Chapter 39 #2
We both go quiet. Her head rests on my chest, skin warm against mine.
Out of nowhere, Mya says, “Do you want kids?”
I glance down at her, caught off guard. “Kids?”
Her cheeks flush. “I mean… more kids.”
I take a slow breath, thinking it over. “Honestly? I didn’t think so. Not for a long time, at least.” I pause. “But if I ever find the right person… yeah, probably.” I tilt my head, meeting her eyes. “You?”
She nods softly. “Same. With the right person.”
I grin. “Wait. Are you trying to tell me something? You pregnant, Mya?”
She smacks my chest, laughing. “No! But we’ve never actually talked about it, and we’ve been having unprotected sex.”
I blink. “Damn. That’s true.” I rub a hand over my face, half-laughing. “Guess I’ve been too caught up in you to even think about that.”
Mya shrugs, a small smile playing on her lips. “I’m on the patch, and I track my cycle pretty closely.”
“Good to know,” I murmur, pressing a kiss to her hair. “I wouldn’t be mad, you know?”
“About what?”
“If you were pregnant.”
“Worth…”
“I know,” I say quickly, running a hand down her back. “I know our marriage isn’t real. But you’ve seen how I am with Brianna.” I meet her gaze. “I’d be the same with our kid too.”
Her lips part, but she doesn’t say anything. The silence that follows isn’t awkward—it’s heavy with so many unspoken things. And somewhere in the middle of it, I know.
I’m falling for her.
Somewhere between our fake vows and real disagreements, between every laugh Mya’s pulled out of me, and every night she’s spent in my arms, I stopped pretending.
The thought should terrify me. Hell, it does. Falling for her wasn’t part of the plan. None of this was.
After a few minutes of quiet, Mya shifts beside me and sits up, the sheet sliding down her back. She glances over her shoulder, an almost shy smile curving her lips before she murmurs, “I’m gonna shower.”
I nod, even though part of me wants to follow her. I want to keep her close a little longer.
But after what just passed between us—after everything I just realized—we both deserve a moment to breathe.
So I stay where I am, watching her disappear into the bathroom.
The smell of coffee reaches me before I even make it down the stairs.
Mya is already in the kitchen, hair tied up in one of those messy knots she somehow makes look intentional, wearing one of my old W.H.M. sweatshirts that practically swallows her whole.
For a second, I just stand there, one hand on the banister, watching her move around my kitchen like she’s been doing it for years. The light catches her curls, her bare legs, the soft curve of her smile when she hums under her breath.
“Hi,” I say finally, coming up behind her.
She startles. “Hey! You scared me.”
“Sorry, baby. Didn’t mean to.” I kiss her forehead before moving toward the coffee pot and pour a cup.
“You don’t have to call me ‘baby’ when we’re home. No one’s watching.”
I try to mask the tug in my chest. “I know. I just figured if I keep saying it, it’ll start to feel natural. More believable.”
It’s a lie.
The truth is, I like calling her that. I like the way her cheeks flush every damn time I do. But I can’t tell her that, not when she still reminds herself this thing between us is pretend.
Mya nods, looking down, her fingers fidgeting with the edge of the counter. “You’re right. Appearances.”
I catch the quick flash of disappointment before she hides it behind a smile.
And it hits me again just how deep I’m in, because the last thing I ever want to do is make her look like that.
“What are you doing in here, anyway?” I ask, glancing at the ingredients on the counter.
“Brianna has a field trip today,” she says, reaching for a bowl of fruit. “I wanted to pack her lunch before she left.”
“You don’t have to do that. She’s old enough to do it herself.”
Mya shrugs, slicing an apple. “I wanted to.”
I take a slow sip, watching her. “You’re spoiling her.”
She smirks. “Takes one to know one.”
Since moving in, Mya has taken her role in Brianna’s life seriously, more than I ever expected her to.
She helps with homework, remembers the little things, listens when Bri talks about her friends or some show she’s obsessed with.
It’s subtle, but I see the positive changes in my daughter, and it warms me in a way I don’t have words for.
I just hope Bri doesn’t get too attached, because when this arrangement ends, I don’t know what it’ll do to her—to either of us.
Still, as I watch Mya tuck the apple slices into a lunch container, humming under her breath, the hope I try to bury creeps up anyway.
I hope she doesn’t leave.
I hope she falls for me the same way I’ve already fallen for her.
And that maybe, she’ll decide to stay.
Brianna comes downstairs a few minutes later, backpack slung over one shoulder and hair in a braid. She grabs the lunch from Mya, hugs her, and then hugs me. “Bye, guys!”
When the door closes behind her, Mya leans against the counter, holding her mug in both hands. “You’ve got a good kid.”
“I know,” I say softly. “Sometimes I still can’t believe she’s mine.”
“She’s a lot like you.”
I lift a brow. “Stubborn?”
“Strong,” she corrects. “And careful with her heart.”
I swallow the lump that rises in my throat and set my mug down.
Knowing that Mya sees me does something to me I can’t explain.
Mya must feel it too because she suddenly looks down, fiddling with the rim of her cup.
“You should eat something. You’ve got a long day ahead.”
Instead of answering, I take a step closer. Then another.
Her breath catches, her back pressing lightly against the counter.
“Worth…”
“Hmm?”
“This is a bad idea,” she whispers, though her voice betrays her.
“So you always say.” My hand finds her jaw. “But we’ve had worse ones.”
Her lips part, and I lower my head, close enough to feel the warmth of her breath.
Footsteps thunder on the porch just before the door swings open and Brianna’s voice calls, “I forgot my phone!”
We jump apart like teenagers caught doing something we shouldn’t.
Mya spins, pretending to wipe the counter while I grab my coffee as if it’s suddenly the most interesting thing in the room.
Brianna darts in, grabs her phone, and eyes us suspiciously. “Why do you guys look so weird?”
Mya forces a laugh. “We don’t!”
“Uh huh,” Brianna says, grinning as she walks out again.
When the door shuts, Mya turns to me, cheeks pink. “See? Bad idea.”
“Maybe,” I say, unable to stop my smirk, “but it would’ve been a good one, right up until she walked in.”
Mya rolls her eyes and tosses a napkin at me, but I see the small smile she’s trying to hide.