Chapter One #2
He stayed silent, continuing the perusal of my face like he was searching for imperfections. One brow arched as his gaze went from scorching to scowling.
“I realize you blocked off my day for whatever you think is important, but I don’t have time for this.”
“You’re right. You don’t.” The harshness of his tone surprised me. Regardless of the day-to-day complications of this job, he’d always treated me with respect, and dare I imagine, adoration.
We worked so well together. His harshness balanced my softness, but he’d never used that tone. I revered our working relationship, and my current predicament spoke of how well other aspects of our relationship worked.
“Then, whatever issue has arisen, I trust you to handle it. We’ve already established that,” I said, picking up the pen again in what I hoped would be a clear dismissal.
“You would think.”
“Yes. I would because, like I said, I trust your judgment, Avery.” I’d aimed for indifference, but it came across more as constipation with the way I felt my face squinch as he continued to stare. “Is there anything else you need from me?”
“Yes.”
I knocked the pen I’d laid on the notepad to the floor, frustrated he couldn’t tell that our conversation had ended, before blindly reaching for another without a top and splattering blue ink on my fingertips.
“What else could we possibly have to discuss, then?” I asked, grabbing a tissue from my top drawer, which only smeared the blue ink across my knuckles instead of wiping it off. The useless tissue got tossed in the trash, and I finally gave up and met his eyes.
The first word that popped into my head described them perfectly— blazing. They were their own energy source, with heat coursing through them, and brighter than a supernova—and the entirety of that blaze was focused on me.
“Oh, I don’t know, Jordan. Why don’t you tell me?” he hissed, leaning forward and clenching one fist on the edge of my desk.
I took in every detail of that hand, from the neatly trimmed nails to the light dusting of hair across his knuckles. I knew what that hand was capable of and knew how that hand felt against my skin. My cheeks heated, and I shook my head, causing my hair to escape from behind my ears and cascade around my face. If only my long locks could obscure my features long enough for the blush to dissipate, but luck hadn’t been on my side for some time.
Dread inched up my spine, and I felt my scalp tingle with goose bumps. There was no way he knew. Sure, Morgan knew I was pregnant, so by default, Royce did too, and they knew Avery, but they didn’t know he was the father. Maybe I wasn’t as inconspicuous as I originally thought and had become a hot topic of watercooler discussion around the office.
I’d been meticulous with my outfits, opting for flowy dresses and tunics, and staying behind my desk as much as possible. I was the first in the conference room and always tried to be the last to leave.
“What are you talking?—”
“Really? Fine then,” he interrupted, removing his fist and leaning back in the chair. He spread his legs wide and rested his palms on his knees. I did the opposite, scooting closer to my desk until my belly rested against the underside of the light gray, driftwood colored furniture.
“I’ve had the strangest forty-eight hours. Do you have any idea what I could have discovered?”
My panic grew as my left foot tapped violently underneath my desk.
“I don’t know where you’re going with this, and I don’t appreciate your tone,” I answered, focusing on an ink smudge on my index finger. I needed the distraction to keep my hands from inadvertently drifting to my protruding belly in desperate need of carbohydrates and refined sugar. The fetus demanded a sacrifice of butter, and I would not deny the little plum anything.
“Well, you see, I was in the office yesterday, updating the contract for Jesse Granger. I got him down to seven percent and had him approve the book cover, by the way. You’re welcome.” He paused and arched a brow, like he expected me to press my hand to my heart, then jump up and down with gratitude.
Cocky. Arrogant. Infuriating. Brilliant. Handsome. Idiot.
He did deserve praise—and I was damn lucky to have him, but I could do without the added indigestion that came with the holier-than-thou attitude. I could have taken the time to finalize the Granger deal, but Avery insisted that my focus needed to remain on the big picture and let him deal with the day-to-day details. Did he really expect me to be giddy with joy that he did his job?
“After I dealt with Granger and sent the final proof to our graphic design team, I planned to begin work on the manuscripts the team had recommended.”
“Yes. Your various degrees have been beneficial with reading and recommending what we’d be interested in printing.”
“Yes. I’m aware. So, there I was, Jordan, just past the intriguing and enticing incident when I received a notification that our weekly meeting had been pushed to the late afternoon because of a certain important appointment on your calendar.”
Fuckkkkkk. Fuck.
Suddenly, the most crucial thing in the world was getting the ink smudge off my finger. I rubbed the digit, focusing so hard my eyes burned with the need to blink. A glance at his face showed a silent, radiating fury, enough for me to force my attention back to the ink.
“Do you know what appointment I saw on your calendar? What I could have possibly noticed that sent my blood pressure skyrocketing and my pulse racing?”
I opened my mouth, but the words caught in my throat. Of the million situations I’d imagined where we sat down and had an honest conversation about our impending parenthood, never had I imagined that he’d find out this way.
“Avery—”
A pathetic, squeaky whine spilled from my lips, born from my fear of public speaking, and something I thought I squashed in grad school. I shook my head, biting the inside of my cheek until I tasted copper. A wave of nausea swept over me the moment the blood touched my taste buds, and I swallowed harshly, willing the tea to stay where it was.
