GRAY
Gray had been livingwith her parents in her childhood home since Christmas. After the disastrous meeting with Ciar, she couldn’t bear to live in the same city with the father of her child, who was living his best life with his daughter in the home that had supposedly been meant for her.
There were too many insults to her already severely injured heart for that level of bullshit. She’d run like a little girl and not the successful woman that she was. Had it not been for her loving parents, she would have leased one of the Zurich spa homes to spend the rest of her pregnancy in.
Giving birth in healing waters surrounded by Zen gurus sounded pretty darn good. Alas, her mom and dad were so supportive of her “single and pregnant” life that she couldn’t bring herself to leave.
Hiding from Ciar was an added bonus. She swallowed her regret at their situation and patted the firm basketball she was sporting, whispering a quick, “I love you, sweet boy.”
Her son seemed to love Scotland and excitedly kicked whenever he heard the deep voices of her father and brother, which thrilled them to no end.
Her dad struggled with her need for independence. It was like, once she moved back in, he wanted to treat her like she was back in high school. Her mom advised humoring him. That worked well most days.
Was she hiding from Ciar? Yes. She had underestimated his lack of feeling for her and paid the price. The night she’d gone to his home, she had romanced the idea of him explaining himself, her forgiving him, and then getting back together to become a happy family.
The worst part, or the best part for his daughter’s sake, was that he was clearly a fantastic father. The visual had wounded her doubly to see him so easily cradle his child to his chest while his son had been sleeping beneath her sweater, wanting for his love too.
As she’d run from him, and she had run as embarrassing as it was to admit, she made up her mind, right or wrong, that she would let him know once their son was born and not before.
Ciar had no say in her life. He’d made that painfully clear over and over and over again. She did not need his input or forced support these last few months of her pregnancy.
She was back in Dublin for a doctor’s appointment and, as ridiculous as it sounded, she had agreed to meet her ex, Cannon, for lunch.
He was in town for his sister’s wedding and asked to meet up. He was moving home that summer. Gray wasn’t a fool. She could tell he was interested in rekindling their relationship.
She wanted to meet him in person so he would understand that they would never be an option and show him irrefutable proof—her baby bump. Even though Ciar broke her heart, she was not interested in moving backwards.
Her mom had suggested the Fitzwilliam because there was a slim chance of meeting Ciar, who had his own posh pub and his father’s pub to eat at.
Gray sat fidgeting at a lovely table overlooking the windswept courtyard. Had she not been so nervous, she would have soaked up the warmth of the dining room and the sweet fragrance of roses that drifted through the air.
She knew the moment Cannon arrived because she was staring at the only inside entrance to the restaurant.
He noticed her immediately. His easy smile made her smile in return. He was more handsome than she remembered, but he wasn’t the man she craved, unfortunately.
The moment she stood, he would see her bump. She hoped they could remain friends, but if he was hoping for a reconciliation, baby boy should nix that right off.
This was it. Arms wide, he stood next to her. “Gray, Christ, you’re more beautiful than my memories made you.”
She stood and allowed Cannon’s arms to wrap around her back. The moment her tummy pressed into his middle, she felt his body stiffen and still.
Leaning back, his hands slid from her back to her sides. “I think this lunch is going to go way differently than I imagined.” His smile faltered in disappointment.
“Sit, Cannon. I think we have a lot to catch up on.”
He studied her in confusion as the waiter took their drink orders. She couldn’t blame him. Hell, she struggled with the knowledge that she was growing a child in her body too.
“How has America treated you, Cannon?” She hoped her query would jog her lunch date from his shock at finding his ex-girlfriend pregnant.
“Well,” he nodded jerkily. “Gray, you’re…you are…a baby,” he finally managed to get out.
“Yes. I’m pregnant.”
“Who is the father?” he asked carefully, clearly not comfortable asking after the man who had replaced him.
“An old friend,” was the best she could come up with.
“Are you not with him?” Cannon asked, frowning.
