Page 63 of About That One Night
“Fine, all is fine,” I insist.
“You’re a terrible liar,” he persists. “You don’t look well, and you know what—” He opens the car door and pulls me to him. “I’m not letting you drive home.”
“I can’t leave my car here,” I protest weakly.
“One of my guys will take care of it,” he says firmly as he closes the window and turns off the car.
He grabs my hand and leads me to an underground garage where his car is parked. He’s all gentlemanly, opening doors and being so attentive it almost makes me forget my worries.
The drive is quiet, and my mind wanders back to that night with him. Max. It was supposed to be a one-time thing, a momentary lapse in judgment fueled by too much Fiji and not enough alcohol. There’s also the loneliness that comes with being perpetually single in your thirties. But now, that one night has turned into something else entirely.
I’m pregnant, and the father is a man I don’t know well enough. A man who, despite our time together, is only part of my life during social occasions.
And that’s just the tip of the iceberg. I don’t have a job, just a business that has two clients, and only one of them is paying. God, I never thought I’d find myself in this situation. Not now, not like this.
“Everything can be fixed,” Max assures me.
Really? Because this can’t be just fixed. I should tell him, shouldn’t I? He has a right to know. But the thought of saying something and looking at his reaction makes my stomach churn. I can call him later though. But picking up the phone, saying the words out loud . . . I can’t.
What if he doesn’t want this? He definitely doesn’t want this; I know that for a fact. I place a hand on my stomach, feeling protective toward this child.
There’s no way I’m telling Max and letting him reject my baby. And what if he thinks I did this on purpose, to trap him or something? I know it’s irrational, but the fear is there, gnawing at my insides.
And even if he does want to be involved, what then? We barely know each other, and now we’re supposed to, what, raise a child together? The idea is so absurd it almost makes me laugh. Almost.
No, I can’t tell him. Not until I’ve had time to process this, to figure out what I want to do. I need to make it on my own terms.
For now, I’ll keep this to myself. I’ll act like everything is normal and try to wrap my head around this new reality. And when the time is right, when I’m ready . . . then I’ll decide what to do next.
Max parks the car and walks me to my apartment, ever the gentleman. My thoughts swirl as wewalk. Should I tell him now? How would he react? What if he sees this as a burden?
We reach my door, and I fumble with my keys, my mind racing. Max stands close, watching me with those intense eyes that seem to see right through me.
“Zoe,” he says softly, and I look up, my heart pounding.
“Yeah?” My voice comes out a whisper.
“You sure you’re okay?” His concern is palpable, and it makes my chest tighten.
“I’ll be fine,” I manage to say, forcing a smile. “Thanks for the ride, Max.”
He hesitates, then nods. “Anytime. You know where to find me if you need anything.”
I watch as he walks away, my heart aching with the weight of everything I’m not saying. Once he’s out of sight, I step inside my apartment and close the door, leaning against it for support.
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Maximillian
I arrive at the bistro,the same one I go to almost every day because it’s only a short walk from the offices of my security agency. It’s funny that I’m meeting Zoe here because this is where we first met. Lily, her sister, was giving her the play-by-play about her plan to travel across the country to figure out her past . . . or something like that. I can’t help but reminisceabout it.
As I approach our table, I notice Zoe’s hands trembling slightly as she grips a mug, her knuckles turning white. She avoids my gaze, staring intently at the wisps of steam rising from her cup. This is unlike her. Zoe is usually so confident, so self-assured. It reminds me of our meeting last week when she was outside the medical office, sitting in her car staring at nothing. It was like she had gotten some life-changing news—a life-or-death sentence.
It scared me so fucking much. I wish she had told me what was going on with her so I could help. That she hadn’t just shut me out from her life. She’s important to me and now . . . it’s like she pushed me into a different dimension where I can’t be near her.
At least she called me to tell me what’s happening to her. I’m ready to be who she needs me to be. We’ll find the best doctors to treat whatever condition she has. I won’t lose her. I know there’s always hope, isn’t there?
I sit down across from her, the familiarity of the bistro bringing a small sense of comfort. “Hey, Zoe,” I say softly, trying to catch her eye.
