Page 82 of A Beginner's Guide to Forever
I try and fail not to notice the endearing way he cradles the baby in his big capable hands. The sight of them together has my chest constricting.
“It was sweet of you to come today, but you know it won’t work,” I say carefully.
“I know how I feel when I’m with you.”
“That aside, I still don’t believe ...” I don’t get to finish that sentence.
“I’m not letting you go without a fight. You want one of these?” He gazes down at the baby cradled in his arms. “Then let’s do it.”
Tears sting my eyes, and I blink them away. “You don’t mean that.”
“Why don’t I mean that?”
“Because you’re young, Hart, and you have many more years ahead of you to enjoy just being young and single without being tied down.”
Pressuring a man into having a baby simply because my eggs are hurtling toward their best-by date isn’t something I would ever do. It can’t work between us, and I wasted so many years of my life with Sean. I don’t want to make the same mistake twice, not when I no longer have the luxury of time on my side. No matter how we might feel about each other, I can’t deny our reality, even if Hart wants to. I remember his admission to Vaughn that night about whether or not he wantskids—someday, maybe.My someday is today. His might be ten years from now. Or possibly never.
Almost as if he can hear my wheels turning, he says, “If you’re going to have a meltdown, can you do it later? I’m kind of enjoying this.”
He strokes Cullen’s cheek again, and the baby lets out a happy little cooing sound. We hear Scarlet greet the first of the guests at the front door.
“Hart . . . ,” I begin gently.
“Let’s talk about this later,” he says, voice low, seeming to understand that I don’t want to cry right as a party is about to start.
I release a slow, shaky breath and nod.
I know it’s a little crazy, but I’m thankful he’s here with me. As the guests filter in, I realize everyone else is part of a couple. Scarlet’s parents are here, along with Will’s mom and stepdad. Her sister and her husband. Our friends Carol and Micah that I haven’t seen in forever. Everyone is friendly, and they only side-eye me a little about Hart’s age relative to my own. Or maybe it’s my imagination, who knows.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Fall in Love with Your Own Story
New York, New York
Back in New York I accept a check from the auction company and have a few more meetings before I’m scheduled to fly back to Nairobi, which happens tomorrow afternoon.
Since tonight is my last night in New York for who knows how long, Hart has convinced me to join him at his parents’ house for dinner before I leave. Since I find it very hard to say no to him, I agree.
My mouth lifts at the memory of him holding the baby, whispering tender encouragements. Things are hazy between me and Hart. It’s only been two days since I saw him, and already I miss him, which isn’t great for my resolve.
His family home is like a museum. It’s twenty minutes outside the city. Gated with a long private drive. A fountain out front that’s every bit as impressive as the fountains I admired during my last visit to Italy.
The driver stops in a parking area that contains a Tesla and a Range Rover, and I step out realizing that I don’t know what kind of car Hart drives.
The house is a formidable stone structure, and as I climb the front steps, I can’t help but consider Whit’s warning on the chairlift. About how Hart’s parents would not be accepting of me with their son.
But his father was more than kind to me about the whole media-fallout debacle. In fact, so was Hart. Maybe things like that didn’t rattle them like they did me. There had, of course, been countless articles written about the Winthrop family over the years. They must have learned to develop thick dragon skin or perhaps the art of ignoring the noise. It’s something I’m clearly still working on.
Needless to say, I’m nervous. But Hart and I aren’t together. I’m here because ...Why am I here?Because I find him very hard to stay away from.
The front doors open, and Hart is standing there with a wide smile. “You’re here.”
“I am.”
He looks incredibly put together in gray slacks and a black button-down shirt. A gleaming watch on his wrist. His eyes dance on mine, and he presses the briefest kiss to my lips before taking my hand and pulling me up the steps and into the foyer.
“Can I take your coat?” he asks.
