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I hover near the door, nerves blasting through my system like a rocket launching into space, as I wait to see what Stacia decides. Finally, after what feels like three lifetimes, both she and AJ emerge from the hallway.
“Stacia—”
“You have fifteen minutes.” AJ nods to the couch. “Use them wisely.”
We each grab an opposite end of the couch. Stacia’s eyes are watery, and her cheeks splotchy. “Are you okay?” I ask lamely.
She huffs. “What do you think?”
“I…I swear this is a massive misunderstanding. Will you hear me out? Please?”
“I’m here, aren’t I?”
I take a deep breath. “Stacia, what happened between us last night was not planned or premeditated at all. I didn’t seek you out with the intention of fucking you. I would never—and I mean never—disrespect you or any other woman by trying to trap them with a pregnancy.
“And yes, I realize that sounds like a load of shit, given the circumstances. I swear on my life—my health, my business, my Mimi Jean’s grave—what happened between us was legit. I was so caught up in the moment—in you—that protection didn’t even cross my mind. All I could think about was how you’d sound with me inside you.
“I know you feel deceived, but that was never my intention. I respect the hell out of you and wouldn’t lie to you like that. Please. Please believe me.”
Stacia releases a shuddery breath. “I—I have some questions.”
I scoot a little closer. “Anything.”
“Ten women…why were you and Colton…?”
She leaves her sentence unfinished, but I know what she’s asking. “We were interviewing potential baby mamas.”
Stacia sucks in a sharp breath. “You really didn’t plan it? Or at least plan to ask me?”
“Honestly, no. The thought didn’t even occur to me until after we’d already fucked.”
“You’re…clean, right?” she asks, ducking her head before rushing to add, “I totally am. I was checked at my last gyno appointment. It was four months ago, but I haven’t been with anyone except you since.”
“Clean as a whistle.”
She looks relieved, and honestly, I am, too.
Stacia shifts uncomfortably, and I know the big question is coming. “Explain why you…need…to have a baby?”
“You already know, from everything Brock and AJ went through, the Larson clan aren’t exactly…sane. Or cuddly. Or kind. Except my Mimi Jean. She was the best part of my childhood. If it weren’t for her, I probably wouldn’t be here.”
Stacia’s face softens a fraction. “What do you mean?”
“My parents liked the idea of having a kid. All of their friends were doing it, so they did, too. But the actuality of it was not for them. They had a nanny until my mother caught Dad fucking her; after that, she refused to hire another and I was left to fend for myself. If I wanted food, I found it; I lived off of Goldfish crackers and Cheerios. I drank water from the bathtub faucet. I literally never left the house unless it was for a special occasion. I was a prop. Brought out and put on display when needed, then tucked away and forgotten.”
Stacia’s eyes are wide and glassy, but she doesn’t interrupt.
“Eventually, I lost so much weight that my Mimi Jean started asking questions—ones my parents couldn’t answer. She demanded right there on the spot for them to let me live with her—and they agreed, as long as I still was present when needed, to play the part of a loving son. Isn’t that some shit?” My voice breaks a little as the tidal wave of their abandonment crashes over me. Even still, it hurts. The fact that they could just give me away so easily—even if it was for the best—fucking hurts.
“Anyway, Mimi Jean took me in, no questions asked. Her husband—my dad’s Dad—wasn’t happy about it, but he loved her and tolerated me. Well, at least until I was around sixteen. She passed away the day after my birthday, and he didn’t waste a second shipping me back home. He couldn’t stand being in their house without her, but couldn’t bear to get rid of it either, so he sealed it up and moved. Those eleven years were the best of my life. Every single childhood toy, photograph, and memory is tied up in my Mimi Jean’s estate.
“When he died, he left the estate to me in a trust. But the only way I can access it is if I have a baby before my next birthday. So yes, while I desperately need an heir, I would never force it onto anyone—especially you.”
In an unexpected but oh-so-needed move, Stacia reaches over and takes my hand. Her thumb brushes over the top, soothing the storm raging inside of me. “I…I don’t know what to say, West.”
I look up from our joined hands, locking my stare onto hers. “Say you believe me. That you forgive me. That you’ll come home.”
