Page 34 of Knocked Up By the Silver Fox

Losing the company was one thing—I could rebuild, fight back, adapt. But losing Abby? That wasn't an option. Not after losing her mother. The thought of going through that kind of loss again tightened my chest, a pang of grief mixing with the day's turmoil.

It was time. Tomorrow, I'd have to sit her down, be honest about Beth, about everything. She needed to understand what Beth meant to me, and what we were facing. No more dancingaround it. If I was going to keep us together, I needed to fight for more than just the company. I had to fight for my family.

23

BETH

Two weeks into the new job, I still felt like I was wearing someone else's clothes—functional, sure, but never quite the right fit. The team was polite enough, the work familiar, but the air around me was thick with whispered conversations that cut off abruptly when I entered a room. Gossip always had sharp edges, and I was learning just how deep it could slice.

I kept my head down, threw myself into my tasks, and smiled just enough to keep things civil. But every once in a while, a careless comment would drift my way, words wrapped in fake concern."It's a shame, really, after all she did for the company."Or worse,"I guess it's true—Nevil does have his eyes everywhere."They thought they were being subtle. They weren't.

At night, I'd retreat to my small apartment and let myself feel the weight of it all. The calls with Will were my one reprieve, a tether to something steady amidst the chaos. His voice calmed me, even when the words were heavy. He hated that I'd started sending out résumés, but what choice did I have? I couldn'tcount on this job being mine for long, not with the board circling like sharks.

Still, the space between us had offered an unexpected gift: clarity. I missed working side by side with him, missed the subtle brush of his hand against mine during long nights of brainstorming or the way he could make even the worst days bearable with a single glance. But this distance had confirmed what I already knew in my heart—I loved him. Fully, completely. And I wanted to be with him.

But Abby…Abby complicated everything. I couldn't and wouldn't come between them. She was his daughter, his world, and I respected that. The posts she'd made online had been taken down quickly, but the damage lingered. I couldn't pretend it didn't. She needed time, maybe more time than I'd expected. And if giving Will space to navigate that was what it took, then I would do it. For him. For her.

The secret I carried, though, added another layer of weight. Every night, I thought about telling him. The baby wasn't just my responsibility—it was ours. But I kept hesitating. The timing felt wrong. Everything felt wrong. And so I stayed silent, quietly preparing for what might come, building a plan in case I had to leave.

Some nights, I'd lie awake, hand resting on my stomach, and wonder how this would all end. Will believed in fighting for what mattered, and I wanted to believe in that too. But the reality was, even he couldn't control the board, and I couldn't control how the world saw us. Rachel didn't help either. Her frustrated expressions and the occasional lecture only made me feel like more of a failure.

The quiet snickers and darting glances followed me everywhere in this new department. They didn't need to be loud; their subtlety was its own sharp weapon. Even sitting at my desk, I felt the weight of the gossip curling around me like smoke,impossible to ignore. My stomach churned, though whether it was the morning sickness or the embarrassment, I couldn't say.

I focused on my screen, willing myself to appear unbothered, when a familiar voice broke through the low hum of conversation.

"Beth."

I looked up, startled. Will stood at the edge of my cubicle, holding a paper bag from the deli down the street. My heart leapt and sank at the same time. Him being here wasn't helping the gossip, but seeing him, even like this, was the one bright spot in an otherwise gray day.

"Will," I said, keeping my tone as professional as I could. "What are you doing here?"

He smiled softly and held up the bag. "I was in the area and thought you might want something warm to eat. It's cold out, and I know you sometimes forget to grab lunch."

The gesture tugged at something deep in me. Will had always paid attention to the little things, even when we weren't supposed to be…whatever we were. I glanced at the bag, then back at him, my resolve softening despite myself.

"Thank you," I said, taking the bag and setting it gently on my desk. "But you really shouldn't have come here."

He tilted his head slightly, studying me. "I shouldn't be checking on someone I care about?" His voice was soft, but there was a weight to his words that made my chest tighten.

"People are already talking," I murmured, not quite meeting his gaze. "You don't want to make it worse."

"I don't care what they're saying," he said simply. "What matters is you."

My stomach fluttered, and I fought the urge to look away again. His presence was like a balm and a fire all at once, soothing and overwhelming in equal measure.

He cleared his throat, his tone shifting slightly. "Beth, I know this isn't easy. And I know things feels…fragile right now. But I want you to know that I'm not going anywhere. I'm committed to helping Abby see what I see in you. How smart and kind and incredible you are."

The sincerity in his voice threatened to unravel me. I swallowed hard, trying to keep my emotions in check. "Will, that means a lot. But you know as well as I do that Abby might never see things that way."

"She will," he said firmly. "But even if it takes time, I want to spend it with you. Come to dinner. Just me and Abby. Let's start there."

I hesitated, his offer tugging at the part of me that still believed in happy endings. "Okay," I said softly. "But on one condition."

His brows furrowed. "Name it."

"If Abby still can't accept this—accept me—we have to consider that it might not work. I won't come between you and her."

His expression darkened, but his eyes stayed on mine. "I can't accept that, Beth. I won't lose you."

---