Page 55 of Irreplaceable

CHAPTERTHIRTEEN

Icouldn’t help myself; I laughed. He wanted me?

I’d come here for closure—to rip off the Band-Aid, as Juliana had suggested. Partially for myself, but more for the child I was carrying. I needed to satisfy my conscience that I’d done everything I could to foster a relationship with their father—for his or her sake.

“Uccellina,” Enzo said in a stern tone. “Do you think I’m joking?”

What he was was deluded. I was still upset about the things he’d said, about the way he’d made me feel both last night and that last morning in Bali. He might want me, but he damn sure couldn’t have me. I didn’t care how famous or rich or sexy he was.

And god, was he sexy. I snapped my gaze to his, trying to ignore the fact that he was shirtless and his hair was deliciously mussed. I mean—seriously? How was I supposed to have a rational conversation about parental rights with all those muscles and tattoos staring me in the face?

I’d thought about this conversation a million times, and it had never gone like this. It wasn’t as if I’d expected Enzo to be excited about the pregnancy, but to accuse me… My eyes stung as rage churned hot inside my chest, worse than any of the dreadful pregnancy heartburn I’d experienced.

I hated that I’d allowed him to rile me so much—again. I wanted to punch him in his stupidly handsome face.

I took a deep breath. “We—” I gestured between us “—don’t have a relationship apart from co-parenting this child. And even that’s debatable.”

“Harper.” His tone was sharp. “I’m the baby’s father. Of course I’ll be involved.”

“Right.” I stared at the coffee table, though I didn’t relax. How was this even going to work? What if he decided not to transfer to LA? Or what if one of us later wanted to move? Or met someone else? “Of course.”

He frowned. “Do you not want me to be involved?”

“No.” I shook my head. “I mean, I don’t know.”

Even from my online research last night, Enzo’s life seemed complicated. And I never wanted my child to feel as though their father thought they were an obligation. Or made them question his love.

In truth, I wasn’t sure what I wanted from Enzo. I wasn’t sure I trusted him.

“You’re not doing this alone. I’m here, and I’m going to help.”

“But are you? Here, I mean. Have you signed with the Leatherbacks?”

“No, but I’m going to.”

“If you’re doing this for the baby, don’t—”

“I’m doing this for us.”

I squeezed my eyes shut briefly, measuring my words. “I’d like to try to be friends for the baby’s sake,” I said, not wanting to get into another argument. “But there’s nothing between us.”

“Because of Crew?”

“What?” I jerked my head back. “No. We’re just friends.”

“Does he know that?”

I rolled my eyes and stood. I was done with this conversation. I wasn’t talking to Enzo about Crew. Though I did owe Crew an explanation.

“Uccellina.” That voice. The accent. It curled around me, digging in its hooks and reminding me of our time together in Bali. “I’m sorry for what I said.” He reached over and took my hand in his. “Truly. I know you would never do what I accused you of.”

“Which time?” I snapped, any remaining composure crumbling. “In Bali or this morning?” Because both were completely ridiculous.

He winced but then met my gaze, his expression contrite. “Both. I realize now that you didn’t know who I was. And even if you had, I know you wouldn’t have sold me out.”

I nodded but still wasn’t sure I trusted his words. When he’d tossed my camera over the balcony that morning in Bali, he’d shattered more than my equipment. And while he could buy me a new camera, rebuilding trust would take a lot longer.

Enzo had once told me that people were only nice when they had something to gain. At the time, I’d been saddened by his jaded outlook. But now, I wondered if that was what he was doing to me. Being nice because he had something to gain.

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