3. Eric #3
“Thank you, Manny. This is Eric Bayer, my—” Her hesitation lasts only a micromoment. But I realize that it’s just occurring to her that we’re going to have to pretend to be a couple. “Old friend.”
“Did you just call me old?”
“Well, you’re much older than in that photo I just showed you. Didn’t we just go over this?”
I laugh in spite of myself. I’d forgotten that Alex was sharp-tongued, even as a child.
“Welcome, Eric,” the flight attendant says. “Make yourself at home. Let’s get those bags stowed.” He opens a closet to indicate where our suitcases go.
Alex makes a move to stow her own, but I take it from her again. “I’ve got this, sweet cheeks.”
“Thank you. Dear,” she says, shooting me an angry look. But a guy's got to have his fun.
Manny is well trained enough to ignore the whole thing. “Please be seated for takeoff at your earliest convenience. With your seatbelts fastened.”
“Thank you,” Alex says.
I wait for her to choose a seat before I claim the other one. The chair is broad and comfortable, the leather cool beneath my fingers. I’d still rather be eating guacamole on my sofa right now, but we don’t always get everything we want.
Manny does his safety checks and closes the cockpit door before disappearing into the little kitchen up front. I hear the engines change tone, and we eventually push back toward the taxiway.
“Listen. About that night in April,” Alex says suddenly. “I was having a horrible moment. I was rude to several people that night, which is not in my nature. I was exhausted and disappointed with myself.”
“You already apologized to me,” I remind her. “It’s no big deal.”
“By the time you and I spoke, I was just out of gas. And I thought you were just some guy looking around the party at the end of the night for…” She clears her throat. “I was wrong, and I’m sorry.”
“Thank you,” I say.
Except now I’m the asshole. Because she wasn’t wrong. Alex looked fucking great at that party. I’d wanted to talk to her, sure. But I wouldn’t have said no to unzipping that dress, either. Sue me.
“The thing is?” she adds. “Sitting down in a quiet corner somewhere and remembering that summer on the Vineyard was probably exactly what I needed that night. So I really blew it.”
“Well, it’s a long flight,” I point out. “Got nothing but time now.”
She glances over at me again. “I apologize for that, too. I don’t normally kidnap people to Hawaii.”
I shrug. “My brother loves to withhold details. He is the worst kind of tyrant. He knew that if he asked me to work this week for him that I would say no.”
“So, he laid the damsel in distress thing on pretty heavily didn’t he?”
“Yeah, I guess. Not that I got the whole story.” I turn in my seat and give her an appraising look. And I like what I see. Full lips that I shouldn’t be admiring. Long, kissable neck…
“There’s a reason my ex needs to stay clear of me,” she says. “I am not ready for him to know that I’m three months pregnant.”
Wait, what?
I do a terrible job of covering my shock. “You’re—sorry?”
Her smile turns rueful. “That was my original reaction, too.”
“Oh. Uh…” I swallow hard, and realize I’m staring at her. “Congratulations.”
“Thank you,” she laughs. “When I saw you in April, I was freaking out about this turn of events, and trying to host a black-tie party. I absolutely want children, but it wasn’t a goal of mine to have them with someone who hit me.”
“Okay…” I swallow hard as all the details continue to fall into place. “So you need to keep him in the dark about this development?”
“For now,” she agrees. “He only wanted capital from me, anyway. And he’s going to get plenty of it when he signs the agreement to forgo custody.”
“But first you have to get through this business trip? Without him suspecting?”
She nods. “I just hit the three-month mark. It was too soon to have that conversation. And now I have a crucial product launch to get through before the baby arrives in December. I can’t skip this conference. And I can’t let that man get close to me.”
“Wow.” Now I understand why Alex needs someone at her side this week. It’s almost enough to make me feel less grumpy.
Almost. Not quite.
And now I have a new problem. I’m traveling with a pregnant lady? Good lord. I know nothing of pregnant women. In fact, I’ve gone to great lengths to avoid being near them. What the fuck do you even say? “Do you, uh, feel okay?”
“Most of the time. The random barfing has finally stopped.”
“Well, hallelujah.” This whole conversation makes me want to triple check the expiration date on my current box of condoms.
“It’s not as bad as it sounds,” she says with a shrug.
“I feel pretty great most days. And as soon as this trip is over, I can start to get excited. I spent the first three months kicking myself for being so stupid. And the doctor told me not to count my blessings before the twelve-week mark. So it hasn’t really sunk in yet. But I want this child.”
“Then, congratulations, Alex. Your fake boyfriend is happy for you.”
“Thank you,” she replies. “I’ll try not to barf when I smell our food cooking.”
“Good plan.”
What have I got myself into?