"Lainey," he said, and his voice was closer now. I looked up to find him standing in front of me, his face tight with guilt.
"It's not your fault," I told him. "None of this is your fault."
"It feels that way." He crouched down in front of me so we were at eye level. He sighed and rested a hand on my knee. "I was the idiot who suggested getting married would be a good idea."
As if that was the reason all of this was happening. "I went willingly and made my own choices." I wiped my face but the tears kept coming. This was Brandon's fault—all of it. Or maybe partly mine. If I'd had the guts to break it off with him months ago when I knew my heart wasn't in it anymore, I'd have saved us all the trouble.
"You were hurt and I should've left you alone." Kade's thumb strummed my knee gently. When he'd attempted to comfort me in the parking lot behind the bakery I'd pushed him away. Now I let him do whatever he wanted. I needed someone somewhere to do it, and my lifeline to my mother was cut off by my own doing right now.
"Look, it's okay. Some of this was inevitable. I knew things with Brandon were over a long time ago; I just couldn't end it. It's the bakery thing that I'm worried about. It's my whole future, and probably one of the reasons why I subconsciously didn't break up with him. It's selfish but I needed his funds to keep me afloat."
He reached for my hand and held it, and it felt strangely comforting. "Tell me how to fix it," he said softly, and the concern in his eyes was genuine.
Either I had an entirely skewed mental image of Kade Kingston based only on the way the media portrayed him and everyone in this world saw him the wrong way, or he was being different with me. Which I didn't believe for a second. It was easier to convince myself that the tabloids and press had painted a bad picture of him, and he really was this sweet, amazing man, than for me to believe he actually cared about me personally. It made more sense. He was too wealthy, and too famous to stoop to my level.
I shook my head. "No, there's nothing you can do." Short of buying a thousand cupcakes from me and turning himself into the next four-hundred-pound man, Kade couldn't save the day at all. The last time he'd tried to save the day for me, all of this insanity happened.
"Let me try," he said as he squeezed my hand. "Please, I can cover the ingredients for the fundraiser and get you whatever you need."
"I don't want your money." I didn’t mean to scowl or pull back, but the natural reaction I had to him throwing his money at a problem was genuine. If I let him do that, the next thing that would happen would be every newspaper and tabloid magazine on the West Coast running pictures of me with him, calling me a gold digger. No thank you.
"Then what do you want?"
I didn't know how to answer that. I wanted to go back in time and make different choices. I wanted Brandon to have nevercheated, my bakery to succeed without anyone's help, and to not be pregnant and terrified and completely alone.
"I want to stop feeling this way," I said quietly.
"What way?"
"Trapped and lost." I looked down at my hands, where Kade had slipped his fingers between mine again. "I spent six years being Brandon's girlfriend, planning his future, and living the life he wanted. And now I'm free and I should be happy, but I'm just falling apart."
He was quiet for a moment. "You're not falling apart."
"Yes, I am."
"No, you're rebuilding." He moved closer until his knees touched mine. When his hand cradled my jaw and brushed away a tear a zing of warmth spread through my body.
I wanted to argue, but I couldn't find the words. The truth was sitting on my bathroom counter and it wasn't something he could fix. I was going to be a mother; I was going to raise this baby alone, and I had no idea how to tell him that everything was so much worse than a failed fundraiser. How did I even begin to tell him he was going to be a father?
Something broke inside me and I leaned forward. He caught me and his arms wrapped around me while I buried my face in his shoulder. He smelled clean and expensive and I hated how safe I felt when I knew better. He was a total stranger, just a placeholder, not anything real or lasting.
But his arms felt comforting and I needed that more than I needed logic.
"I'm sorry," I said into his shirt.
"Don't be."
I pulled back enough to look at him. His face was so close I could see the green flecks in his eyes. My breath caught as my chest started to swell up and time seemed to stop.
He hesitated and his gaze dropped to my mouth. "Lainey?—"
I kissed him before he could finish, and it was soft at first, tentative, as if both of us were waiting for the other to pull away. But then his hand came up to cup my jaw and everything changed. The kiss deepened and turned hungry, and I couldn't remember why I'd been pushing him away. His lips moved against mine and matched the fire building inside me. I let myself get lost in it, my hands fisting in his shirt as if that could anchor me. The kiss grew deeper, our breaths mingling in hot bursts, and I felt his body press closer. But then he pulled back just enough to look into my eyes with an intense, searching gaze.
"Lainey," he muttered. "Are you sure about this? I don't want to do anything you don't want."
I nodded without hesitation, my heart pounding. "Yes... please." Why was he stopping? Why was he asking for consent? Couldn't he read the situation?
He searched my face for another second, then asked again, his thumb tracing my lower lip. "You're sure? No regrets?"
