Page 76 of Finding Forever

“How much damage can Abernathy’s baseless claims do?” he wondered out loud.

“I’d rather not find out, Niall,” his father said, his voice brooking no argument. “I want to lay any and all speculation about this marriage to rest right now. That means interviews. Itmeans going on Mike Holmes’s show and being a charming bastard and showing the world how happy and in love you are with your pregnant bride.”

Aah,fuck.

“Petra can send me the details and I’ll discuss it with Fern,” Cade hedged.

“Niall…” More uncharacteristic hesitation in the old man’s voice. “How is it all going with her? If she’s pregnant that means there’s some chemistry, aye? So maybe it’s not all that cold-blooded and passionless?”

Just yesterday, Cade would’ve disagreed with that assessment, but after last night, he couldn’t honestly claim that there was no desire or chemistry between them. He recalled her face when she’d admitted toburningfor him and swallowed to lubricate his suddenly parched throat.

“It doesn’t matter,” he negated hoarsely. “This isn’t permanent.”

“But the bairn…”

“The baby is Fern’s. She’s the one who wants it. I won’t be a part of the child’s life. None of us will be, so it’s best to not get too attached.”

“Ye’re talking about my first grandchild, Niall,” his father’s accent thickened on the outraged words and Cade winced, dropping his forehead into his palm, feeling defeated and helpless.

“It’s better if you never think of it as such.”

“F’get what I said about this not being passionless, that’s the most cold-blooded fookin’ drivel I’ve ever heard.”

Fern—rejuvenatedafter her shower—exited her room with a spring in her step. She spotted Cade immediately on the patio, straddling one of the loungers and her smile widened as shemade her way to him, intent on asking him if he wanted some lunch.

It was only as she drew closer to the open sliding door that she finally noticed that something was amiss. He was sitting upright with his phone pressed to his ear. His body language was unusual—almost defeated—shoulders hunched, head bowed, forehead pressed into his palm.

She stopped dead in her tracks when she heard her name.

“Fern doesn’t expect me to be a part of her child’s life,” he was saying, the low words floating toward her clear as day through the open doors. “And quite frankly, that suits me fine. Once these three years are up, we’re better off just never seeing each other again. I don’t want to be a husband, or a father, and she’s not the type of woman I ever imagined myself settling down with.”

He paused for a moment, listening and then sighed, an impatient gust of breath exhaled through his nostrils.

“That’s not what I meant. Yes, at first I was thrown by her—I don’t know how to say it—sheer lack of anything resembling color. I still don’t understand what drew me to her that first time. She was pale, quiet, and faded into the background. Maybe that was it, I was intrigued by her chameleon-like ability to almost disappear from view. She reminded me of a little moth, pale, gray…” Fern’s hand went to her mouth in horror as she listened. Every word making her feel as small and insignificant as the moth to which he was likening her.

He was still talking, his voice almost a whisper now. “Soft. She looked soft. And fragile. And everything I’ve learned about her since has reinforced that first impression. Sheissoft and fragile. And she’s latched onto this baby like it’s some sort of saving grace. It’s given her purpose. An excuse to finally crawl out from under Abernathy’s bootheel. I’m just the sperm donor.”

He listened again.

“Aye, I’m okay with that. Fern and her baby can’t and won’t ever mean anything to me. It’s impossible.” The words were terse, unequivocal, and spoken in a frigid, uncompromising tone.

He shifted slightly and Fern went still, like a small animal terrified of being spotted by a predator. She took a few steps back, needing to retreat before he saw her here. Before he realized that she’d overheard every humiliating word. She wanted to spare them both the inevitable awkwardness that would follow.

When she was about halfway across the room, she swung on her heel and scurried back to her room. Feeling like a spineless little coward he already believed she was, but really not in any mood to put on a brave face right now. Not when she felt devastated and irrationally betrayed.

So stupid, she knew the man harbored no tender feelings for her. So, they’d had sex. And it had been amazing.

So what?

Fern had already resolved that it wouldn’t happen again. She knew he was bad for her. So why did confirmation of that fact sting—no damn it, not anything so mild as sting… thishurt—so badly?

She still had her pride and hearing his opinion of her was humiliating. So much for all his talk about her being brave for outmaneuvering Granger. He’d clearly only said it to stroke her ego a little and keep her compliant and content.

Feeling sick she staggered her way to the bathroom and heaved up the sparse contents of her stomach, before shakily rinsing her mouth and face. She stood for a while, palms curved over the edge of the sink, staring at her miserable reflection.

She didn’t want to be here. She didn’t want to spend another day in her husband’s strained company. But her options were as limited now as they’d ever been.

He might have protested and been offended when she’d claimed to have swapped one master for another but the reality was, Fern was once again desirable only for what she could offer. As an individual with opinions and feelings? Not so much.

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