Page 66 of Forking the Billionaire

Morgan twisted in her seat and beamed at me. “She’s good.”

I nodded. Sage was great at reading people. I wasn’t convinced that it had anything to do with her props, but she definitely deserved credit for her craft.

“There’s a surprise in the near future,” Sage said. “For one of you.”

Her eyes flashed to me, so quickly I hoped I was the only one who caught it. Also, panic quickly rose up in my chest and I seriously debated fleeing before she could say whatever she thought she might know. But my feet remained rooted firmly in place.

“What kind of surprise?” Morgan asked.

Don’t let this be about the tiny pecan growing in my stomach.

“Small in size, large in impact.”

I could feel Sage pinging me, like she was staring right at me, even though her cloudy gaze was set on Morgan.

I sucked in a sharp breath. Sage knew. How could she know?

“I have a weasel,” Morgan said.

“Mm,” Sage said, in a completely noncommittal way.

She definitely knew. All the air seemed to whoosh out of the tent, even though the flaps were still open.

I couldn’t talk about it. No one could know. I couldn’t take the pressure; I couldn’t risk my secret being exposed.

I backed slowly away, and once I was outside, I ran.

I wasn’t sure where I was running, exactly, since there was nowhere to go to escape the “surprise” who was about to take over my life. Running onto the beach wouldn’t help. Going home wouldn’t serve me any better.

Being pregnant was something I’d have to face no matter where I was, no matter how hard or how far I ran. The time to face it wasn’t now. I needed to get through these couple of days first. I needed?—

As I rounded the corner, I caught sight of a big mass right in my way. I slammed to a stop, twisting and catching my balance so I didn’t hit whoever it was or land on the ground.

“I’m sorry. I wasn’t watching—” My words crashed in my throat as quickly as my thoughts had in my head.

I stared at the aquamarine-shirted meat wall. It was Jasper, because of course it was.

“You okay?” His expression was soft, like I was an injured animal he might scare if he moved too quickly.

I couldn’t breathe. Everything was too much. I wanted to run until I collapsed.

I answered, “No.”

“Walk with me,” he said so gently it made my heart ache. “Please.”

“No.” I hugged myself, wishing I could shoot up into the sky and fly away.

“Dinner then. An opportunity to talk.”

“I have plans.” He didn’t have to know those plans involved a frozen container of veggie alfredo. In my living room. Alone.

“I’m not asking for a date.” He scrubbed a hand over his face. “We need to talk.”

He kept saying that—talkity talk talk.

I said, “We’re talking right now.”

He looked back to where the rest of the wedding crew was shopping in the market. “In private.”

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