Page 31 of Secret Baby for the Bad Boy

“Sure,” I say, still mesmerized by the view – and I don’t mean the one out the windows, either. I watch her move as she shifts her weight from one hip to the other, looking pretty and comfortable in dark leggings with a loose sweater on over the top. Her hair is pulled up into a messy bun that’s adorable. She looks relaxed, in her element, and just as beautiful like this as she is in designer dresses.

“Make it two,” I say, finally tearing my gaze away from her. I’ll need the alcohol to face whatever happens next. Because I think she’s about to fire me. We both know that this pull between us… eventually it’s going to become too much to fight. And when that day comes, we’ll break our the past stays there agreement.

She walks over and I try not to stare as she hands me a glass. “Whiskey, right?” she says, and I smile that she remembers my drink of choice from all those years ago.

“I don’t drink often anymore,” I say, meeting her eyes over the rim of my glass. “Only on special occasions.”

She blinks and nods, as if taking that into account. Her response tells me this is not going to be a special occasion, and that knowledge kicks my heart rate into double time.

The penthouse seems so silent after the noise I’d experienced before. Win has a huge personality and the space feels empty without him. I want to ask where he is, but I don’t want to spook her. He seems like a tender topic, and I don’t want to cause problems. The quiet seems to amplify every small sound.

We sit opposite each other. Lara’s almost got me drooling with the way her legs are crossed so elegantly while I try to match the calm in her body language.

I glance over when I hear the soft sound of tires on marble and see Damon.

“Sorry, didn't mean to interrupt,” he says, halting his wheelchair before taking off toward another part of the penthouse.

“Hey, no worries,” I say, but he's already gone. Lara's watching him go, a half-smile pulling at the corners of her mouth. She looks back at me, and that smile is still there, but it dims slightly. Another bad sign.

“Your brother lives with you?” I ask, not to be rude, but I’d assumed he was here before in solidarity. As I ask, I nod in the direction he disappeared.

“Yes.” Her voice is soft as velvet. “I’m all he has.” She lifts her shoulders as if there’s no other option. “He's amazing.”

“It looks like you two have a good relationship and he’s lucky to have you.”

She snorts. “I’m the lucky one. He's been through a lot, and he’s still an amazing uncle and man.”

“I love that you take care of your family.” There’s so much to respect about her I’m having trouble keeping track of everything.

“That’s what we’re supposed to do,” she says, glancing after her brother.

I want to tell her that not everyone would do what she’s done. Plenty of people don’t care for loved ones who need support. She’s a wonderful woman and this is another piece of her, another layer of the woman who's never really left my mind for five years now.

She nods, and takes a deep breath, as if steeling herself. I try to prepare for what she’s going to say next. There’s no bracing myself for being fired from a job I love and losing the woman I’ve been falling for, but I have to try to keep calm and relaxed, no matter what.

As she exhales, I sense she’s struggling, too. But when she speaks, her voice doesn't waver.

“There's something I need to tell you.” Her eyes lock onto mine, unflinching.

My brow furrows. That’s an odd way to fire someone. Why word it like that? It’s not like her to be awkward with words.

“Go ahead,” I say as the silence stretches out between us.

“There’s no easy way to say this. But I feel like I screwed up and I need to make things right.” Another deep breath and a lightening of her shoulders, as if some burden is being eased as she speaks.

“What could she possibly need to make right? I blink, suddenly feeling comfortable I’m not being fired, but worried what this means instead.

“It's about my son, Winston. Win.” Her gaze glazes over with warmth and love, and I can feel the depth of her devotion to him. He’s such a delightful little guy, I can understand why. There’s something familiar about him, something I can’t quite place. My guess is that it’s his personality, so like his mother.

Then she seems to snap back, and her gaze meets mine. “Our son.”

I can’t breathe.

How…

I think back to those two nights, so long ago. I hadn’t used protection, and I guess she wasn’t on any, either.

“Our son?" My throat tightens around the words, and I feel the blood drain from my face.

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