What am I doing?He doesn’t want this baby.Maybe he hates children, or just doesn’t want to have one with me. Either way, my heart breaks that my baby is going to have a father who might treat it as badly as Nelson did me. “I’m not asking you to take responsibility for the baby. I can’t force you, and I’m not going to try.” My baby won’t beg for crumbs of affection from its own parent. I won’t let that happen.
“Then why are you telling me this?”
“Because you should know. You’re the father.”
“You won’t object to a paternity test, then.”
“No.” If I go through the paternity test now, I can spare my baby the kind of heartbreak and humiliation I experienced after Nelson outright rejected me when we first met. “I also won’t make a fuss if you quietly end the engagement.”
“Too late for second thoughts, not after that show you put on with your family. We will get married.”
“It’s foolish to go through with it when you’re this angry. Besides, we were going to fake it for a few months, not actually get married.”
“That was then. Things have changed. Believe me, I don’t want to marry you. But I’m not going to disappoint Emma.”
“Why do you care so much about her?”Why can’t your decision be about the baby, even a little?
“She’s like the mother I never had. She was always there by my side. If I abandon the mother ofmy child”—he sneers the words—“she’ll be dismayed.” He shakes his head. “Disappointed. Disillusioned, even. I won’t have that.”
“But getting married? We can’t make such a big life decision to please one person.”
“Then beg me. Getting on your hands and knees might do the trick.”
I inhale with pain at his cruel demand. “You asshole.”
“I’ve always been an asshole. It’s just that I wasn’t one to you.”
He takes a step forward, invading my personal space. I stiffen my spine and glare up at him. I’m not backing down.
“Now. We are going to return to the dining room and you’re going to smile and stop testing my patience. You’ve screwed me over quite enough already.”
Chapter Sixteen
Huxley
I’ve been played. Fucked over. And publicly mocked.
The dinner was a week ago, but the humiliation I’ve felt hasn’t abated one bit. And it won’t until I have my revenge.
“Are you okay?” Madison asks. She’s a prototypical California blonde with long legs and toned body. Her eyes are blue—but a lighter shade than Grace’s.
No. Don’t think about that manipulative little bitch.
I can’t believe I ever thought she was cute and sassy. How hard did she have to bite her cheek not to laugh when I asked about her mom? Did she have a good chuckle with my grandmother after I reached out to propose a fake engagement?
My phone buzzes with another call from Grandmother. She’s been calling and texting at least five times a day. Mom’s been trying to reach me too, but I refuse to answer. They’ll try to gaslight me—insist that my meeting with Grace was fate, fawn over how the pregnancy is a sign that Grace and I are meant to be and praise me for doing the right thing for the family.
“You look a little tired,” Madison says.
“I’m fine.”
She nods. “This came for you from Huxley & Webber.” Madison places a thick envelope on my desk. Her manner is deft and businesslike. If my situation weren’t such a mess, I might’ve been tempted to askherto be my fake fiancée, like my brotherssuggested. At least she’d be good at it—and not fuck me over with my family.
But she’s too damn professional to fool anybody. Who would believe she has any feelings for me when they see that smooth expression or hear her perfectly modulated voice?
“Do you know what it’s about?” I ask.
“No. Legal hasn’t looked at it, either. It’s marked personal.”
