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I have no money, and no clue how to care for two kids. An abortion would solve all my practical problems. It’s not as if I have a connection with the babies. I haven’t even felt them move yet. If it wasn’t for the ultrasound, I wouldn’t even have been convinced there was anything in there.
And yet… I heard their hearts beating. They have arms and legs and fingerprints. They can hear me, Mathew said.
I look down at my bump and rest my hand on it for a moment.
“I understand why you don’t want to influence me,” I say slowly. “And I appreciate that. I don’t think every guy would be like that in your position. But… I need to know what you’re thinking. I’m not saying I’ll only do what you want. I have my own opinion. But you’re the father, and I want to take your feelings into account. Do you think it would be best if I terminated the pregnancy?”
Still, he hesitates.
“Please,” I say, even though I’m convinced I know what he’s going to say, and I know I’m going to be devastated.
“You want me to be honest?” he says. “Even though it might affect your opinion?”
I nod, heart racing.
He looks me in the eyes. “I want these babies. One hundred percent.”
For a moment the words don’t register. Then they sink in, and I inhale. Shock, surprise, and joy radiate through me like golden light. “Really?” I whisper.
His gaze caresses my face as he obviously registers my pleasure at his response. “If you were only a few weeks pregnant, I might have felt differently. And I don’t blame women who make that decision at all. But we’ve just seen them move. We’ve heard their heartbeats. I’ve met a lot of couples over the past year who are undergoing IVF. They go through so much, and to them a baby is a gift so precious they’d give almost anything for. And so I can’t see this as anything except a miracle.” He smiles.
It’s so much more than I expected, and I’m filled with wonder. But just because he doesn’t want me to get rid of the babies doesn’t mean it’s all roses around the door. I have to remember he’s a billionaire businessman, and this is still an inconvenience for him, even if it’s not a totally unwelcome one.
“That’s a beautiful thing to say,” I tell him. “And I’m so touched. But I need to tell you that I don’t expect anything from you. You don’t have to get involved at all. Your life doesn’t have to change one bit, I swear.”
His face flickers with impatience at that. “The guy has no legal rights to be involved in a pregnancy without the consent of the mother. I can’t force you to do anything, and I wouldn’t want to. It’s your prerogative to refuse anything from me. I understand you have pride, and you don’t want to accept charity. And I’m sure you could cope on your own. But having one baby is a challenge—having two is going to be much harder, I’m sure. I know we’re not a couple, and we’re not romantically involved, but I want to help. I don’t want you to have to struggle. I have money, and I would like to use it to give my sons the best start I can in life. Does that make sense?”
I swallow. His gaze is steely and, despite the fact that he’s usually playful and warm and boyish, suddenly I have no trouble believing that he runs a company, and he’s a man used to getting his own way.
I know we’re not a couple, and we’re not romantically involved, but I want to help.
That gives me such mixed feelings. He wants to be a part of the babies’ lives, which is amazing, and so much more than I expected. But it means I’m going to be around him, seeing him all the time, and he’s not going to belong to me.
We had a one-night stand, which we both enjoyed, and I know Kip saidThis is the one you’ve been moping about for the last few months?But that was before Saxon knew about the babies. I’ve no doubt he thought I was fun in bed, but I’m not girlfriend material, and I’m certainly not wife material for someone like him. He needs a pretty woman on his arm, who he can take to the kind of functions that men like him attend—balls and parties and whatever. A woman who knows how to make polite conversation, and who has a wardrobe that includes more than black leggings and T-shirts. Someone who can speak French and who understands art and literature. A person who hasn’t had to spend the whole of her life just surviving.
This is my fault, he said.I made a mistake. He’s big enough to admit it and deal with it. He’s obviously an honorable guy, and he’s determined to take care of me and his sons. But he’s not about to declare undying love for me. I’ve never been a romantic before, and I can’t start being one now.
“I understand,” I say with as much graciousness as I can manage. “I’m glad you want to be involved.”
He looks relieved. “I’m so glad. We’ll talk more about it later.” He starts the car and slides it into the traffic. “We’d better get back to the office. Damon should be in by now, so you can meet him. Then I’ll only have my parents to worry about.” His lips twist.
“When are you going to tell them?”
“Saturday, probably. We often go over there for lunch to catch up. Next week I’m in Auckland, but maybe the following weekend you’d like to come with me? They’re going to want to meet the mother of their first grandchildren.”
I blink. Holy shit.
He glances at me. “It’s all right, don’t look so terrified. We’ll talk about that later. Look, I was thinking… as it’s your birthday today, and I’m out for lunch, would you like to come over to my place tonight and I’ll cook us dinner?”
My eyebrows rise. “You can cook?”
“Well, I usually eat out or get takeout, so it’ll be pretty basic. You like steak?”
“I’m embarrassed to say I’ve never had one.”
He looks shocked for a second, then covers it and says, “Well I can do that. How about it? We can have dinner, and maybe chat for a bit. I’d like to get to know the mother of my children.” Do his words hold a touch of sarcasm? He glances at me. “I’ll take you home afterward.” Yeah, he’s making it clear that it’s not a romantic dinner.
And that’s fine. I need to be grown up about this. Someone is offering to cook me dinner on my birthday for the first time in my life. How can I say no to that?
