Page 55 of Falling for You Again

“Then you don’t know my son.”

I didn’t stand up for myself when I’d been with Paul because I’d been so enamored with him and awed that somebody wanted me and I didn’t want to jeopardize the relationship. I’ve rarely stood up for myself or confronted my parents and their disinterest in me out of fear I’d push them further away. But something about Kaye diminishing Aaron’s credibility makes me want to speak up.

“I have no interest in Aaron’s wealth, and I don’t want any part of your family’s business.”

“Do you love him?”

“What?”

“I don’t think you do. How could you possibly? You don’t know him. You don’t know anything of our family. You say you aren’t interested in what we have, but you can’t guarantee that won’t change. I’m not concerned about how you feel or what you think today. I’m preparing for tomorrow.” She taps the tablet and the screen lights up. “Sign this, please. I insist,” she orders.

I have no intention of signing anything. But I take the device from her, curious what she’s giving me, which turns out to be apostnuptial agreement. I skim the document’s legalese. I pause on the noncompete clause. According to that, I can’t start or pursue any business venture that would compete with the Savant House or any of its holdings. They’ve absorbed multiple shops like Artisant Designs, so would this preclude me from buying the shop if the Savant House retracts its offer?

I read through more of the agreement. The Borland family would control my public image. My presence would be required at all family and corporate functions. There’s even a timeline for producing an heir.

An heir?

Unexpected laughter bubbles up my throat. I clap a hand over my mouth.

“Something funny?”

“It’s just ... You don’t really expect me to sign this?”

“I didn’t come all this way for you not to.”

“I ... I can’t sign this.”

“I suggest you reconsider.”

Her condescending tone and sense of entitlement push me to do the exact opposite. “No, thanks. Sorry you wasted your time.” I open the door, anxious to leave.

“You know,” Kaye says before I exit the car, “you aren’t the first horrible mistake Aaron’s made.”

I look at her from across the seat. “I may not be your choice of a spouse for Aaron,” I tell her, my voice frosting over, “but I trust your son’s judgment. I ...” I stall. I don’t want to say that I feel like I do love him. I can’t admit that to her before Aaron. Before I’ve thoroughlyprocessed and evaluated and picked apart exactly what I’m feeling for her son. A trimmed, silver brow peeks above her Chanel glasses. “I admire him,” I concede. “He’s charismatic, ambitious, honest, reliable. He believes in me. Your postnup?” I nod at the tablet I left on the seat. “It’s an insult to his intelligence. I wish I could say it’s been a pleasure meeting you, but we both know it hasn’t been. Excuse me, I have to get to work.”

“You’ll find the agreement has been emailed to you. Think on what could happen if you don’t sign it.”

Her threat chases me from the car. Sheesh, she’s something else. I wouldn’t dare sign it without having an attorney read over the document, let alone discuss it with Aaron first. But I also have no idea how my signing, or not signing, would impact Aaron. Goodness, I’d be committing us to having a baby within a year.

“Have a good day, Mrs. Borland,” Kaye’s driver says to me. He shuts the door and rounds the Escalade to the driver’s side. He pulls into traffic as my phone buzzes.

“I just met your mother,” I say to Aaron when I answer.

“That’s why I’m calling. I’m on my way. Don’t let her bully you into anything.”

“Too late. She already left.” I hear an uneasy warble in my voice from the adrenaline rush. “You don’t need to come.”

“I’m already here.”

I look up and a blue Mercedes rounds the corner and stops in front of me. Aaron is behind the wheel.

“I didn’t know you had a car,” I say when he meets up with me on the sidewalk. He pulls me into a hug. His arms feel so good around me.

“I came as soon as I heard. Charlie told me our mom was coming here to meet with you. Are you okay?”

“She wanted me to sign a postnup.” I give him the highlights of what I read in the agreement.

“Did you sign it?” he asks, horrified.

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