Chapter Forty-Two
Max
The second Rhys and I walk into Bovine Bistro, the delicious scent of sizzling beef with roasted garlic, herbs and caramelized onions hits us. My mouth starts to water and my stomach grumbles. Hopefully Rhys doesn’t hear it over the music.
A hostess in a white uniform with a black apron around her waist greets us. “Rhys Kingswood, party for two,” I say.
She checks her tablet and smiles. “This way.”
She leads us across the polished concrete floor with charming black cattle prints.
Exposed brick walls and reclaimed dark wood accents lend an earthy appeal, but the huge floor-to-ceiling window facing the street stops the interior from feeling stuffy.
The Edison bulbs above us are unlit, since plenty of natural light is coming in.
But they glow over the open kitchen, where diners can view the chefs working their culinary magic.
Most of the soft burgundy leather banquettes are taken. We get the last remaining one near the window. Two leather folios with menus inside lie on the wooden table.
I sit down and order a bacon cheeseburger and steak fries with iced tea. Rhys asks for the same, except he wants Diet Coke for his drink.
The food comes out fast—the chefs know most customers can’t linger over lunch during the work week. I dig in, closing my eyes over the juicy patties.
“Like it?”
I nod, then swallow. “It’s so good.”
“As good as your mom’s?”
“Almost. It’s missing something hers had.”
“What do you think that is?”
I consider for a second. “Maybe love?”
He gives me a bemused look. “Love has a flavor?”
“Maybe.” I shrug. “What else could it be? I’ve tried every herb and spice combination I can think of, but nothing comes close. Some were downright inedible.”
After about half the burger’s gone, Rhys starts the performance discussion.
I’m going to be promoted to the position of executive administrative assistant starting the upcoming fiscal year, with the raise that goes with the new title.
I couldn’t be happier that I earned this through hard work and dedication.
Nobody, not Trevor, not Jeffrey, can take away my sense of accomplishment and pride.
“So…any questions or comments?” Rhys asks.
“Nope. Looks like I’m exactly where I need to be.”
He picks up a fry and rolls it between his fingers. “You want to try taking on some small projects—maybe expand your role?”
I look at him curiously.
“Some people want to move out of the admin role, and I want to know if that’s something you’re interested in. Not that I don’t want you as my assistant. You’re amazing, and I’ll be sad if you prefer to move on. But I don’t want to limit your potential at the firm, either,” he says.
If I weren’t pregnant, I might be tempted. He isn’t just offering to move me up. If I tell him I’d love to, he’ll personally train me to succeed in my new role.
I look down at my belly. I’ve hidden it long enough. It’s about time he knows, too.
“Actually, not at the moment. There’s…something I have to tell you.
” I take a deep breath, then wipe the cold sweat off my hands on the cloth napkin.
Anxiety gets stuck in my throat, so I sip the iced tea, then re-wipe my hands.
God, how do I say this elegantly, without shocking the hell out of him?
Rhys watches me, his brow furrowed. “You’re starting to scare me. What is it?”
My mouth dries. I can’t think of a way to lessen the impact. One of Mom’s many life lessons flashes in my head—Just go for the truth when you’re stuck. I inhale a shaky breath. “I’m pregnant.” I drop the words like bombs.
He stares, his eyes unblinking behind his glasses. “What?”
“It’s just what I said.” I clear my throat. “I’m pregnant. There’s a baby growing in my belly right now.”
He still says nothing, but his eyes drop to my stomach. The frown deepens, calculations flashing behind them.
Sharp disappointment impales my heart. I didn’t expect him to jump with joy, but he doesn’t have to be so…
detached. He might not feel anything about the baby.
He might even think it’ll complicate his plans.
After all, he proposed the fake dating to get his grandmother off his back. A baby isn’t part of the plan.
Besides, the order of events is all wrong for him—probably.
Just like it wasn’t ideal for me, either.
Didn’t we both seem to agree that it should be marriage first, then maybe a baby or two?
He never said the woman had to be me. Despite our chemistry in bed and the lovely time we have outside of it, he’s never hinted at a desire to be with me forever.
“This…isn’t what I expected. Damn.” He takes off his glasses and runs his hand over his face. He only does it when he’s under an extreme emotional upheaval, and I’ve only seen him do it twice. Both times, the firm was about to lose several billion dollars. “We’ve been so careful.”
“It was Tokyo.”
“Fuck,” he mutters. “We haven’t even been together for a year—”
“I know it ends in a year,” I say stiffly. “This baby changes nothing.”
Every emotion bleeds from his eyes until they look like cold, empty marbles. “Of course not. Why should it?” He gives me an unblinking stare. “Do you want to keep it?”
I hide a wince at the question. “Are you asking me if it’s yours?”
“No.”
The hard, one-word answer hits me like a slap. “You don’t even want to know if it’s yours or Jeffrey’s?”
He pushes the glasses back on his face. “We already established the baby changes nothing.” It doesn’t matter if it’s Jeffrey’s. You and your baby aren’t worth me altering my decision. We end in a year.
I hear the unspoken words. Haven’t I known all along Rhys isn’t the type to commit?
He hasn’t had a real girlfriend in fourteen years, and only wanted me to play a fake girlfriend to avoid his grandmother’s matchmaking attempts.
The baby that I regard with love represents a shackle to him—something that could force him to do something he doesn’t want to.
The temperature in the restaurant seems to drop twenty degrees.
Goosebumps spread all over my skin. I wish I’d ordered warm tea.
He continues in that same flat tone, “The baby’s paternity isn’t as important as what you think about the pregnancy, and what you plan to do about it.”
Bitter disappointment and grief cleave my heart. He couldn’t make it clearer that he doesn’t care about the life we created together.
Tears burn in my eyes. I look away, not wanting him to see how I’m bleeding inside. I’m not going to be pathetic and cling to a man who doesn’t value me or my baby the way we deserve. I exhale roughly, trying to focus on our conversation. “I’m not sure, honestly.”
That isn’t exactly true. What I want are two contradictory things—I want him to be with me and the baby, but I also don’t want him to be with us if he can’t love us unconditionally forever.
“You can’t take too long to decide.”
A self-deprecating smile tugs at my mouth. He sounds eager to…what? Dump me? End it before his parents and grandparents find out? “The baby’s yours.”
Something flickers in his expression. He bites his lip, probably bracing himself for my demanding a commitment beyond our initially agreed-upon date.
You don’t have to worry about that. “But I don’t want you to do the right thing.”
Rhys’s eyes widen for a second. All blood drains from his face until he’s chalk-white. “So, that’s it? You’re going to leave?”
“I don’t need you to stay for the baby—”
He raises a hand, cutting me off. “I will never do ‘the right thing,’ as you put it, just because of the baby.” He presses a spot between his eyebrows, then looks at me, his eyes unwavering. “And you? Do you want to stay together for the baby?”
Under the weight of his gaze, I falter. I care about him—actually, I love him, most likely.
I don’t know how or why, but somehow he got under my skin, and I can’t imagine a life without him.
But at the same time, this isn’t just about my life anymore.
I don’t want him to feel coerced into commitment he never wanted to make. “No.”
His eyes shutter, making it impossible for me to read his emotions, but from the slight sag of his shoulders, he must be relieved.
Later that evening, after dinner, I tell him I want to read, then spend the rest of the night in an armchair in the living room. I can’t lie next to the man I love—and the father of my baby—who wants neither of us and pretend everything’s fine when my heart continues to bleed.