Chapter 34
Grayson
We lie there in bed for what feels like hours, basking in the afterglow of our lovemaking.
That's exactly what it was.
Lovemaking.
I don't think I've ever experienced anything so intimate or profound. Tasting each other, holding each other—the connection went deeper than our bodies. It felt like our souls had touched, merged, become something greater than either of us alone.
That's officially the corniest thought I've ever had in my life. Who the hell are you, Grayson Wolfe?
I chuckle at myself and feel Jenna stir beside me, her hair tickling my chest. When I glance down and meet her big green eyes, the soft glow in them melts away my self-mockery.
What the hell. I'm in love. I'm allowed to be a little corny.
Her hand drifts over my chest, fingers tracing across my sternum. I catch her hand and guide it higher, pressing her palm over my heart.
I want her to feel how hard it beats for her.
A part of her still doesn't believe this is real. Maybe she thinks it's all some grand scheme—a manipulation to protect my CEO seat. I hope, deep down, she realizes I'd never lie about something this important.
Sure, it's only been a few months—weeks, really. I've never fallen this fast before.
Then again, I've never met anyone like Jenna. I've never felt such instant connection. Even with Marina—much as I loved her—our feelings took time to grow.
With Jenna, from the first moment, it felt like we'd known each other forever.
I've never believed in soulmates, but something about her feels…
familiar. I know her quirks, her rhythms, her moods.
I can predict when she'll roll her eyes or break into that soft laugh.
I know that when she rubs the back of her neck, she's getting tired, and when she tosses her head from side to side, she's psyching herself up to push through it anyway.
Sometimes she wants to rest but won't let herself, so I have to step in, usually by annoying her until she gives in.
It's strange how I already know her as well as I know myself, yet every new detail about her still excites me.
What else could this be but love?
I've tried every logical explanation and eliminated them all. I'm a rational man, and there are three things I'm certain of right now:
I love Jenna. She's mine. I'll do anything to keep her.
I should probably be furious about losing my CEO role, but I'm surprised by how little I care. It's almost liberating, realizing I no longer carry that weight.
As strange as it sounds, I'm content. I should be losing my mind, but instead I'm at peace—lying here with the woman of my dreams in my arms.
Then I feel her stiffen. Tension ripples through her muscles, undoing the calm of a moment ago. Something's wrong.
"I… need to tell you something," she says quietly.
"What about?" I ask.
She takes a breath and sits up, slipping from my hold.
I reach for her hand, not ready to let go completely.
Her face is troubled. I brush my fingers against her cheek, hoping to calm her, to show her that whatever it is, she's safe with me. There's nothing she could tell me now that would change how I feel.
"Go ahead," I tell her gently. "Whatever it is, just say it."
I expect some confession about her past, or maybe that she thinks things are moving too fast—that she's not ready for love yet.
I could handle that. I'd wait as long as it took, because I know I can make her fall in love with me completely.
She's already halfway there, and I'm not letting her go. Not now. Not ever.
"I'm pregnant."
For a second, I don't even register the words. I'm still half lost in the play of moonlight across her skin, tracing lazy circles on her palm with my thumb.
Then her words sink in. I freeze and meet her eyes.
"What did you say?"
"I…" She takes another breath, steadying herself. "I found out the other day—when your mom came to see me at my office. I found out that morning."
It takes a moment to process.
"How… why…?" My throat goes dry. I sit up too, as if sitting upright will somehow help me think. "You didn't tell me."
"I wanted to," she says quickly, "but I thought you'd be mad."
"Mad?" I echo. "Why would I be mad?"
"Because I'm pretty sure it happened the first time—in your office." Her voice trembles. "Do you remember what you told me after we… after we slept together?"
"Vaguely."
Shame rushes through me. I remember saying something cruel—that she should "take care of any complications." Cold. Brutal.
God, I was such a dick.
Where did I get off telling her something like that when I was the one who forgot to wrap up?
It wasn't even anger at her—it was shame. Shame that she'd made me lose control so completely I forgot the basics.
"Yeah," she says quietly. "I took the morning-after pill afterward, but I guess it didn't work, because… I ended up pregnant anyway."
"Oh," I manage. My voice sounds strange to my own ears. "That's… fine. Totally fine."
"No, it's not." Her tone carries more hurt than fear.
