Page 99 of Filthy Rich Daddies
She’s been inching her way into this space. One breath at a time. Sometimes she leaves the door open now, just a crack. Sometimes she pauses, fingers brushing the frame.
Progress, like healing, is measured in inches.
I leave the room after a few minutes, moving quietly through the house. Colin’s in the kitchen, tapping through something on his tablet. Dean’s outside talking to the estate manager. I check my watch. It’s late afternoon.
I knock gently on her door.
“Come in,” she calls.
She’s lounging on the bed, belly cradled by three different pillows, wearing one of Dean’s T-shirts and a satin headwrap I don’t think I’ve seen before. She looks comfortable. Serene.
“You’re staring,” she says, a small smile playing on her lips.
“Just admiring.”
“You guys keep saying that, and I’m starting to think it’s a line.”
“Only when it’s true.” I sit beside her and rest a hand lightly on the slope of her belly. “How are they?”
“Kicking. A lot.” She shifts slightly. “I think they’re practicing for synchronized swimming.”
“Fitting.”
She laughs, and the sound fills the room like music. Then her smile softens, and her fingers find mine. “You okay?”
I nod, but slowly. “Can I tell you something?”
“Always.”
I watch the way her eyes hold mine—steady, unflinching. She doesn’t press. Just waits.
I had thought to keep all of this to myself. But thinking about her healing journey, I realize I might need one of my own.
“Serena didn’t make it this far,” I say. “Thirty weeks. That’s all we got.”
Her expression changes—not pity, but something deeper. Recognition. “You don’t talk about her much.”
“I think about her every day,” I admit. “But I haven’t spoken about her. Not really. Not until you.”
She tilts her head, her eyes searching. But she remains silent to let me speak.
“This is all new to me,” I continue. “Every day is a step into unknown territory. Every heartbeat, every kick from them, every time you laugh or complain about your back hurting…it’s more than I ever thought I’d get again.”
“You were scared.”
“I still am.”
She nods. “Me too.”
I reach for her hand. She lets me take it. “But I want to do this,” I say. “With you. With them. With Dean and Colin. All of it.” I pause. “There’s one other thing.”
“What?”
“The babies aren’t mine. Biologically. After I lost Serena, I had a vasectomy.”
She takes a deep breath. “That’s where you’re wrong.”
“No, I was there. I promise you, me and a bag of frozen peas were very intimate for a few days after that.”
