Page 55 of Craving My Baby Daddy Billionaire

"I know he will," I say firmly. "We're here; we're going to take care of him. And we can stay as long as you need."

He frowns. "Are you sure? The White Oak..."

"I've been at the White Oak for years and have never once taken a day off," I laugh. "Please—let me do this for you."

Ryan smiles weakly. "Yeah, you're right. Come on, let me give you a tour."

He takes my hand and leads me through the house, showing me all the rooms and pointing out family photos on the walls. There's a large kitchen with an island, a big dining table, and a cozy den with a fireplace and a TV. The bedrooms are all upstairs, and they're all cozy and inviting. I can imaginespending lazy mornings in bed, listening to the birds chirping outside and reading a good book.

"This is the guest room," Ryan says, opening the door to a room with a big, fluffy bed and a window that overlooks the garden. "That's where we'll be staying."

"It's perfect," I say with a smile. "Thank you."

He looks at me, and I can feel the intensity of his gaze. "I'm glad you're here, Sophia. I don't know how I would have done this without you."

"You don't have to do it alone," I say softly, moving closer to him. "I'm here for you, Ryan. Always."

He smiles, and I can see the relief and joy on his face. For a moment, we just stand there, looking at each other, and then he steps forward and frames my face with his hands.

"I love you," he says softly.

He kisses me gently, then harder, and I get lost in the feel of him against me for a few brief moments. It doesn't take long for the dogs to move their play upstairs, though, and we laugh as their footsteps thunder across the wood floors.

"They need to be fed," he says. "And so do you. Want to go check out the offerings downstairs?"

I pull back, hanging onto Ryan's hand. "Sounds great."

We head back downstairs, the dogs following us eagerly. Ryan opens the fridge, pulls out a few different ingredients, and sets them out on the counter.

"How do you feel about mac and cheese?" he suggests, looking at me with a grin.

"Are you cooking for me?" I tease.

"I sure am," he says. "And this is my specialty. So, you sit that fine ass down and keep me company while I whip something up."

I take a seat and watch as he moves around the kitchen, boiling the pasta and grabbing some cheese and breadcrumbs.He's confident in his movements like he knows exactly what he's doing, and I can't help but admire how easily he handles himself in this kitchen. It's entirely different from his behavior in his own apartment—like he feels more at home here—and I start to put the pieces of this puzzle together in my mind.

"This place..." I murmur. "It feels like yours even more than your apartment."

He glances over at me. "Can I be honest with you?"

"Please do."

"I was twenty-five when they bought this place, and I imagined this life..." he pauses. "No, it's silly."

"Talk to me," I insist.

Ryan's jaw tenses, and then he shakes his head.

"I imagined this life," he says. "There was a time I thought my ex and I were going to get married, that we would have kids...and that one day, we would live here. Inherit the place, keep horses...I don't know."

"It's a beautiful dream," I say, my voice quiet.

I don't know quite what to say...because I can see it in vivid color. Ryan, as a dad, the two of us living in this beautiful house, me keeping a shop downtown.

It's so clear.

I should tell him I might be pregnant…that the future he imagined could be right around the corner.

---