My brain is buzzing like a neon light with a faulty wire. Everything feels off, unfocused. I reach out and take her hand because it's her reaction I care about most.
"Do you not want to be pregnant?" I ask carefully.
"I don't know," she admits. "It's just… it's not a good time. I have so much left to do. I don't have time for a baby, and who even knows if I'd be a good mom?"
"You'll be an incredible mom," I tell her. "You don't have to keep it if you don't want to—but whether or not you'd be good at it? That's not even in question. You'd be amazing."
She gives a shy, uncertain smile, eyes dropping to her hands. "I don't know."
"Why do you think you wouldn't be?"
She hesitates. "I mean… what if your mother has a point?"
I stare at her. "Are you serious? Did something happen to you in the last hour? Did you just ask me if my mother was right?"
She giggles softly. "Okay, maybe not about everything. But what if, because I'm so focused on my job, I neglect my kid and it grows up resenting me for it?"
"The fact that you're even worried about that proves it won't happen. You're ambitious, sure, but never at the expense of people you care about. I see how you treat your team, your parents. You show up for them even when you're busy. What makes you think you'd be any different with your own child?"
"I don't know," she murmurs again.
"Besides," I add gently, "it's not just on you. I'm the kid's parent too, and I'm not going to be some deadbeat who writes checks and disappears to work. I'll be there—really there. I want to be involved."
Her gaze softens, but she studies her fingers again.
"Do you not want kids?" I ask.
"Maybe. Someday," she says slowly. "If I found the right person and wasn't so busy. But right now…" She trails off.
"Right now?" I prompt.
"I… just don't know."
I nod, taking that in. It makes sense. "Then just know—whatever you decide, I'm with you. All in."
"Thanks." She lets out a shaky breath, the tension easing from her shoulders. "I've been so worried about telling you. I know I should've done it sooner, and I'm sorry. I just thought you'd be mad. I thought it might be… the end of us."
"And that mattered to you?"
She nods, eyes flicking away. Seeing it, hope stirs in my chest. Maybe she really does love me—maybe she just hasn't admitted it yet, even to herself.
"What about you?" she asks softly. "How do you feel about it? It's your child too."
I smile faintly. "Do you really want to know?"
"Yes."
"I'm not going to tell you."
She blinks. "Why not?"
"Because you have to decide first. I don't want you making a decision just to please me. That wouldn't be fair. You choose what's right for you—then I'll tell you what I think."
Inside, though, I can't stop the images forming in my head: Jenna, me, and a tiny girl with her eyes and her stubborn little smile—sass and sweetness rolled into one. I'd spoil her rotten.
Or maybe it would be a boy. I imagine teaching him to ride a bike, shooting hoops together, watching him grow strong and confident.
Either way, it doesn't matter.
But it all depends on what Jenna wants. Her happiness comes first. If she chooses not to keep it, I'll accept that. I have to.
Like her, I was never sure about fatherhood. It always seemed like something meant for "later," for when I found the right person.
When Marina and I fell apart, I buried the thought entirely—threw myself into work and never looked back.
But now, hearing the word pregnant in Jenna's voice, I can't help the flicker of excitement inside me.
Still, I keep it buried. She needs space to decide for herself.
"All you need to know," I tell her quietly, "is that I'll support you—no matter what."
She leans in and kisses my cheek. "You're a great guy, you know that?"
"I do."
She laughs, rolling her eyes. "Cocky."
"Always."
She shoves me playfully, and I grab her hand, pulling her down with me. Her laughter fills the room again, light and full of relief.
For the first time since she spoke those words—I'm pregnant—it feels like we're breathing the same air again.
The next day is Saturday, and partly to give Jenna some private space and time to think, I head over to visit my sister.
The other reason is that she's been acting off lately, and I want to make sure she's okay.
She's the only one in my family I actually feel close to, maybe because we're the closest in age.
I came first, she arrived a year later, and George didn't show up until six years after her.
Steph answers the door looking irritated, still in pajamas, her hair a wild mess despite it being well past noon.
"What do you want… deserter?"
"Deserter?"
"Yeah. You left me to deal with our crazy family all by myself."
"Good morning to you, too."
She grunts and turns, padding back into her condo—an expensive chaos of clothes, shopping bags, and random clutter everywhere.
"Someone went on a bender," I remark.