceding my point. "Do you and April talk about me?"

"No."

He let out a long sigh. "It's probably because you don't want to tell her that you hate me. And because she doesn't want to hear it."

I didn't answer because that was the truth. Or at least it had been.