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“Bren.”
“Sofia, I swear to god if you don’t tell me right now who else could be her father...” His eyes narrow when he trails off. Then he studies me, those chocolate brown eyes roaming my face as I chew the inside of my lower lip.
His eyes widen when realization washes over him, and he stumbles back a step before catching his balance on the back of a chair. “No,” he croaks out.
“I’m so sorry, Bren.”
He shakes his head, the long trails of tears rolling down his face making my own tears spill over. And isn’t this a fucking perfect sight? Bren, our daughter, and me, all crying.
“You can’t have a baby with Finn.” His voice cracks. “You just can’t.” His voice cracks again. “Not with my best friend. Please, God. No. Anyone but him.”
“Bren, I’m ninety-nine percent sure she’s yours. But I had to be honest. I had to tell you that even I have some doubt.”
“Get out!” he hisses, and Addy cries louder. I have to get her away from him. My protective instincts kick in, and I grab the sling from the coffee table, making quick work of wrapping her in it.
“Get the fuck out of my house!” he yells. I startle when rapid footfalls come down the hallway, and Fritz is at my side in no time. He holds on gently to my elbow.
“Come on,” Fritz says over Addy’s crying, escorting me away. “I’ll get you home.”
* * *
When the elevator doors shut,I wipe my tears and ask Fritz, “Did you hear all of that?”
He nods. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to, but I didn’t want to leave you alone with him.”
“Did you really think he would hurt me?”
“No. Not physically, but Bren can be...explosive.”
Addy is settling down in my arms, cooing softly, allowing me to relax and finish wiping my own tears away.
“I can’t go home, Fritz,” I say finally. “I have nowhere to go.”
He looks down at me and arches a brow in question.
“My house is surrounded by reporters.”
He sighs. “Right.” When we get to the lobby floor, Fritz pulls me back into the elevator and presses a number only a few floors below Bren’s penthouse.
“Where are we going?” I ask.
“My place.”
I look up at him in question. “You live here?”
“I’m renting an apartment. Bren and I had plans to work on the next album, so I wanted to be close by.”
* * *
Fritz’s apartmentis less lavish than Bren’s but is still upscale and modern, though it lacks any warmth. The leather seating, glass, and concrete fixtures...all of it screams bachelor pad.
I settle onto the couch with Addy.
“What now?” Fritz asks.
I shrug. “I don’t know. I’ve never seen him so mad, and we used to...”
“Fight a lot?” Fritz asks.
