CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE #2
“There you go again,” she says, shaking her head. “Deciding what I think. What I want.”
I stand too quickly. “I get it now.”
“Get what?”
“Earlier. Harrods.” Shame crawls low in my stomach. “I understand why you walked out.”
Her arms fold across her chest protectively. “Do you?”
“Yes.” I force myself to hold her gaze. “I should’ve included you more. You’re the baby’s mother.”
Her laugh is soft and disbelieving. “More?” she repeats. “Ray, I felt like a surrogate following you around while you picked out your perfect life.” Her words feel like a punch. “So, why did you do it?” she asks quietly.
I open my mouth, but nothing comes out. Because I don’t actually know how to explain something I’ve spent my entire life doing.
“I don’t know,” I admit eventually. Her eyes close briefly in frustration before she turns for the door. “Wait—”
She stills, her hand resting against the handle. The thought of her walking away again feels unbearable. We can’t keep doing this to each other.
“Because I’m not used to it,” I admit.
Slowly, she looks back at me.
“I do everything alone,” I continue, quieter now. “I always have.” I let out a slow breath, staring past her for a second before dragging my eyes back to hers. “I make the decisions. I fix the problems. I pay for everything. That’s just . . .” I shrug helplessly. “How I survive.”
She doesn’t interrupt, and more importantly, she doesn’t leave, so I keep going.
“When I was a kid, if I stopped paying attention for one second, everything fell apart.” My jaw tightens slightly at the memory. “And every time I trusted someone else to handle things . . .” I look down briefly, my chest feeling strangely tight. “I got hurt.”
A heavy silence follows my words. It’s heavy, choking me. I drag a hand over the back of my neck, suddenly feeling stupid for saying any of this out loud.
“So, now, I control everything before it has the chance to go wrong,” I admit quietly. “And I didn’t even realise I was shutting you out while I was doing it.” I drag my eyes back to hers again. “And I’m sorry for that,” I say quietly.
Wynter’s fingers tighten slightly around the door handle before falling away from it altogether.
“You know what hurts the most?” she asks, her voice smaller now, less angry.
I shake my head slowly. “That you’re nice to everyone else.
” I inhale sharply, her words hurting my heart.
“Even Jessica,” she continues with a soft, humourless laugh.
“You’ve known her five minutes, and you’re relaxed around her. You smile at her. She makes you laugh.”
I instinctively take a step towards her, my hand almost reaching for hers before I stop myself.
“You were never like that with me,” she says. “Right from the beginning.” There’s no accusation in her tone anymore, just hurt. “It’s like you looked at me once and decided you hated me.”
“I don’t hate you, Wynter,” I say immediately.
Her eyes meet mine again, glassy and uncertain.
“I feel like I’m constantly trying to catch up with you,” she admits quietly.
“Like I’m not good enough to be in your world.
” She gives a small shrug, but it doesn’t hide the crack in her voice.
“And then you talk like I’m not in the room, or make decisions without me, and it just .
. .” She looks away briefly. “It confirms it.”
Something ugly twists low in my chest, because I did that without even realising. “Wynter—”
“You make me feel inferior,” she whispers, like she hates saying it out loud.
“Christ.” The word leaves me roughly. I close the distance between us before I can stop myself, gently taking her hands in mine. They’re cold. “That is the last thing I ever wanted you to feel.”
She watches me carefully now, mistrust still lingering in her expression like she’s waiting for me to prove her right again.
“The truth is,” I murmur, “I wanted you from the second I saw you.” Her brows pull together slightly.
“And that terrified me.” I let out a quiet breath, my thumbs brushing over her knuckles.
“You walked into my life and suddenly everything felt . . .” I shake my head, searching for the word. “Unstable.”
Her lips part slightly, but she stays silent.
“So, I pushed you away,” I admit. “I kept things cold. Controlled. Because if the lines blurred, I knew I’d lose my head over you.” Emotion flickers across her face so quickly I almost miss it. “But I couldn’t stay away from you either,” I continue more quietly. “Even when I knew I should.”
I swallow hard, holding her gaze. “And that’s the problem, Wynter.” A weak, almost disbelieving laugh escapes me. “I’ve been fighting this from the start while you’ve been thinking I didn’t care at all.”
Her throat moves as she swallows. I watch the emotions shift across her face one after another—hurt, confusion, disbelief.
Hope.
Slowly, I lift my hand. Every instinct in me expects her to pull away. She doesn’t. My knuckles brush softly against her cheek, and a faint exhale leaves her.
Christ.
I don’t think she understands what she does to me. Or maybe she does, and that’s the dangerous part.
My thumb strokes jaw, my fingers curling behind her neck gently, and I realise my heart is pounding hard enough to make my chest ache. “I never wanted to make you feel small,” I murmur.
Her eyes search mine carefully. “But you have.”
The honesty in it hurts more than anger would. I nod once. “I know.”
I can feel her warmth standing this close, see the rise and fall of her chest. Smell the faint trace of vanilla that always seems to cling to her skin. My gaze drops to her mouth. Wynter’s breath catches slightly. “Tell me to stop,” I say quietly.
She just stands there staring at me with those guarded eyes and parted lips, and it feels dangerously close to permission. I lean in slowly, giving her every chance to move. Every chance to end this.
But she stays exactly where she is.
My forehead brushes hers softly, and the contact alone nearly wrecks me. I close my eyes briefly, breathing her in. This close, I can feel the slight tremble in her body.
Or maybe it’s mine.
“Ray . . .” she whispers.
The sound of my name in her voice drags something possessive and desperate from deep inside me.
