Page 144

*Wow couldn’t let me have one fucking day to celebrate my life with Simon. Had to make it about yourself. You need to learn to play nice with me, I’m the one carrying his child. You’re gonna need to get use to him being needed elsewhere.*

I stare at it for a beat, then let out a slow breath. I guess I should have expected this, I did want her to see it, I just hadn’t thought she’d actually reach out to me.

Simon glances over, catching the shift in my expression. “What’s wrong?”

I sigh and read the message aloud to Simon.

His jaw tightens instantly, knuckles whitening on the steering wheel as his whole body goes rigid.

“That fucking—” He cuts himself off, breathing hard through his nose. “She has no right to message you. None. I’m calling Mark the second we get home. I’m so sorry she’s messaging you.”

“I’m fine,” I cut in gently, placing my hand over his on my thigh.

Simon’s eyes flick to me, still blazing. “You have every right to be upset. Even at me. I’m sorry my shitty decisions are messing up our day… again.”

“It’s fine.” I shake my head before admitting, “I was kind of hoping she’d see it, maybe I was being petty for her post this morning.”

He stares at me for a second before snapping his gaze back to the road. “Sweet girl,” he says slowly, voice laced with disbelief and something warmer. “Were you… getting back at someone for upsetting you? Are you feeling okay?”

Heat creeps up my neck, and I blush, a small giggle escaping before I can stop it. “Is that so shocking?”

Simon lets out a short, stunned laugh, the anger in his eyes softening into something like pride. “Yeah, it is. I didn’t think you had a petty bone in your body. But damn if I’m not a little impressed.”

I giggle again, the sound bubbling up from a messy tangle of embarrassment and something dangerously close to delight. His approval feels better than I expected, warm and validating in a way that makes my chest flutter. “Don’t get used to it,” I say softly, my fingers tightening around his. “I’m already feeling bad for wanting to hurt her feelings. She’s pregnant and alone. I shouldn’t be adding to her issues.”

Simon’s smirk fades the second he hears the shift in my voice—the sudden thickness there, the regret creeping in. His thumb strokes over my knuckles, slow and steady, but I can feel the tension rolling off him in waves. Before he can answer, his phone lights up again on the console between us. Veronica’s name flashes across the screen like a warning.

The guilt hits harder now that the petty high has worn off. I was deliberately trying to sting a twenty-one-year-old who’s pregnant, who has almost no support from the child’s father—if it even is Simon’s—and probably none from her family either. I should have been the bigger person. At least when I was in her shoes—pregnant with Theo, scared and alone after Simon and I split—I had a family who showed up for me in every way that mattered. Not just with money, but with love and hands to hold and shoulders to cry on. She has none of that. And I went and rubbed salt in the wound on purpose.

“You can answer,” I tell him quietly, staring out the windshield at the winding road. My stomach twists.

Simon exhales through his nose, sharp and frustrated. The phone rings again almost immediately. He ignores it, then switches his phone to dnd.

“She can yell at me tomorrow,” Simon says, his voice dropping into that low, playful rasp that always makes my stomach flip. “I have a lot planned for my new fiancée.” He shoots me a sideways smirk, one eyebrow lifted, the corner of his mouth curved in a way that promises trouble.

The shift in tone hits me instantly. My thighs press together on their own, a hot, insistent ache blooming between them. I squirm in the passenger seat, suddenly hyper-aware Simon’s hand on my thigh, and the low thrum of the engine vibrating up through my seat.

“Simon,” I breathe, half-laughing, half-warning, my cheeks flushing hot. I can feel the slick heat gathering again, the same needy pulse that started when he called me his sweet girl on the mountain. I shift again, crossing my legs, but it only makes the friction worse.

He glances over again, eyes darkening when he catches the way I’m fidgeting. “Been watching you squirm since the overlook. Thought I’d have to drag you into the woods and fuck you against a tree.”

“You’re really trying to kill me,” I groan, leaning my head back against the seat.

Simon chuckles, low and rough, and gives my thigh another squeeze. “Almost home baby.”

Chapter thirty-nine

Simon

My ring has been on her finger for six hours. I’ve been half-hard for five of them.

Blaire locks the front door and I have her against it before she even gets her shoes off, one hand already under her shirt. She laughs into the kiss, then stops laughing when I get a thigh between hers and she grinds down on it.

“Bedroom,” she pants against my lips.

“Toys.”

She blinks, pulling back to look at me. “What?”