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He sighed, shifting Jamey slightly in his arms so he could hold him with one hand. His other cupped my cheek, wiping away the tears as they escaped. “It can wait if it needs to. I’m sorry if this was too much for you today.”
I turned my face toward his hand, keeping his warmth on me. “It’s all just a lot. All of it. You and me, this child…”
“Then let’s talk about it, angel.”
I shook my head, stepping back from his small act of kindness. The night air hit my face, cooling it far too quickly with the dampness there. “I can’t,” I whispered. “Not tonight, okay?”
Jamey stirred in his hold, a little grunt escaping his lips. “Daddy?”
I nodded at him as I took another step back. “Put him to bed.” I hated the feeling that ripped through with every step I took, from pavement to soft grass. But I couldn’t just stay and watch him pull me in closer, I couldn’t fall harder. I thought, stupidly, that he’d say something to me today. Maybe he’d tell me that he had feelings for me, that he wanted to give it a proper go, that raising this child would be easy as pie because we could do it together.
My condo was too warm, too uninviting. I didn’t want to be there, I wanted to be next door, with him and Jamey, but it was pointless. Thoughts raced through my head; horrible, ugly thoughts that I couldn’t do it anymore, that being fake engaged to him was far too hard when these feelings were building inside of me. I couldn’t just pretend to be in love with him when I actually was. But the hardest part was I couldn’t pretend to be his when I wasn’t.
Fucking pregnancy hormones. That was all this could be. Just hormones. I’d get over it. I had to get over it.
Chapter 37
Hudson
Saturday
Ichickened out.
I chickened the fuck out—again—multiple times now. Nathan was right. I was only hurting her in the process. I saw it on her face last night as she stepped away from me, as she declined my invitation to come in and talk, as the tears welled up in her perfect eyes and coated her freckled face. Forty-five had fallen. I’d actually managed to count all of them.
I wasn’t going to chicken out today. I couldn’t. I was going to lay every single card I had on the table, explain everything as well as I could. I was going to fix this.
I had to fix this.
The moment I woke up, as I shifted between the sheets searching for my phone, I decided that tonight had to be the night. If I forced myself into a position where I had to tell her, where it would be the only thing I could do, then I couldn’t run away from it. I’d have to face it head-on, good or bad. I still wasn’t entirely sure which was which.
I called my mom first and sorted out babysitting. She would take Jamey for the night, and though I couldn’t explain exactly why, she seemed to handle it better than I thought she would considering she’d just had him for five nights in a row. Jamey wouldn’t be pleased, but I needed him to be alone with Sophie this evening.
I called the caterers next. I booked a private chef for seven o’clock onward, instructing him to board my yacht before we arrived. It was too large to fit along the side of my house, so I paid the fees to keep it docked although I hadn’t set foot on it in two years. The S.S. Becks would need a new name, but in the meantime, it would have to do.
I called the cleaners. Begged them at short notice to clean up the boat, change the sheets on the bed, and ensure the vessel was spotless after two years of avoiding it like the plague. I’d have done it myself if I had the time, but I didn’t. I needed the day to prepare.
Nathan did like to say I was dramatic.
————
The traffic entering central Boston was absolute hell on earth. My satnav claimed there was a crash ahead and all four lanes of US-1 were stopped, inching forward at a snail’s pace.
I pulled my phone from my pocket, double-checking around me that there weren’t any police officers stuck in traffic next to me, and fired off a text to Sophie.
I need to see you tonight. I’ll explain everything. Come over at seven. Wear something nice.
My hand shook as I hit the send button. I wasn’t even sure if she’d respond. I’d told myself multiple times this morning that if she didn’t want to talk to me, if she ignored my calls and messages, I’d go to her house and beg her to come with me if that’s what it took. I wasn’t going to let this fall apart again. I wasn’t going to chicken out again.
My phone buzzed as I moved a centimeter forward in traffic.
Can we have crab legs again?
I chuckled, the back of my head falling against the headrest. That message was ten times better than what I was expecting. She easily could have told me to go fuck myself and even that would have felt like a relief.
Abso-fucking-lutely.
Okay. Will Jamey be there?
