Page 65 of The Fake Affair

His eyes meet mine. “Everything.”

EIGHTEEN

FULL CIRCLE

Logan

Six Months Later

“You’re in my light.”

I move aside as Bella adjusts the mockup on her office wall. Her new downtown space with exposed brick and floor-to-ceiling windows suits her perfectly.

“Better?” I ask.

“Much.” She steps back to examine her work, one hand resting on her rounded belly. “What do you think?”

“About the mockup or about how gorgeous you look running your own company?”

“Flirt.” But she’s smiling. “The campaign, Logan. For the tech startup?”

I study the design. It’s innovative and fresh—exactly what drew me to her professional talents in the first place. “They’d be idiots not to love it.”

“Good, because they’re your competitors.” Her eyes sparkle with mischief. “And they’re offering better terms than Monarch Ventures.”

“Minx.” I pull her close, careful of her bump. “Using my teachings against me?”

“Learned from the best.” She kisses me quickly, then returns to her desk. “Now go away. I have a meeting in twenty minutes.”

“Dinner tonight?”

“Can’t. Birthing class.”

My stomach tightens, but I force a nod. After months of therapy, I can handle hospitals now—mostly. The classes are still hard, but watching Bella master each technique and seeing her confidence elevate helps.

“Logan?” She must see something in my face. “We can skip?—”

“No.” I’m firm on this. “I’ll pick you up at seven.”

* * *

The hospital corridorsstill smell the same—that antiseptic cleanness that haunted my childhood. But tonight, following Bella into the maternity ward, something’s different.

“Mr. Fraser?” Our instructor smiles warmly. “Ready to practice breathing techniques?”

Six months ago, I couldn’t even look at a hospital without panicking. Now, I sit behind Bella, letting her lean against my chest as we practice labor positions. My chest only tightens a little when the instructor demonstrates fetal monitoring.

“You’re doing great,” Bella whispers during a break.

“I have excellent motivation.” I rest my hand on her stomach, feeling our daughter kick.

The instructor brings out a birthing video. My throat tightens, but Bella’s fingers lace through mine.

“Tell me about her room again,” she says quietly, distracting me as the video plays.

I focus on her voice instead of the medical equipment on screen. “Sage green walls. Built-in bookshelf for all the stories we’ll read to her. The rocking chair by the window?—”

“How sweet of you to ship it from Edinburgh, Logan.”

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