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And because I’m feeling daring, I reach up and comb it behind her ear.
“I should probably get back to the guests,” she murmurs breathlessly.
“Yeah. Sure. Of course,” I agree, rising with her.
I walk her back to the door, and before she opens it, she turns to me with a gentle smile.
“Thank you, Zach. I can’t tell you how much it means to know we’re not alone in this after all.” She rests her hand on her stomach as she says it, the “we” apparent in the gesture.
It warms my heart to think I’m going to be a father again. After Lindsey’s mom and I started having issues, I’d given up hope of giving Lindsey a sibling. And while this might not be the conventional way to go about it, I’ve always wanted a big family.
“Not for a second,” I assure her. “We’ll figure it out together.”
She leans up onto her toes to press her lips softly to mine once more. Then she turns to head back down the hall.
I watch her leave, the taste of her kiss lingering on my lips. The weight of the world feels heavier now, but alongside it, there’s a glimmer of hope, a flicker of possibility that we might find a way through this together.
3
MIA
Iscarcely dare to breathe as I head back to my room, worried that if I do, I might wake from my dream. Things went far better with Zach than I had ever imagined they could. He stepped up to the plate right away, taking responsibility without pressuring me to answer the question of paternity. Maybe I have nothing to worry about.
As I step into my room and close the door, leaning back on it, I finally release the breath I’ve been holding. I feel as light as a feather. Daddy won’t be happy when I tell him I’m pregnant, but he’ll be far less disappointed to see Zach by my side. The single dad is kind, responsible, successful, someone my father trusts with important things. So, telling him we’re having a child together will be far less terrifying than doing it on my own.
Now, I just have to entertain Daddy’s guests until he arrives. Pushing off from the door, I collect myself and head to the bedroom to get changed. Cocktail hour is always a lavish affair with evening gowns and fine suits—a perfect opportunity for the women to don their jewels and the men to show off their new trophy wives or mistresses.
Stripping out of my tan cable-knit sweater dress, I toss it onto the bed and open my walk-in closet of designer apparel. I kick my heels toward the shoe rack and run my hands over several options, relishing the plush carpet beneath my feet as I go.
A few seconds later, a soft knock sounds at my door. Probably one of the staff here to give me an update on the dinner menu or event timing. Daddy is nothing if not prepared in every aspect of his life—unlike me—and probably already called the butler to inform him that I’m hosting in his stead.
“Coming!” I call, snatching the rose-colored silk robe off its hanger and quickly shrugging into it. Then I pad to the door, feeling short after my day of travel in Jimmy Choos. I tie the robe around my waist as I reach the door.
Then I grab the handle and swing it open, donning a cordial smile.
My stomach drops as my eyes meet a set of emerald eyes set in a lightly freckled complexion. Cilian’s dirty-blond hair is styled into careless perfection, the shorter locks seemingly haphazardly combed away from his face. But the crisp line of his fade tells me his haircut is freshly maintained.
“Mia, I hope I’m not interrupting anythin’?” He flashes a dangerous smile, sending butterflies into my chest as his eyes scan down the length of my body.
“No, it’s fine. I was just picking out my dress for tonight.”
Is it just me, or is my room getting hotter?It might be that Cilian’s leaning closer, the smells of fresh rain and pine surrounding him in a subtly sexy scent. And though I just left Zach’s room, I find myself desperately wanting the playful Irishman to kiss me.
“I can help with that,” he assures me, his eyes twinkling.
For a split second, I think he’s talking about the kissing part. Then he steps around me, entering my room and heading toward the open closet.
He was offering to help me pick out a dress.
Flustered, I shut the door and follow him back into my room, my stomach a trembling knot of anxiety. “You really don’t have to help,” I insist, entering the closet with him as he scans the rows of hangers like a man on a mission.
“What, are ye worried I don’t have good taste, lass?” he teases, his lips curled into a wickedly handsome smile as he glances my way.
“No, I didn’t—I wasn’t… saying that,” I fumble, my voice tapering off as my mind goes blank.Why do I always get so tongue-tied around Cilian?
Cilian chuckles, low and soft. “I’m only razzin’ ya. Here.”
He grabs a navy-blue velvet bodycon dress with long sleeves, a modest neckline, and a back that plunges all the way to the waist. Sophisticated and sexy—not to mention a perfect accent for my eyes.