I tilt my head slightly, my nose brushing hers, my mouth only inches from hers now—
Then suddenly she steps back.
The loss of her warmth is immediate.
Brutal.
Wynter wraps her arms around herself protectively, shaking her head once like she’s trying to clear it. “You can’t do this because I’m carrying your baby,” she says softly.
The words hit like a punch to the chest because she really believes that’s all this is. “That’s not—”
“How do I know this is real?” she asks, her voice cracking slightly now. “How do I know you wouldn’t still hate me if I wasn’t pregnant?”
“I never hated you.”
“But you made me feel like you did.”
I rake a hand through my hair roughly, frustration clawing up my throat because she’s right.
She’s completely fucking right. “I don’t know how to do this,” I admit quietly.
Her eyes flicker at the confession. “I know how to protect people. Provide for them. Fix problems.” A humourless laugh leaves me.
“But this?” I gesture helplessly between us.
“You make me feel completely out of control.”
Something in her expression softens. “I’m scared to trust you,” she whispers.
I nod slowly because, fuck, me too. I inhale deeply, forcing the air slowly back out. “Okay,” I say quietly. “Then let me prove it to you.”
Wynter stays still, watching me carefully.
“I’ll treat you the way I should have from the beginning.
” The admission tastes bitter because it’s true.
“No controlling everything. No talking over you. No deciding what’s best for you without asking.
” I hold her gaze steadily. “I’ll do this properly.
” Something flickers across her face. “And if, after all of that, you still decide you don’t want this .
. .” My chest tightens painfully around the words, but I force them out anyway.
“Then I’ll step back.” Her brows lift slightly. “I’ll let you go.”
The thought feels like someone’s reached into my chest and wrapped a hand around my lungs.
“Really?” she asks softly.
I nod once. “One hundred percent.”
I drag a hand over the back of my neck before continuing, “And I’ll agree to whatever shared parenting arrangement you want. You set the boundaries. The schedule. Everything.”
For the first time since she walked into the office, a genuine smile pulls at her lips. “You really are serious,” she murmurs, almost like she’s trying to convince herself.
“I’ve never been more serious about anything.”
Her eyes search mine again, like she’s looking for the catch. Waiting for me to take the control back. When I don’t, some of the tension leaves her shoulders.
“All I ask is you give me a chance to prove myself,” I add.
She rolls her eyes, but the warmth is back now. I can see it. And Christ, I’d burn this entire city down just to keep that look on her face.
Her hand drifts unconsciously to her bump again, and my eyes follow the movement.
Ours. The thought hits differently now. We can do this together, as a team. A family.
Wynter catches me staring and shifts awkwardly. “What?”
I shake my head slowly, stepping closer again, only this time carefully. Giving her plenty of space to move away if she wants to.
“You rubbed your stomach earlier,” I say quietly. “When I was rubbing your feet.”
A faint blush creeps into her cheeks. “Okay . . .”
“I realised something.”
Her expression turns cautious again. “What?”
“That I’m already in love with both of you.”
The words leave the room completely still. And judging by the way Wynter’s breath catches, I’m not the only one affected by them.
“I want a family so badly,” I admit quietly, “but I don’t think I actually know what a real one looks like.” A weak laugh escapes me. “Not one that isn’t built on responsibility and survival.” Her expression softens further. “I want to learn, though,” I tell her honestly. “For you. For us.”
For a second, she just looks at me. Then slowly, carefully, she lifts her hand to my face. The contact nearly destroys me. Her palm rests against my cheek, warm and soft, and before I can stop myself, I lean into it slightly. My eyes closing for the briefest moment.
Christ.
No one’s touched me like this in years. Not gently. Not like they actually care.
“You do know what a real family looks like,” she whispers.
My eyes open again. She smiles faintly. “Anika. Sebastian. Catherine. Even Dale.” Her thumb strokes lightly against my skin.
“You already built one, Ray.” Emotion clogs unexpectedly in my throat.
“And now . . .” she says softly, taking my hand in hers.
I let her guide me and she presses my palm carefully against the curve of her stomach. My breath catches sharply. Everything inside me goes completely still. Because this is the first time she’s ever let me touch her like this.
My fingers spread instinctively over the small curve of her bump, and the enormity of it hits me so hard it almost knocks the breath from my lungs.
There’s a baby there. Our baby. A life growing beneath my hand while I stand here completely terrified of fucking all of this up.
Wynter watches my face carefully, like she’s seeing every crack in me for the first time.
“She’s getting bigger,” she murmurs softly.
“She?” I ask distractedly, my thumb brushing gently against her stomach.
A small laugh leaves her. “Or he. I don’t know. I just keep saying she.”
I nod slowly, unable to drag my eyes away from where my hand rests against her. And then we both feel it. A gentle movement. A kick.
Emotion builds painfully in my chest. Heavy and overwhelming and unfamiliar as we both gasp. A small laugh leaves Wynter, her face a light with pure joy.
“That’s her strongest kick yet,” she says.
I can’t describe the feeling that kick brings me. Protectiveness. Love. Fear. Hope. All tangled together so tightly I can barely separate one from the other.
“I missed so much already,” I say quietly before I can stop myself.
Wynter’s brows pull together slightly. “Ray—”
“You’ve been carrying this alone while I’ve been acting like throwing money at things makes me useful.”
“It hasn’t been all bad,” she says gently.
“No,” I admit. “But it hasn’t been good enough either.” I look her in the eyes. “I’m so sorry, Wynter. I’m really sorry.”
Sadness fills her expression as she reaches up, wrapping her arms around my neck and pulling me closer.
“Fresh start,” she whispers against my shoulder. “For all of us.”