Page 78 of Her Ex's Father
“You’ve been doing things for me Ben, it just took me a while to see. It’s a different love language than what I wanted, but it’s yours. I get it now, that you were trying to give me a path forward, a life of my own.”
“You don’t have to do it. Take the job. It’s set in motion now, everything under marketing and PR will be one department with one head, but we can find someone?—”
“No. I want to do it.”
Her hand sweeps down to the curve of her belly. Mine joins it automatically.
“Maybe not until this little one is settled in, but…” she smiles, the turn of her lips lighting up a warm ache inside of me. “I’d like that, I think. It’ll be challenging.
Her thumbs brush away tears I didn’t know were falling. “Don’t let them poison what we have.”
“What we have,” I echo, my voice breaking.
“Yes.” Her lips press to mine, soft and tentative, but real.
I cling to her like a drowning man. The kiss deepens, heat blooming between us, forgiveness and desperation tangled together. Her hands slide into my hair, my arms circle her waist, and for the first time in days, I feel the distance between us close.
“Maddie,” I murmur against her mouth.
She presses closer. “Don’t let me go.”
I lift her onto the desk, ignoring the sound of pens rolling and papers wrinkling. The skirt of her dress hikes up easily, her heat warmer somehow, hotter when I reach for it and she moans into my mouth. Guilt and grief blur into hunger, need, love.
We shed our clothes as if they were shackles. My mouth finds hers, her gasp catches in my throat, and the world narrows to the press of her body against mine, the frantic way she pulls me closer, the desperate insistence that this—here, now—is real.
It’s not gentle. It’s not perfect. It’s raw, ragged, the clash of two people breaking and binding at the same time.
When it’s over, we’re barely holding ourselves upright. I scoop her closer, help her stand, her hand splayed over the place where my heart still pounds.
For the first time in years, the past doesn’t choke me. It fades beneath the warmth of her, replaced by something new. Something alive.
I thread my fingers through her hair and press a kiss to her crown.
“I don’t deserve you,” I whisper.
“You deserve to be happy,” she says softly.
Her words sink into me, foreign and fragile. Maybe she’s right. Maybe Georgiana’s choice wasn’t my crime. Maybe Maddie is more than a second chance—maybe she’s salvation.
The future is coming. And I want to believe that love will be enough to survive it.
Chapter 29
Maddie
The first thing I notice when I wake is the quiet.
No snoring, no steady breath beside me, no weight of an arm draped heavy across my waist. Just the sound of birds outside, the distantsnickof the gardener who keeps the grounds.
The space next to me in Ben’s bed is already cool, as though he’s been gone for hours. I roll onto my side, gathering the sheets closer, pulling his pillow against me like a substitute. It smells faintly of him—cedarwood and something darker, sharper, like smoke. It should comfort me. Instead, it makes my throat ache.
Last night was… something I can’t even name. Desperate, tender, ragged at the edges. The kind of night that felt like both breaking and healing at once. He told me about Georgiana. About her illness, her choice. About the guilt that’s hollowed him out all these years. And I told him it wasn’t his fault, even though I know he doesn’t believe me yet. We clung to each other like two drowning people sharing a single piece of driftwood.
For the first time in weeks, I thought maybe—maybe—we’d found a crack of light between all the shadows.
But now the bed is empty.
I sit up slowly, wincing at the stiffness in my lower back. The pregnancy aches are worse in the mornings, before I’ve had a chance to move around. My body feels like it belongs to someone else these days—heavier, slower, restless. I press a hand against the swell of my belly, whispering softly,“Good morning, little one.”
