Page 39 of Baby For My Ex's Brother

Then, with a nonchalant roll of her shoulders, she turns and saunters out, closing the door behind her. I'm left alone again, breathing heavily, fully aware that this is already out of control.

I need to fire Shiloh if I want to resist her… but I can’t do either of those things.

And the closer I get to her, the closer we get to disaster.

Chapter sixteen

Shiloh

‘Operation Get Shiloh anApartment’ is a go.

I'm scrolling through listings on my phone like a woman possessed, Jackie hovering over my shoulder. We're crammed into a corner booth at the coffee shop down the street, drowning in the clatter of cups and the buzz of caffeine-fueled conversations.

I've got to find a new place, and fast.

"Here!" Jackie's finger jabs at the screen, her voice slicing through the din. "This one looks promising."

She's right. It's a studio loft with sleek lines and floor-to-ceiling windows with a view that screams high-rise elegance. A far cry from the dingy one-bedroom I'd resigned myself to when I was desperately trying to escape Chris on a budget. My pulse ratchets up a notch.

This could be it. The fresh start I so desperately need.

"Okay, let's do this," I mutter, already dialing the number before the listing disappears from the screen or my nerve fades.

"Hi, yes, I'm calling about the studio loft? Is it still available?" My words rush out, tripping over themselves in their haste to get out and seal the deal before anyone else can swoop in.

The voice on the other end is calm and businesslike as they discuss the details, but I barely register the particulars. All I can focus on is getting to 'yes'.

"Absolutely, I can have the paperwork sent over in—Great, thank you." I manage to squeeze out a semblance of polite enthusiasm even though my heart's doing somersaults.

"Shiloh?" Jackie's eyes are wide, expectant.

"Approved," I breathe out, and it feels like the first full breath I've taken all day. "I got it."

We exchange a look, a mix of relief and excitement. This is more than just a new apartment; it's a declaration of independence, a leap into the unknown.

And I'm ready for it. More than ready.

I don't let the high fade as I drive back to Chris's apartment. The reality of my new beginning fills the car like an anthem, blaring through the speakers of my mind. My hands grip the wheel with purpose, and the city blurs past in a mosaic of opportunity.

"New beginnings," I whisper to myself, a smile tugging at my lips.

When I pull into the familiar driveway, my heart is thrumming a victory beat. The movers are going to be here any minute, and the loft downtown is waiting for me—empty, open, mine.

But the moment I step into the apartment, the air shifts.

Chris is there, sitting at the kitchen table like a brooding storm cloud, with an envelope laid out in front of him. His frown is deep, etched with something that looks suspiciously close to betrayal.

"Shiloh." His voice cuts through the room, and it's all I can do not to shiver under the weight of it.

"Chris." I keep my tone neutral, but inside, my excitement is curdling into something more akin to dread.

What does he know?

"Busy day?" he asks, his words loaded with an edge I can’t quite decipher.

"Productive," I reply, sliding my keys onto the counter with a clatter that seems too loud in the tense silence between us.

My gaze flits to the envelope, then back to Chris. Our history is complicated—a tangled mess of pain and betrayal—but this feels different. We've always been a push-and-pull of emotion, but now there's a chasm of secrets stretching out, threatening to swallow us whole.

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