But the scent of this beautiful man next to me? That balanced everything out.
He opened the door to what looked like a small private break room and pulled out a chair for me to sit.
“Want something?” he asked, opening a mini fridge. “There’s soda, coffee, water.”
“Water is fine,” I said, though I wasn’t sure I could swallow anything right now.
He twisted the cap off and handed me a cold bottle of Fiji water. I took it and pressed it to the side of my neck—I seriously needed to cool off.
“It’s…” He smiled, stumbling over his words. “It’s good to see you, Dollface—” He winced. “Mahasin,” he corrected himself.
That nickname pulled out lustful thoughts I had no right to think.
“What’s Carrot Top’s nickname?” I asked, trying to sound casual but failing miserably.
“At this moment? Occupational hazard,” he muttered, rubbing the back of his neck.
“You look… You look beautiful, Mahasin. And not in a flirtatious way—you just… appear to be glowing.”
“Thank you.” I smoothed my curls, which suddenly felt like more hair than one head should manage.
Silence folded between us, thick and awkward. The words I had practiced for the past few days must’ve stayed in Amber’s car when we got out.
“Gage,” I began, my voice betraying me with a noticeable lack of confidence. I looked down at the floor. “There’s something I need to tell you.”
His once relaxed stance against the mini fridge turned into a military-like posture, straight and alert, as if he could feel the weight behind my tone.
“What’s wrong?” he asked, eyes narrowing with concern.
My hands began to tremble. I set the water down once I realized I was spilling it.
“Just know my goal wasn’t to ruin your day.”Or your life,I thought to myself. “I went to your penthouse first, but you weren’t home.”
Spill it, Mahasin—because you’re losing your nerve.
Drawing in a deep breath that gave me an instant headache, I said:
“I’m pregnant.”
For a few heartbeats, he didn’t react. Then he lowered the soda in his hand slowly to the table. His eyes searched mine, and I could see he was stunned. I wish there was a “haha, sike” at the end of my statement, but this shit was real life—for both of us.
“You serious?” he finally asked.
I nodded. “I’m about four months serious.”
He rubbed his forehead, and I could see the tension building in his body as he mustered up the courage to ask me a question that almost got him slapped.
“Is… is it—”
“It’s yours,” I said before he could finish. Attitude drenched every word. “I’m an OB-GYN, Gage. I possess a unique set of skills that enable me to accurately determine conception dates. I also haven’t been with anyone after you, or for at least a month and a half before you.”
He dragged his hand down his face and took a seat, staring at me like I was his biggest mistake. He started shaking his rightleg, and I pulled out my phone just in case I needed to send that 702 text to Amber.
“Damn,” he murmured, almost to himself. “Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”
“How could I? I left without your number and didn’t think we’d need to see each other again. And besides, I just found out not too long ago myself. I missed me missing several periods, and Amber noticed the change in me, so I took a test and—bam. Pregnant.”
“All of that sounds like your fault, Mahasin. You chose to sneak out of my crib without getting my number. You chose to have me for one night, when I would’ve given you a lifetime. And how the hell your smart ass miss all them damn periods—as an OB-GYN?”
