Aston picks up a crème puff with a chocolate glaze and takes a bite.
“You shouldn’t have done that.”
“But these are my favorites.” He stares down at the half-eaten crème puff in his hand, and I roll my eyes.
“That’s not what I meant. I meant we could have called him together.”
“I had to. He’s my best friend, and I married his baby sister. A baby sister he’s very protective of.”
“Right.” So his loyalties are forever to him and not me. Which explains everything. The marriage and the extra-level kiss for the cameras. “How will you appease him?”
“I’ll tell him I wouldn’t have done it unless it was necessary and to help you.”
I swallow and nod, pushing myself up onto the counter so I don’t have to look at him so directly. I don’t know why that bothers me, but it does, and it’s stupid. Aston isn’t my hero. I’m my hero. He’s simply the guy I’m using as my shield while I fight my own battles.
“I need to tell my family. My parents. Micha. Jesus, I need to tell my grandmother.”
“Can I not be in the room when you tell Octavia?”
My lips twist into a wry smile. “My grandmother is cooler than you think. Think of all the things my family has put her through over the years. All the scandals.”
“Octavia scares me. She’s not someone I’d ever want to upset or disappoint.”
I snort. “Take a number. She scares and charms everyone. That’s her superpower.” I pause. Hesitate. “Can I ask you something?”
“Sure,” he replies, finishing off the crème puff and closing the lid on the pastries.
“I need you to be very honest.”
His eyes meet mine. “Skylar, I feel like that’s something we both have to be with each other, so that’s how I’ll always be with you.”
Warmth rolls over me and makes me brave. “I don’t think I want to tell Josh the baby is his.”
He stands up to his full height and walks around the island until he’s pressed against the opposite counter from me. His hands clasp the stone, and he hoists himself up, the same way I did, but now there’s no escaping him. His eyes are directly on mine, and we’re face-to-face.
“That’s not a question.”
My head bobs, and I stare down at my hands. “It’s different. So different. I don’t know everything that happened with you and your ex, and you’re nothing like Josh. But, for a minute, can you try to imagine you’re him and she’s me?” I push out a breath and cover my face with my hands. “No. That isn’t right. I don’t know.” My hands hit my thighs, and I stare over at him. “I just need to know if that’s wrong or not. It doesn’t feel wrong. It feels safe and right, not just for me, but for the baby. But I also want to think that maybe the knowledge that he’s going to be a father will… snap him out of this and make him… I don’t know. A better man, maybe.”
“I can’t imagine my life without Zoey, and while my ex did a lot to hurt me, she gave me her and never made it so that I couldn’t see her whenever I wanted to. But I never hurt my ex. Not intentionally or even unintentionally. And I’d never ever hurt Zoey, which she knew. I can’t tell you what to do here, Skylar. This has to be your decision and your decision alone. But I will tell you that you have to follow your gut because your instincts are usually right.”
I had a feeling he was going to say that, and I obviously still have a lot of thinking to do on this. I don’t like the idea of keeping a father from his child. But I don’t like the idea of thatfather being dangerous to my child or using them like a weapon either.
I scrunch my nose at him. “We’re married.”
A lazy sort of smile curls his lips. “I have the band to prove it.” He holds up his left hand.
“Except it’s not real. We’re not even consummating it.”
That smile grows into something dark and sexy. Without a word, he hops off the counter, and suddenly he’s in front of me, his hands on either side of my thighs and his face inches away.
“Would it be real if I made my wife come?”
My breath hitches before I can stop it, but I do my best to brush it off. “Ha, ha. You have a real thing about that.”
“I do, actually. I have a very big thing about that. It’s kept me up at night. It’s given me fantasies. It’s triggered my voracious competitive side.”
I fold my arms, trying to create some distance between us. He doesn’t smell like alcohol. In fact, his breath smells like the crème puff, sweet and enticing and forbidden.
