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“And now she is yours.”
He swallowed against the thickness in his throat and turned to pick up some toys so Juliet wouldn’t see all of the conflicting emotions he couldn’t hide. The anger had passed from him long before Beau was born, and the betrayal. When he’d gone to the hospital to visit, he’d felt like he was outside of his body—it had been surreal. Mother, baby—the tableau, the joy, they could have been his, but they’d belonged to some other man with no last name.
He’d almost proposed to Bethany in that moment, willing to patch things back together for the sake of the fragile bundle in his arms, but instead he’d been a coward and walked away. If he’d done the right thing then, Bethany would have been here at home with Beau, rather than on the road late at night, in a different part of the state.
Although—what kind of life would it have been for them, stuck in a loveless marriage? He’d loved her once, but her betrayal had killed that stone dead.
The guilt of that cropped up now and then, but it was too fucking late for could-have-beens. Now all he could do was try to do the right thing with the chance he had left.
And yet . . . he was afraid. He didn’t know what he was doing, and he had no reliable support system. He had a business to run and no one to watch her.
He hadn’t had nine months to prep himself for a life of PTA meetings and Little League . . . or . . . dance . . . or whatever.
Owning a BDSM club—being a master, having a slave . . . how was any of that going to work with being a dad? Did he just give up everything until she was twenty-one?
Part of him still wanted to find her some nice parents who lived in the ’burbs so that she was well taken care of, and he could have his life back. Maybe she’d hate him for keeping her.
But the idea of handing her over to someone else just fucking killed him.
Long moments passed before he realized he’d gone silent. He turned back to face his guest.
“I don’t know if I’m doing the right thing—saddling her with a wannabe dad who doesn’t know how to do a ponytail and can’t fucking cook.”
Juliet walked over to him, smiling supportively. She looked like she was thinking of hugging him, but really, they didn’t know each other that well.
He smiled back at her, trying to ignore the temptation to try to seduce her again. “I guess I’ll figure the important stuff out somehow.”
“You’re a quick study.” She put her hand on his arm, and a jolt of inappropriate arousal surged through him.
“Anyway . . .” He stepped back from her, breaking the contact and angling his body so she could get to the door. “I won’t keep you. I’m sure you’ve got things to do.”
“That’s it? That wasn’t much of a date.”
“This was a date?”
Her mouth twisted in self-derision. “It wasn’t supposed to be, but . . .”
“But?”
Her cheeks went pink. “I . . . had fun with you the last time, until I freaked out. I just thought maybe we could try something again.”
“You did?” He arched a brow, and her face turned even redder.
“I mean, if you wanted to.”
“I thought you said this was a bad idea.”
“It is a bad idea.”
“You’re hoping I fuck on the second date?”
Juliet covered her eyes with one hand and shook her head. “Never mind. I’m going to go before I make a complete ass of myself.”
He moved back into her path. “Hang on now. I got the impression you weren’t interested in me anymore now that I have a kid.”
“I’m not saying I want to marry you.”
He frowned. “So I’m not Mr. Right, but I’m Mr. Right Now?”
