CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
WYNTER
“I’m telling you now,” Jenna says, piling more clothes over her arm, “pregnant women have been lied to for years.”
Lucy snorts from beside Ray. “About what?”
“That oversized sacks are flattering.” Jenna looks genuinely offended by the concept.
“If I see one more beige tent dress, I’ll commit arson.
” I laugh despite myself as she shoves another hanger into my arms. “And you,” she says, pointing dramatically at me, “have the perfect figure for fitted maternity.”
I glance down at my bump hidden underneath my baggy top. “Really?”
“Tailored clothes will show your neat little bump off. A pregnancy is a beautiful thing, and we should be showcasing it like artwork.” She’s gathered quite an array of clothes now as she steers me towards the changing room.
“Now, first of all, let’s get you out of this,” she says, plucking at my top.
I begin to strip down to my underwear whilst she hangs up the various garments.
When she turns back to me, she smiles, “See, you were hiding that under all that material and it’s perfect,” she says, before plucking a dress of a hanger and holding it towards me.
I take it cautiously. Holding it up I stare at the waistline. “This looks tiny,” I utter.
She nods, encouraging me to step into it.
As I stuff my arms into the sleeves, she tugs the material into place before stepping back.
“Wow,” is all she says, clapping her hands together and then pointing to the mirror in the corner. “See.”
I turn and inhale sharply at the sight of myself.
The dress is simple. A husky pink material that fits my shape perfectly, encasing my bump like it was made to fit me personally.
“Oh,” I whisper, rubbing a hand over my stomach.
“May I?” Jenna asks, taking my ponytail in her hands. I nod and she removes the hair band, letting my hair flow over my shoulder. “Stunning,” she comments, stepping back and allowing me a second to just stare.
“It’s so comfortable,” I say, as I turn slightly to check out the back.
“All my clothes are designed to look amazing yet feel comfortable. And, if you pair it with these,” she grabs a pair of pink and white trainers from a shelf, “it can be a casual outfit,” She then grabs a set of pink sandals. “Or these, for a little dressier.”
I nod, biting on my lower lip with uncertainty. This all looks so expensive.
“Right, are you ready to show the others?”
I swallow. I don’t know why I suddenly feel nervous. Maybe because this is the first time I’ve really looked pregnant instead of just bloated and swollen.
Or maybe because Ray is outside. And I want to see his reaction. I want to see if there’s desire behind those eyes.
The second I step out, the room goes quiet.
Lucy’s eyes widen first. “Oh wow.”
But it’s Ray’s reaction that completely steals the air from my lungs.
He stands immediately, like he doesn’t even realise he’s doing it. His eyes drag slowly over me before settling on my face again, something unreadable flickering in them.
And it’s not lust, like I half expected. Desired. But something better, more genuine. Like I’ve actually stunned him.
Heat floods my cheeks instantly. “Is it okay?” I mumble, tugging awkwardly at the fabric over my stomach.
Ray crosses the room slowly. My pulse starts hammering for absolutely no reason at all.
He stops in front of me, his gaze dropping to where my hand is resting on my bump. Then gently—so gently it almost hurts—he wraps his fingers around my wrist and lowers my hand. He takes one step back and stares again.
“You like it?” I ask carefully.
His eyes flick over me again. “Very much.” The roughness in his voice sends warmth spiralling low in my stomach.
Jenna claps her hands together. “Right. We’re buying this one.”
“Oh . . . I . . . we haven’t discussed a budget,” I say, feeling a heat creep over my cheeks.
“Yes, we’re definitely buying it,” Ray says calmly at the exact same time.
“And the shoes?” she asks.
I’m already shaking my head. “That’s way too much, Ray.”
“Whatever shoes you think will go,” he replies, holding eye contact with me.
“Both pairs?” Jenna asks.
“Yes,” he nods.
Jenna beams. “I love when rich men are cooperative.”
I step closer, looking up at him. “Ray, that’s so kind of you but––”
He places a finger over my lips. “I want to spoil the mother of my child, Wynter. Please, just let me.”
I swallow the refusal and eventually nod.
“Good girl,” he whispers against my temple. “Show me what else is in there.”
Over the next hour, Jenna has me trying on everything from soft knitted dresses to fitted jumpsuits that somehow make me look stylish instead of exhausted. She adds bags, shoes, trainers. Listing all different ways to wear one outfit for several occasions.
And the entire time, I catch Ray watching me.
