Page 35 of One Week With My Dad's Best Friend

I hang up and drop the phone onto the counter.

Anton moves closer, his hand finding the small of my back. “You okay?”

“I will be.” I lean into his touch. “I just hate that Cassandra got to them before I did.”

“We can’t change that now. Let me take you away for a few days. Get some distance from all this drama.” His fingers trace circles on my back. “What do you say?”

The morning light is shining in through the large windows in the bedroom, and it’s so peaceful and perfect. Anton’s head is on my belly and I gaze out at the rising sun as I run my hands through his thick hair.

His sleepy eyes slowly open, and he smiles at me. “You really look like an angel when the sun is on you.”

I grin. “I’m sure I have bed hair and look the very opposite of angelic.”

He wiggles his eyebrows. And I know what that means.

I shake my head at him, laughing.

Then stop and stare. His smile is beautiful, and I don’t want to break the sweet moment.

“What are you thinking about?” he asks me, turning and kissing my stomach.

I shake my head. “Nothing.”

“You know I have a magic wand and can fix anything?” he says.

“That’s what you call it now,” I say and arch an eyebrow.

He knows I’m putting off the inevitable. And he turns and sits up, facing me and taking my hand. “Tell me.”

There’s a steely determination on his face, and I know I’m not getting away without giving him the truth. But what if he no longer wants me when I tell him the truth of my mother’s and maybe my infertility?

“What if I can’t get pregnant?” I whisper, looking up at him through my lashes. My stomach is in knots at what might be my truth. My heartbeat thunders against my rib cage. That’s it, I told him.

“I mentioned that my mother went through rounds and rounds of IVF.” I swallow. “It might be hard for me to get pregnant, or I might not get pregnant at all.”

I hate my next words, but I have to be totally honest. “And you’re older, and that makes it harder again.”

“Oh,” he says. His voice is soft and sounds dejected. “Are you saying you don’t want to be with me because I might not give you a baby? Because my age makes it harder?”

“Oh my god. No. I’m giving you an out of this relationship. I know time isn’t on your side and I know my family history makes it hard for me. The two of us together...” My words rush out, and blood pounds in my ears, thinking this could be the end. Hebrought me here and I should have been brave enough for the conversation before now.

He smiles, and his face softens.

“I don’t want an out. I want you. I want you to be Mrs. Hawthorn and if we have babies, then I will be the best father in the world. If we don’t, I won’t love you any less and I hope you won’t love me any less.”

“I won’t.”

He pushes me down into the bed, covering my body with his muscular one, before he kisses me and pulls away. “This isn’t about a baby for me. I never wanted children before you came along. At least I never thought I did.”

He lowers and kisses me again. The moment is so beautiful and I believe him. I believe he wants me more than anything else and what comes with this love we have, we will share it.

When he pulls back, our gazes lock.

“And there is more than one option for children,” he says. “You, of all people, know that.”

I nod, knowing he is talking about my adopted sisters.

“Let’s enjoy Paris,” he says, kissing me on my lips.

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