Avery hadn’t noticed my turmoil, and for that, I was thankful. Not only did I not want him to see weakness, but I also had no desire to allow this man to see how much his words affected me—how much he affected me.
“No ideas yet? Then let me continue, boss. I saw a prenatal appointment on your calendar—briefly—of course, because it switched to a pedicure five minutes later. I guess that explains your wardrobe choices lately.”
His gaze drifted to my outfit, and I self-consciously looked down at the oversized, flowy dress I’d chosen this morning—milk silk cotton in a deep burgundy with tiny green ivy leaves along the edges. This dress was one of those I’m on my period or don’t feel my best, so at least I’ll be comfortable ones. Maybe it wasn’t the best choice for a professional environment, but with the constant morning sickness, fatigue, and brain fuzziness, I refused to second guess my choice. I could show up to the office wearing a burlap sack and it wouldn’t diminish my ability to run a successful business. My respect and general attractiveness, sure, but not how much I could keep this business in the black.
But attire and sex appeal were the least of my worries; I knew I was genuinely screwed as I watched him narrow his eyes and purse his lips, barely suppressing some intense emotion I couldn’t decipher. Fear. Anxiety. Hope? Perhaps an unhealthy mix of a thousand different feelings, resulting in my inability to confirm or deny his suspicions.
“Avery. Please. I?—”
“But the interesting thing about this appointment, was it distinctly said Baby Bailey/Tibbs. And since I only have a sister, the logical conclusion is that you’re pregnant with my child, Jordan. With. My. Child.”
He enunciated each word with a thump of his fist on the edge of my desk, while I remained helplessly frozen with wide eyes and a deepening grimace.
My neck prickled with heat, and I rubbed it, finding the skin damp at my hairline. Avery clearly was in the wrong profession. He should be a secret agent, MI6 operative, detective, investigator, or something similar who belonged to an organization made up of only letters and black suits. The cool way he delivered that forgone conclusion proved he’d be an asset to be coveted.
“This wasn’t supposed to happen. I’m so sorry, Avery.” My voice cracked, and I pressed my ink smeared hand against my chest, willing the tears to stay away until he let out his anger and left me alone. If my mental fortitude could hold on for a little longer, I’d give into the desperate need to throw my almost empty teacup across the room and then ugly cry for an undetermined amount of time.
“Really? Tell me, then. What wasn’t supposed to happen? You being pregnant, or your carelessness with your daily calendar.”
The way he delivered those words had me feeling one inch tall—like a child being scolded for taking a second cookie. How could I explain the unrestrained fear I’d felt since that first test was positive? How could I tell him that at three in the morning when my mind wouldn’t settle and my hands wrapped around my belly, all I wanted was to share that moment with him?
“Both. Neither. I don’t know what you want me to say.” I released the stranglehold I had on the arms of my chair and let them drift to my stomach, realizing there would be no more denying the truth. “Why did you block off my calendar for the day?”
“Oh. That’s an easy one. To ensure that we had ample time to discuss the implications of you being pregnant with my child and not bothering to share that life-changing bit of news.”
The volume of his voice remained the same, but the declaration—putting the parentage out in the open—was deafening. I didn’t know what to say. My notecards with bullet points backed by facts and statistics were at home, safely under my pillow, where I reviewed them each night before falling into a restless sleep that left me with dark circles under my eyes each morning and a persistent ache in my lower back.
It was strangely comforting, knowing my withholding of information was out in the open. The ball of tension and stress lodged behind my breastbone slowly untangled, bleeding into quiet acceptance. The silence stretched on as I waited for his verdict—maybe this was what people meant when they spoke about feeling entirely at peace before death.
I felt prepared for whatever verbal blow he’d rain down, knowing I’d easily forgive any hurtful words.
All the times I’d run through the conversation, it always revolved around me telling him, not the other way around, and his reaction was always between jubilation and straight denial. The absolute silence caught me unprepared, but then again, I never imagined being caught in—not a lie—but a concealment of the truth.
I thought I was too smart to get caught.
“Don’t worry,” I whispered, staring at my hands where they wrapped protectively around my stomach. “I won’t let this mistake tie you down. I know how seriously you’ve been considering your future career, and being stuck with me will only limit your options. You don’t need to be involved.”
When my brain refused to quiet, and I went over his potential reactions, I’d usually picture Avery jumping to his feet so fast the chair behind him would crash to the floor before he yelled that my statement was out of the question. That he’d be damned if he thought I would raise his child without him.
But this creaking silence, as I dared to glance at his face, watching as he gripped the leather armrests and narrowed his eyes, made me thankful my stomach was empty because the decaffeinated dirt water was gurgling dangerously.
“Is that how you want to handle our so-called mistake? Me walking away from the both of you? Perhaps getting a job in another state or even another country? Going about my life like there wasn’t something missing, and only seeing you and our child whenever I come into town to visit my parents? To have that baby grow up knowing me as nothing more than some random guy who shows up from time to time with insincere words and expensive presents?”
