But nothing comes. Just stunned silence.
"Donovan," I say, my voice breaking, "say something. Please."
He opens his mouth… and nothing comes out.
That's when I realize.
That I've just detonated a bomb in the middle of Donovan Mitchell Titan’s perfect event. His perfect AI product launch. His perfect life.
And he's not ready.
Hell, the man made it this far without ever having kids. He was engaged before, according to Riley and Sasha’s Google searches. And if it didn’t happen then, with that woman, then…
Maybe he never wanted to be a father.
So I turn and take off, gripping the silk at my thighs to give my shoes room to turn.
"Emma, wait—"
But I'm already gone.
I push through the terrace door, heart pounding, heels echoing against the floor as I move past the party, past the questions in Carmen’s eyes, past the congratulations and clinking glasses.
I find the exit and push outside, breath heaving in the warm NYC night air.
"Robert!" I call out, spotting the driver leaning against the town car, fiddling with his phone.
He looks up, startled. "Ms. Sinclair? Are you alright?"
"Can you take me home? Now?"
"Of course." He scrambles to open the door, glancing over his shoulder, clearly trying to figure out what just happened, and I slide in, pulling the door shut just as footsteps echo behind me.
“Emma—” Donovan’s voice cuts through the night, desperate and raw.
I don’t turn around.
Robert pulls away from the curb, and I stare out the window, blinking hard against the tears.
Behind me, through the tinted glass, I see Donovan step into the street—handsome as ever. And just asecond too late.
In the rearview mirror, I watch him fade into the city lights, the soft hum of Manhattan and the car’s tires drowning out the sound of my name coming from his lips.
Chapter fourteen
~DONOVAN~
The pavement pummels back, unforgiving and wet beneath my running shoes.
Saturday morning in the Upper East Side of Manhattan brings a haze of humidity that hangs in the air like a warning. As I turn the corner around the Park, I realize that my shirt is soaked through, my chest heaving like I’m being chased.
In a way, I am being chased. By two words, ten letters, and one woman.
“I’m pregnant.”
And I know without a doubt in my mind that if I don’t keep running, I’ll end up at Emma’s apartment.
No phone call. No apology. Just breaking down the damn door.
