Page 125 of Forking the Billionaire

Wow. As Oscar’s words washed over me, my heart turned to stone, heavy and cold in my chest. I stared at him, completely dumbfounded and utterly crushed.

Jasper found out he was the father of my baby. He didn’t plan to tell me. And instead of facing me this morning, he left.

It felt like the wind was knocked out of me. My eyes got blurry.

“Are you all right, Esme?” Morgan asked.

I put on a fake smile and nodded. But I was very much not all right.

More words were exchanged.

Hugs were shared.

I sat there, numb. A detached haze stifled the storm of emotions brewing inside of me, leaving me feeling hollow and disconnected from the world.

When everyone else was gone, Layana and Gabriel remained.

Gabriel took the seat across from me. Layana circled around the table and sat beside me. It wasn’t until she took my hand that I popped out of the trance I’d been in, and the world around me came back into focus.

“Is it time for you to go?” I asked Layana.

She looked at Gabriel.

“No,” he said.

I looked back and forth between them.

“This is exactly what I didn’t want to happen. I can’t be the cause of ruining the most important event of your life.” I sucked in a breath. “Let me let you go.”

Layana squeezed my hand. “We had a beautiful wedding, thanks to you. And you’re family. Being here for you is important to us.”

She hardly knew me, and she was willing to throw her honeymoon away for me. I didn’t want that. I didn’t want any of this.

“You should go,” I said, this time weaker.

“We’re not leaving,” Gabriel said.

Not only had I ruined their after-wedding celebration, I was going to ruin their honeymoon. And there was nothing I could do to stop it.

Worse, a selfish part of me was grateful that they weren’t leaving.

Worse still, Jasper was gone.

THIRTY-THREE

JASPER

As I lay alone in my bedroom with the curtains drawn, the weight of my choices pressed heavily on my heart.

I stared at my phone resting in my palm, the only light in the room. Filling the screen was a picture of Esme in her baggy jeans and threadbare Green Day t-shirt. I’d caught her with her back arched, eyes fluttered shut, and her hands on her breasts.

She’d been teasing me that first night when we’d spent hours searching for a pair of glasses. The image captured Esme perfectly—frustratingly sexy and thrillingly playful.

My every muscle ached with regret and longing.

I told myself I was doing the right thing. I was doing the only thing that I could. I’d crossed a line that could not be uncrossed by sleeping with Esme. The consequences of that indiscretion were forever.

A baby.

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