Page 51 of Accidental Groom
He huffs a quiet breath, almost a chuckle, but dampened. “No,” he says. “She didn’t.”
I roll my lips together, tempted to reach out to him, to drag my fingers along the stubble on his jaw or feel the softness of his hair. But I don’t. “Can I askyousomething?”
“You’ve asked me a handful of things already.”
I crack a small grin. “Another thing, then.”
He gestures for me to continue.
“Do you think she’d be upset with you?” I ask, regretting it almost immediately. “For what we’ve done.”
“Ooh, that’s dangerous territory,” he warns, but his lips have curved up at the corners, just slightly. “You’ll have to be more specific. Which thing, exactly? Marrying the woman who was meant to be my daughter-in-law? Marrying againat all? Sleeping with you? Getting you pregnant?”
I let out a startled laugh. “All of the above.”
He chuckles softly, pushing the damp strands of hair back from his face. “No,” he says, “I don’t think she’d be upset with me. At least, not for all of it. It’s not as if I intended to do it, you know? Being a father again wasn’t really in the plan. Especially not like this.”
I snort. “Because it went so well the first time?”
He shoots me a playful glare, and something twists in my stomach — not with nausea this time, but something different, something human. “George was supposed to be it. My heir, my legacy. And then he turned into a self-important jackass with a passport addiction and no spine, so who knows, maybe this is my redemption.”
“Do you think this one will turn out the same?”
He shrugs. “Don’t know. Maybe. But I know it wouldn’t be your fault if it does.”
I grin softly at him, watching the way his chest rises and falls, the way he’s here so casually, like we haven’t been tiptoeingaround each other for two months. “Just to be clear, I… I don’t expect anything from you,” I say. “I know we’re not — you know, this wasn’t supposed to happen. And I know there’s still talk of an annulment or divorce or whatever works once George?—”
“Matthew’s still working on that. Haven’t heard a goddamn word, though.”
“What do we do? If he shows up, if he comes back.”
His mouth opens, poised to say the practiced thing, the thing we’ve been saying for months. But he hesitates, swallows, looks at me. “I don’t know,” he admits. “But I’d let you decide.”
It’s not what I expected him to say, but it feels like a gift. My fingers twitch at the surface of the water, little ripples spanning out from them, and I watch them instead, my cheeks warming. “I don’t want to marry him,” I answer.
Silence.
“I mean — in case there was any confusion there, or doubt. If I have a say, I’m not doing it. I don’t care what my parents want, I don’t care if he grovels or brings a goddamn parade. That ship’s sunk and every person on board has been eaten by sharks.”
He lets out an amused, breathy laugh. “Yeah, I figured as much.”
“But,” I pause, meeting his gaze again. “I think we need to be honest about this. You and me. With ourselves.”
He doesn’t look away. “What do you mean?”
I take a deep breath, trying to find the right words, combing through them to string something decent together. “We didn’t get married for love, we did it for damage control,” I say carefully. “Your plan was clear — dissolve it once George reappears and gets his act together.”
“I know.”
“And I meant what I said about keeping it,” I add. “But I’m not expecting ahappily ever after, Harry. Just because I’m pregnant doesn’t mean we have to pivot if you don’t want to.”
His jaw works like the cogs are turning in his mind, but he nods. “I know,” he repeats. “If I’m being honest, I don’t know what the best plan of action is here. But whatever it ends up being, I won’t leave you alone in this. I know that much. I’m not going to vanish, or pass you off to the lawyers, or battle custody. We’ll figure something out. Whatever you need.”
Something heavy lifts from my chest, leaving me lighter, calmer. But the words themselves weigh me back down the longer I sit on them, the softness in them doing something to me.
It should bother me — him being this nice, this accommodating, thiscaring. But it doesn’t. I’ve avoided him half because I wanted to sleep with him and half because he’s incredibly good at being an asshole, but right now, he’s not being an asshole at all.
It’s jarringly nice in a way I shouldn’t want.
