Page 44 of Secret Twins for My Ex's SEAL Best Friend

I pretended everything was normal while I waited in line, while I packed the groceries into the car, while I drove home, and while I put everything away. I pretended everything was normal as I microwaved a cup of instant noodles, the smell of sodium and chicken broth filling the kitchen.

I pretended everything was normal as I peed on a stick. On a second stick. A third. Fourth. Fifth. Sixth. Seventh. Eighth.

I pretended everything was normal when the microwave dinged, signaling my noodles were ready, and while I scarfed them down over the sink, dread coiling in my stomach alongside the salty broth.

And then, finally, I stopped pretending.

Sighing heavily, I walked over to the bathroom counter. My hands were trembling, and my heart felt like it was beating in my throat.

I caught my reflection in the mirror. My hair was stringy from not washing it that morning, and my face was bare—no makeup to hide how pale I looked. My lips were dry and lifeless, drained of color by the fear coursing through me.

Swallowing hard, I glanced down at the tests.

All eight of them said the same thing.

Pregnant.

I gasped, even though I’d already known.

I was pregnant with Robert Hastings’ baby—the man who had made it clear what he thought of me by kicking me out after sex, the man who had told me I was reckless, and that I was debasingmyself by working as a bottle girl, the man who had convinced my ex to dump me.

I was also pregnant with Robert Hastings’ baby—the man with disarming green eyes and strong arms, the man who saved me when I was in trouble, the man who kissed me with the passion of a lover from a past life, and the man who told me my problems mattered to him.

There were two very different versions of Robert. And I didn’t know which one I was having this baby with.

But one thing was for sure. This wasn’t a dream. The baby was real.

Iwaspregnant.

twenty

Robert

“Daddy, let’s go in there!” Corinne shouted excitedly, jumping and pointing at an antique store. She was eyeing the vintage dresses in the window, which I could already tell I’d be walking out with.

“Corinne, we’re here for dishware,” I told her, half sternly, looking down the sidewalk at the rest of the stores at the outdoor mall.

My daughter pouted, knowing that it always worked on me, and I sighed while rolling my eyes. She started walking inside confidently, aware that she’d won before I even took a step.

“Look, there’s dishware here,” Corinne teased, running her fingers along a few China plates on display.

“When you’re right, you’re right,” I told her, allowing her to grab my hand and pull me deeper into the store through the narrowaisles that just begged for someone to run into something priceless and send it smashing to the floor.

“Ooh, what about these?” She held up some ceramic cookware with gold leaf and sage green flowers painted onto them. The set of six had scalloped edges and were, admittedly, beautiful. I tried to discreetly check the tags and saw that they were worth quite a few lines of families shopping for Thanksgiving dinner.

“Sure, those are pretty. We can get those and get out of here,” I told her, antsy in the close quarters of the store. I glanced over at the woman working the counter. She was staring me down over the rims of her narrow, cat eyeglasses.

“Wait, what about these?” Corinne held up some pink stoneware with handles on the side.

“Rin-Rin, we’re not taking them home, you know that, right? We’re going to leave them at the food bank.”

“So? They should still be pretty.”

“I guess you’re right,” I relented, smiling and taking them from her hands. “They should still be pretty.”

“Thank you, Daddy.” She smiled her sweet smile, and even as I smiled back, the thought was at the back of my head that she was going to really have me around her finger in her teenage years.

I went to the front to pay for the items, anxious to get out of the store, when I glanced over at Corinne and saw her standing in front of a vanity.

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