I licked my lips and parted them, relaxing my jaw and fully prepared to utter yes—before I paused, not entirely sure what I wanted. My lists and spreadsheets were supremely unhelpful in assisting me with my next sentence. I snapped my jaw closed, frowning in my emotionally heightened state.
“Maybe you’d rather I cut all ties and disappear completely, never seeing either of you again. Is that why you waited so long to tell me?”
How could I form a rational answer when my brain was sluggish as quicksand and my heart threatened to break through my ribcage with the intensity of its rhythm?
“I don’t know what I want, but I know I’d never want to tie you to a situation you have no desire to be in.” My voice got quieter, and by the end of the declaration, it was barely a murmur. I chanced another peek at him, only to see his mouth open and close. Once. Twice. Then a third, like this normally eloquently spoken man couldn’t find the words he needed.
Perhaps I’d taken them right out of his mouth, saving him the trouble of hastily made excuses.
“Jordan. I want to be—would like to be—involved, that is.”
What?
I processed his words, searching his face and hearing the sincerity in his voice, hoping beyond hope he meant it.
“With the baby?” I asked, barely able to believe that finally, I wouldn’t have to face this alone. Visions of doubt had haunted me for so long that his acceptance did little to curb my doubt.
“Yes. Of course, with the baby. And the pregnancy. All of it. I don’t want to be left in the dark anymore.” His expression shifted to something else I couldn’t decipher, and I glanced at my hand, realizing I’d ripped my pinky nail to shreds while we danced around the awkward as fuck conversation.
“I’m still not sure what made me the angriest—your blatant disregard, even though this pregnancy affects me too, or the way these last weeks have left me feeling so utterly powerless because I knew something was wrong with you, but didn’t know what it was or how to fix it.”
He ran a hand through his hair, messing up the artfully styled locks before leaning back and sighing. The temptation to shy away from him by pushing my chair backward from the desk disappeared as he smiled, shaking his head.
“You’re taking this better than I thought,” I said, still suspicious of the situation.
He leaned across the desk, placed his elbows on the edge, and pinned me with a look so full of desperate longing, I had to move my hands back to the armrests to keep myself from crawling across the desk and into his lap.
“Yes. Well.” He chuckled, scratching his cleanly shaven cheek before trying unsuccessfully to fix his hair. “I’ve had the last thirty hours to muddle my way through a gin-induced stupor until I realized this mild inconvenience is exactly what I needed to reevaluate my priorities.”
“Okay,” I said, stretching out the word and allowing a feeling of warmth to spread throughout my body, knowing with almost certainty that my doubt in him had been severely misplaced. “And your priorities?—”
“Remain unchanged,” he said, waving me off like he wasn’t dancing around the elephant in the room and talking in convoluted riddles. He wanted to be involved, but his priorities remained the same—traveling the world until he found a career that held his attention and put his various degrees to good use.
How could I have been so blind? Thinking the man I once promised to marry would return my feelings?
Enough of the self-deprivation. My day had already been torn to shreds, and now I had to focus on making it through until this evening. Breakdowns were for after work hours. Then, eating ice cream from the container while soaking in a tub filled with Epson salt and rose oil was a perfectly acceptable way to end the day.
“Well. Thank you, dear assistant, for that riveting explanation. But if there’s nothing else...”
I stood, braced my hand on my lower back, and groaned. The lack of food had caused a pulsing, pounding headache radiating from my right temple—and I had to pee again. He needed to leave, and I pointed to the door in what I hoped was finality as my shoulders slumped and I closed my eyes. “Goodbye, Avery. Close the door on the way out, please, and note that I’ll no longer need my entire afternoon blocked off.”
I breathed through my nose, holding the oxygen in my lungs and counting to three when a firm hand pressed against my lower back. The hand was warm and hard, digging into the tightened muscles until I let out a strangled moan of pleasure.
“I’m not going anywhere,” he said, pushing my hair away from my neck to stand behind me.
He gently guided my shoulders further down so he could continue to massage my spine, dragging his fingers across the tired and tightened muscles. “I’m pissed it took you so long to tell me, but I know you do things on your own timetable, regardless of what others think. Like I said, my priorities have not changed. They remain the same as they were the day I walked into your office.”
My head spun, wondering what he meant. Luckily, I didn’t have to wait long, as his arms slid to my waist and wrapped around tightly before pulling me against him.
“You, Jordan. My priority is you.”
I shook my head, unsure if the emotion lodged in my throat was relief or nausea as he trailed his fingertips over my skin. My breath hitched, and I stumbled, making him still his movements to steady me.
“There is one thing that needs to happen, though.”
“What’s that?” I braced one palm on his thigh, and after a moment, his fingers continued their dance slowly across my skin. It felt too good—he felt too good—and I let my mind wander to that blissful space where all my problems seemed obsolete.
Until he leaned down, brushing his lips across my earlobe and whispered, “You’ll have to marry me, Jordan Bailey.”