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I flinch and sit up straighter. “No. I would never cheat on anyone, Harper. Shit.”
She covers her mouth with her shaking hand. “Sorry, but I had to know.”
I relax my posture. “No, all good, it’s only fair.”
Her cheeks expand, and she blows out a long breath and grimaces. “I’m sorry this is all so awkward.”
“Don’t apologize. This is obviously not an everyday conversation, but we’ll figure things out.” This baby definitely wasn’t planned, but it’s neither Harper’s nor the baby’s fault. The baby. My gaze drops to Harper’s midsection. “When did you find out?”
Harper takes a sip of her water and swallows. “Last week, which is why it still feels so surreal to me. Almost every morning, I wake up thinking it was all just a dream, and then a wave of nausea rolls in like a bad reminder of what happened—” She flinches. “Sorry.”
“Why do you feel sorry? You didn’t do anything wrong.”
Her fingers trace the rim of the glass. “I don’t know. It just feels wrong to talk negatively about a baby. It’s not his or her fault.”
Leaning forward to rest my elbows on my knees, I try to catch her gaze. “Harper, you’re allowed to have feelings about this, both good and bad ones.”
Her fingers stop playing with the glass, and she raises her gaze to mine. “You seem to be fine.”
I chuckle at her words, which actually feels good. “I think I’m still in shock.”
“Yeah, I get that.”
“Not to mention, yes, my life is going to change becoming a dad and all, but I’m not the one who has to carry a baby for the next nine months and then give birth to it. I got the easy job for now and plenty of time to get used to the idea.”
“That’s true, I guess.”
Cocking my head to the side, I look at her. Really look at her. She’s still as beautiful as I remember her, but for the first time, it’s obvious how young she is in broad daylight compared to the dim lighting at the bar and hotel room last time. Her makeup isn’t as heavy today either. “Harper, how old are you?”
“Oh . . . uh.”
I watch her as she sets the glass on the table, just so she can fidget with her fingers. My muscles twitch when she clears her throat and bites her lip.
“Mmm, younger than you?”
“Do you know how old I am?”
She nods. “Thirty-five.”
Easy info to come by online, so I’m not surprised.
“How much younger?” My tone is sharper than intended, and her eyes widen.
She quickly composes herself, and some of the fire I noticed in her eyes on New Year’s reignites. “I’m twenty-four.”
This time I crack my knuckles, the loud noise thundering in the quiet room.
I’m eleven years older than her.
Harper raises her quivering chin, a quiet challenge in her shiny blue eyes. “Is that going to be a problem?”
