Page 162 of Sugarloaf Ridge Lies

Chapter Fifty-Three

Liv

“Idon’t want anythingfrom you, Kurt.”

He combs his fingers through his light hair. “How did this even happen?”

I resist the urge to roll my eyes.I think you know how, buddy.“If I’m honest, I wasn’t planning on telling you. I just thought I’d do the decent thing and let you know.”

“After I saw your photo, I had a feeling but didn’t wanna believe it. I can’t un-know this. This changes everything.”

I swallow hard. “It won’t change anything for you.”

He snorts. “It will if my wife finds out.”

My jaw drops as“wife”bounces around my head. Acid burns in the back of my throat. “You’re married?” I screw my eyes shut.

What have I got myself into? Does he already have children? And if so, why was he out on the prowl?

“Hey,” he says in a soothing voice and places his hand on my shoulder. “That’s not on you.”

I scoff. “No shit. I had no idea.”

“Listen, I get that you’re having this baby, and good luck to you, but I can’t have any part in it. There’s too much at stake.”

A costly divorce I’m guessing. But I won’t be the cause of that. He’ll probably do that job all on his own.

“I can pay you,” he continues. “Lump sum. But this stays between us.”

I stand and wipe my damp palms on the edge of Jerry’s flannelette shirt. “I don’t want anything from you, money or otherwise. I’m happy. You go your way, and I’ll go mine.”

He stands, towering over me. “It’s that simple, huh?”

I tilt my neck to meet his gaze. “I’m not trying to make it complicated.”

Kurt licks at his lower lip. “So, you’re saying if I walk away, we never had this conversation. We never met.”

The only good thing that came out of our chance encounter is the growing life inside of me.

I offer him a soft smile. “I guess so.”

He tilts his head and regards me. “You’re not gonna come after me one day, and try screw me for child support?”

I look up to the darkening sky and exhale. “No. Money isn’t a problem.”And even if it was, I don’t want it from you.

Kurt’s gaze sweeps to the rusted tin on the veranda. His brows bunch together as if he doesn’t believe me.

He pulls his phone from his inside jacket pocket and taps at the screen. “If I get my lawyer to draft something up, you’ll sign it?”

“Sure.” I wouldn’t want to see you part with any of your precious money. Which has no doubt failed to bring you happiness if you’re out at bars screwing around on yourwife. Urgh.

We exchange phone numbers and email addresses. I don’t know what the hell his lawyer is going to put together, but I’ll entertain him.

He puts his hand on my shoulder and strolls down the garden path towards his shiny black car.

The father of my child.

My heart pangs at the thought of Jerry, the years he felt lost, not knowing where he came from, his heritage.

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