Page 83 of Secret Baby for Dr. Grump

If her first words hit me hard, the next ones hit me harder.

“That you are too much. That I’m not ready for whatever this is. That I want to chase my dreams and you are kind of?—”

She stops, but it’s too late. I rear back, hearing what she’s not saying, and punched with the truth I hear in it. But it’s the detached way she handles the aftermath that truly sinks in for me—like she’s gotten over it already.

Like she’s gotten over me.

A cold sensation wraps around my spine before it spreads throughout the rest of my body.

“So it was just sex to you?”

She opens her mouth, then closes it. I latch on to the movement, an ache pulling at my system before I get hit with reality.

“We had an attraction, Luke. It’s not your fault that I want nothing to do with it anymore.”

Had. Past tense.

God. She sounds fucking cold.

“And the resignation?”

She shrugs. “I got a good offer elsewhere. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner, but it’s a good thing. We both get a clean slate.”

“And you fucking decided all of this yourself?”

Her eyes flare at my response before her shoulders stiffen and her chin lifts.

“Yes, Luke. Because I’m doing this for myself. And that has nothing to do with you.”

The thorn in my chest returns, but it’s not only that. There’s an invisible knife digging at my ribs, too, and making it hard to breathe. I get what she’s trying to say, but denial is a strong emotion pulsing in my system.

It mixes with everything else. It messes me up.

“Tell me one thing, Liv.”

“What?”

I lean in. “Tell me you felt nothing for me when we were together.”

Surprise sparks in her features. Her lips part and the yearning inside me increases, wanting to get past whatever this is…waiting for her to tell me that this is some stupid joke and I mean the world to her, just as she means the world to me.

But her lips snap shut and she looks me in the eye. Cool. Firm.

Final.

“Riley’s my priority. My dreams come second. I’m sorry, Luke, but my mind’s made up. Let’s just act civil for our daughter. I’ll text you for the next playdate.”

Translation: You’re not a part of those dreams.

You’re not a part of my life.

Anger rises like a storm. Then the hurt batters me inside out until I can no longer speak, but it doesn’t matter.

Because as soon as Olivia sees that I’m done talking, she closes the door to my face.

I stay angry for days. I bask in it, preferring it to the hurt that drives me fucking crazy and makes it impossible to even function. That anger fuels me into continuing to go to the hospital, determined for things to be normal because I’m confident that things will return to normal—as in Olivia will pick up my call, tell me how much she misses me, and tell me she does want to get back together.

Following that is her return to the hospital, where she belongs. I might need more convincing to accept her apology, but I know in my heart that I can’t resist her and will probably be the first to take her in my arms.

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