Page 54 of One Night With My Grumpy Professor Daddy

“Yes, Ava. I said I love you, and I’ll say it as many times as possible for you to believe it. Stop pushing me away. I want you. And I don’t care what I have to do to make that happen.” His grip on my hand tightens. “I love you, Ava, I love you, I love you.”

I know in my heart I feel the same for him, but I’m just not comfortable saying it when I know I’m keeping this secret from him. What I don’t say with words, I prove with my actions. I place my lips on his, hoping he can taste them on my tongue, and I lead him to the bedroom.

Chapter thirty-four

Drake

Ava smells like home.

And when I’m with her, I’m at peace. I look at her beautiful sleeping body and those beautiful eyes that looked at me through a hooded gaze while I slid deep inside her. Her lips all over me, and her face that twisted in ecstasy through the night makes me ready for more just thinking about it. Watching her chest rise and fall, I know I’d do anything for her. Ava lights me up, bringing me to an unfamiliar, peaceful place whenever we’re together. She’s kind, smart and beautiful.

And I love her.

With that thought, I slip out of bed, being careful not to wake her, and head to the kitchen to surprise her with breakfast in bed. There’s something intimate about cooking for her, and It feels good to do something that’ll make her happy. Maybe it’ll shake some of that nervous tension she’s been dealing with. I brew some coffee, relishing the rich aroma that fills the air. Although I’m a bit slow getting around her kitchen, I make do, ready to kickstart the day.

I hope she doesn’t mind me mucking up the place.

Just as I finish poaching the eggs, I hear the door open—my heart skips a beat, like a teenager trying to impress his crush. I wish she would’ve stayed asleep longer so that I could’ve surprised her. But now that she’s up, I’ll just set the table, and we’ll eat together. I head in the direction of the footsteps. Halfway down the hall, I freeze. It occurs to me if Ava were coming, she wouldn’t have come through the front door but from the bedroom. Which means it isn’t her. Cautiously, I head to the source of the sound, and when I see who it is, I stop short. It feels like I’m looking directly at Ava, but not quite. Hair tied back neatly in a low ponytail, eyes big and brown, but with a stern gaze. I’ve seen too much of Ava not to place two and two together.

“Mrs. Miller?” I ask cautiously, even though my answer is staring me right in the face. Within seconds, a flood of emotions appears to cover her face, from shock to disbelief to disappointment, then replaced again with a stern gaze.

“Drake Armstrong.” She spits my name like it’s some kind of poison, and I find myself recoiling at the emotion she expressed with just those two words. She doesn’t wait for me to respond—she just glares at me and says, “What the Hell are you thinking—she’s half your age.

“I know this is shocking to you, mam, and to be honest, I never planned it this way, but Ava’s stolen a piece of my heart, and what I feel for her is more real than I ever felt for anyone. I’ll do anything to prove my love and loyalty to her.” She eyes me up and down before saying.

“So, you’re taking responsibility.”

“For everything that’s happened between us, yes, I do.”

“And the baby?” My eyebrows crease because I don’t know what she’s talking about. My face must’ve revealed what I’m thinking because Mrs. Miller looks me dead in the eyes and says,

“She’s pregnant… Ava’s pregnant with your baby.”

Chapter thirty-five

Ava

Drake is gone.

I open my eyes and look at his side of the bed, cold and empty, just like my heart is starting to feel. Maybe while we were having sex, he noticed my slightly protruding tummy, realized I was pregnant and changed his mind about being with me. My heart flutters painfully in my chest, the gaze of sleep lifts, and I sit up in bed. Before more thoughts hit me, the strong smell of freshly brewed coffee hits. My spirit lifts. He’s probably just downstairs making himself a cup of coffee. I sit up like a child, slip into my fluffy home slippers, and tiptoe to the kitchen, hoping to surprise him. But as I near the kitchen, I hear muffled voices and hold on. Maybe he’s on the phone. Even better, I can surprise him because he won’t hear me coming. When I round the corner and end up in the living room, I don’t expect two pairs of eyes to lock on me.

“Mom?”

“You’re up.” Drake takes a step towards me, then stops. He looks down at my stomach, covered by a robe, and back at me.

He knows.

He licks his lips, eyeing me up and down. “Ava, are you?” I look from Drake to my mother—no sense hiding or lying at this point. “Yes, Drake,” I lower my eyes, embarrassed, “I’m pregnant.”

“Mine?” He stutters. I know he’s processing it all, so I answer.

“Yes, Drake. Yours. The moment holds for a second that feels like an eternity. Drake already has a daughter—one he’s raised by himself. If anyone knows the pressures and milestones that come with raising a child, it’ll be him. Would he want to do that again? And with me? I’m suddenly weak. I don’t want to be here and face the sting of his rejection. Neither do I want to break down in front of my mother. I turn around slowly and place one foot in front of the other when I’m lifted in the air.

“You’re… You’re pregnant!” Those words come from a distance because Drake is spinning me around.

“Yes!” I squeal. He turns me around so I’m facing him and spins us around again. I let out another squeal.

“Oh. Wait. Shit. You’re pregnant; I shouldn’t spin you that way.” He places me down. His eyes are iridescent, alight with emotion. His uncharacteristic joy is contagious.

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