He talks. I barely listen. Something about how we can still be together when I’m in town and have some fun.
What? No.
I watch the door. The clock. My hands twist together in my lap.
Just say it.
Don’t back out now.
When he finally pauses, smirking as if he’s waiting for me to grovel, the anxiety spikes so hard it’s almost physical.
“I’m pregnant,” I say. The words tumble out before I can soften them.
For a second, he just stares. His face shifts—confusion first, then calculation. His jaw tightens, eyes narrowing as he decides how thisaffects him.
“If this is some ploy to get back together,” he says slowly, “it’s not happening. I need to share this.” His gaze travels down his chest to his groin area.
Disbelief flashes hot and sharp. “Of course I don’t want to get back together. I won’t be one of your side pieces.”
His brows lift, offended. “Then why?—”
“It’s yours,” I blurt.
That’s when it hits him.
Color drains from his face. His mouth opens, then closes. He leans back hard, as if the booth might tip, running a hand through his hair. Anger flares next—his breathing labored. “I want proof,” he snaps.
“You’ll get it,” I say calmly, surprised by my own steadiness. “But don’t worry. I don’t want you to be part of his or her life.”
That stops him.
I press on before he can interrupt. “I don’t want anything from you. But I thought you should know.”
He gives a harsh, single laugh. “If you’re here for money, it’s not happening.”
“I didn’t ask,” I say quietly. “I just wanted you to know that I’m raising this baby on my own.”
Silence stretches, thick and ugly.
Then he squints at me, his lips curling. “So…what? You and the old man parted ways?”
The insult lands, but it doesn’t stick.
Because now, I realize something with startling clarity: Brooks doesn’t see people. He only sees how he can gain an advantage. How in the world did I not see this for over a year? Back then, I didn’t listen to my intuition.
I stand, shoulders back, heart still racing—but lighter.
“No,” I say. “We didn’t.”
Did we?
I leave him sitting there, off-kilter, tapping his drink against the table, while I walk out feeling proud of myself for standing my ground and knowing one thing for sure.
I can do this. The O’Ryan family may be messy and loud, but we are loyal, and I know I’ll never be in this alone.
TWENTY-SEVEN
MATT