Every time I step out, his eyes find me instantly. And every single time, something in his expression softens. Like he can’t quite believe I’m real.
At one point, Jenna hands me a cream dress that hugs my bump perfectly before flowing softly to my ankles. The second I step out wearing it, Ray goes completely still.
Even Lucy notices.
“Oh,” she murmurs quietly.
Ray stares at me for so long I start getting embarrassed. “What?” I ask awkwardly.
He blinks once like he’s snapping himself out of something. “That one,” he says roughly. “Definitely that one.”
Warmth blooms across my chest so intensely it almost aches. Because no one has ever looked at me the way he does right now. He’s making me feel like I’m something precious.
By the time Jenna finally declares the fitting over, there are several bags waiting by the counter.
I stop dead.
“Ray.”
He doesn’t even glance up from inputting his card number into the machine. “Hm?”
“You cannot buy all of this.”
“I already have.”
He finally looks at me then, calm and completely unbothered. “You deserve every single thing.” And he begins to collect the bags together.
Jenna quietly hands me a smaller bag, leaning closer conspiratorially. “That man is completely gone for you, by the way,” she whispers.
My entire body heats instantly. “What?”
She grins. “I’ve known Ray for years.” Her eyes flick towards him fondly. “He’s never looked at anyone the way he looks at you.”
My stomach flips violently. Because the terrifying thing is, I want him to look at me like that.
“Did you get something to wear?” Catherine asks as she slides gracefully into the chair opposite us.
Lucy and Catherine had arranged to meet for coffee, and seeing as Ray had disappeared into work for the day, I tagged along to escape staring at the apartment walls.
“Did she ever,” Lucy mutters into her cappuccino, a smug smile pulling at her lips.
I roll my eyes immediately. Ever since yesterday’s shopping trip, she’s been utterly unbearable.
“That’s great,” Catherine says warmly.
I shrug off my coat before standing slightly so they can see the dress properly. The soft cream fabric hugs my bump gently before flowing down over my legs.
Catherine gasps softly. “Oh,” she whispers, emotion thickening her voice. “You can properly see your bump now.” Warmth spreads through my chest at the look on her face. “You look beautiful, sweetheart.”
I glance down instinctively, smoothing my hands over the dress. “Honestly?” I admit quietly. “I actually feel it in this one.”
“That Jenna is a genius,” says Lucy. “She got together an entire wardrobe with everything Wynter could possibly need. And everything grows with the pregnancy with cleverly placed elastic and stretchy material.”
“She really was impressive.”
“And expensive,” Lucy adds thoughtfully. “One dress alone was about two grand.”
I groan immediately, dropping back into my chair. “Lucy, please stop reminding me.”
“She’s traumatised,” Lucy tells Catherine.
“I am.”
Catherine pats my hand gently. “There’s no reason to feel guilty. Ray’s generous by nature.” A knowing smile tugs at her lips. “And trust me, he can afford it.”
“That’s not really the point,” I mutter.
Both women look at me expectantly. I sigh. “I just don’t want him thinking I’m with him for his money.”
Lucy’s expression softens immediately.
“Oh sweetheart,” she says quietly, “that man looks at you like he’d hand you his entire bank account just for smiling at him.”
Heat floods my cheeks. “Still,” I mumble awkwardly, “I want to do something nice back.”
Lucy taps a nail thoughtfully against her coffee cup. “Then do something meaningful.”
My brow furrows. “What do you even get a man who already owns everything?”
“Not things,” Lucy says. “Something personal.”
I think about Ray for a second. “I don’t know,” I admit. “He doesn’t really . . . do hobbies, and he’s always so busy.”
Catherine leans forward slightly then, her eyes thoughtful. “What does Ray want more than anything?”
I open my mouth. Close it again. Then quietly say, “A family.”
Catherine points at me instantly. “Exactly.”
“And what did he miss out on growing up?” Catherine continues gently.
My chest tightens immediately. Love. Stability. Warmth. Normality. People choosing him. A home.
Catherine’s smile widens slowly like she can practically see the thought forming in my head. “He’s spent most of his adult life surrounded by expensive things,” Catherine says gently. “But I don’t think many people have ever done something for him just because they care.”
The words settle heavily in my chest.
Catherine reaches across the table and squeezes my hand gently. “Trust me,” she says softly. “Men like Ray don’t remember expensive gifts.” Her smile turns knowing. “They remember how someone made them feel.”
