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Cutting It Close
Chloe
Seattle, Washington
7 weeks pregnant
“Welcome to the Single at Thirty Podcast!” Kristin’s voice blared through my headphones. “Today, we’re discussing how to put together the best vibrator collection. Yes, you need more than one in your special drawer. Anyway, this episode is totally inspired by a conversation I recently had with my publishing bestie, who, well—let’s just say her hormones are so out of control lately that she had to call me on her lunch break to vent about them.”
I held back a laugh as the show launched into a sponsor reel.
I was currently standing in the basement of our building, hours before sunrise, which I’d learned was the perfect time to avoid the morning news crews that felt the need to set up outside every day.
“Before we get into today’s topic, I need to explain the difference between good and great self-love.” Kristin’s smooth voice returned. “These are two completely different things and while they both—” My left earbud flew out of my ear, and the right one flew away shortly after.
What the—
I spun around, catching Tyler standing right behind me.
My nipples hardened under my blouse as I looked him over, and my heart skipped a beat. Beautiful as ever, his eyes gleamed under the room’s soft lighting, and despite being dressed down in a black T-shirt and blue jeans, he looked as if he was stepping off a photoshoot.
Why does he always look so perfect?
“Yes, Mr. Carrington?” I asked. “Something you need?”
“How long are you planning to avoid me?”
“Until I give birth. Probably a little while after that, too.”
“That would only be possible if I were the dead-beat dad type.”
“So, you’re just the cheating on your long-term fiancé type?”
“I beg your pardon?” He narrowed his eyes. “What the hell are you talking about?”
“I offered one hell of a deal in that envelope I gave you,” I said. “You can write back and tell me what you don’t like.”
I started to walk away, but he firmly gripped my waist and pushed me against the wall.
“When are you due?”
“Mr. Carrington–”
“Tyler,” He corrects me, tightening his grip. “When are you due, Chloe?”
“January 13th.”
“Have you already secured a private doctor?”
“Look at my salary. What do you think?”
“What about funds for private school?”
“I can barely afford to buy new paperbacks,” I said. “And I get most of them for free.”
His lips curved into a smile, but he didn’t let it stay. “Even with the promotion?”
“Yes. Even with the promotion.”