RAY
By one in the afternoon, I’ve already had three meetings, two arguments, and one accountant nearly burst into tears in my office.
So, naturally, my brain decides the only thing it can focus on is whether Wynter’s eaten lunch.
Pathetic.
I tell myself I’m only heading back to the apartment because Lucy left this morning and Wynter’s probably bored out of her mind alone. Not because I’ve spent the last hour thinking about the way she looked in that cream dress yesterday.
Definitely not because of that.
The second I step into the apartment, music hits me. It’s loud, blasting from the speakers around the apartment. It’s followed by bursts of laughter.
I stop mid-step, confused. The place is usually quiet during the day, but now some old eighties song blasts from somewhere deeper inside the apartment, mixed with Sebastian shouting lyrics completely out of tune.
Then Wynter’s laugh cuts through everything else. It’s warm and relaxed. Not something I often hear and I instantly love it. I’m drawn to it.
I follow the noise down the hallway slowly, loosening my tie as I go. The spare room door is wide open.
And when I step into the doorway, I stop completely.
The room is chaos.
Dust sheets cover the floor. Paint trays are scattered everywhere. One wall is already coated in soft cream paint while another is half finished.
Sebastian stands on a tiny ladder, painting determinedly with a brush far too big for him.
And Wynter—
Christ.
She’s in one of my old shirts with the sleeves rolled up, and the material hangs loosely over her body with tiny denim shorts underneath.
Her hair is piled messily on top of her head, and there’s paint streaked across one cheek as she dances around the room with a roller in her hand. She’s singing loudly, and there’s a huge smile on her face as she shakes her body in some kind of dance.
And I can’t remember the last time I’ve seen anything that looked more like home.
Something unfamiliar settles heavily in my chest as I stand there unnoticed, just watching them.
Watching her.
The sunlight streams through the windows, catching her flushed face as she spins around dramatically singing into the paint roller like it’s a microphone.
Sebastian nearly falls off the ladder laughing.
And I’m hit with the sudden realisation that everything I need, is in this room right now. This scene, this chaos, it’s what I never had growing up, but it’s exactly what I want Seb and my unborn child to have. A happy family.
Wynter turns suddenly, still laughing, then spots me in the doorway.
She freezes instantly. For a second, neither of us moves. Then her entire face lights up again, like she’s genuinely happy to see me. The look hits me so hard I almost forget how to breathe.
“There you are!” she says over the music.
Sebastian spins around excitedly. “Dad, we’re painting.”
“So I gathered.”
My eyes drift slowly around the room again before settling back on Wynter. “What’s all this?”
She glances around proudly before looking back at me. “I decided the baby’s room needed doing.”
Baby’s room.
Something hopeful unfurls slowly inside my chest, because for the first time since she got here, this sounds permanent, like she might just stick around.
Wynter misreads my silence instantly.
“If you hate it, we can change it,” she says quickly. “I just thought cream was neutral and calm and—”
“I love it.” The words leave me immediately.
Her expression softens. Then she grins suddenly before walking towards me. “Well good,” she says, grabbing a clean roller from the tray. “Because now you’re helping.”
Before I can protest, she presses it into my hand and grabs my wrist, dragging me fully into the room.
“I’ve never painted a wall before,” I admit. “I’m not even dressed for it.”
“You have dry cleaners for a reason,” she tells me.
Sebastian points his paintbrush at me seriously. “You have to sing too.”
“I absolutely do not.”
“You do,” Wynter says firmly. “House rules.”
“I wasn’t informed there were rules.”
“That sounds like a you problem,” Seb retorts.
I stare at both of them, trying to fight the grin as happiness swells in my chest.
Sebastian folds his arms. “If you don’t sing, you get kicked out.”
I scoff softly. “Threatening your legal guardian seems unwise.”
“Sing or leave,” Sebastian says mercilessly.
Wynter laughs beside me and something in my chest gives way completely at the sound. God help me. I’m completely gone for this woman.
The song changes again as Wynter dips her roller into the paint tray. Then she points dramatically at me when the chorus starts.
“Oh no,” I mutter.
“Oh yes.”
Sebastian starts singing loudly beside her, and despite hating my own voice, the words flow from me like I’ve been bewitched.
Wynter’s eyes immediately snap towards me in triumph.
“There he is,” she says softly.
And as she smiles at me beneath streaks of paint and afternoon sunlight, I realise something terrifying.
I don’t think I’ve ever been happier than I am in this moment.