‘Rightnow?’
‘Yes.’ I stretch my fingers over the keyboard, ready to get down to business. ‘I need to be sure we’ve talked it all through –moresure,’ I add when he stiffens beside me. ‘Then I can instruct my lawyers to draw up the paperwork.’
‘I thought you said you trusted me?’
‘I do trust you.’
It’s me I don’t trust. Not any more.
I’m the one getting carried away.
I’m the one starting to see the possibility of a different future. One where he’s front and centre with our child. I’m the one whose love is trying to grow wings of its own.
And Jesus, now I sound like I belong in a bleeding Hallmark movie.
What iswrongwith me?
‘You type any harder, you’ll lose a key.’
‘Shh.’
I wriggle in my seat, every exposed inch of skin buzzing. I’d say it’s the seriousness of the conversation making me feel suddenly, stupidly underdressed, but I’d be lying. My body’s far too aware of his looming over me, his dark gaze too. Does the man have X-ray vision along with his magnetic superpower?
And what do you sound like now, Tay?
A Hallmark heroine with a superhero complex?
My God, Sadie would love that.
‘I need you to concentrate,’ I tell him, but I fear it’s me that needs telling more. ‘This is important.’
‘No shit.’
He breaks away to cross the room and I heave a breath, only to tense when I hear the clink of glass on glass as he tops up his drink again. He brings the bottle back to the desk with a second glass for me.
‘No.’ I take the lot from him and set them out of his reach. ‘No more drink until this is done.’
‘You’re gonna mother me now too?’
I stare him down from my seated position, and he clenches his jaw. I half-expect him to take his glass back. But he doesn’t.
He plants his mighty-fine arse against the edge of the desk and folds his arms. Which would be manageable – if it didn’t put his belt buckle right at eye level. And suddenly, I’m not just remembering what he did with the leather it’s attached to; I’m imagining my hands there, undoing it, popping his fly, and…
I bite my lip and snap my gaze back to the screen, but I can’t read a word through the fantasy taking over.
‘I’m waiting, Stone.’
His voice is as tight as my clenched core.
I should tell him to take a seat on the other side of the desk.
And I would – if I didn’t know better than to push him any further.
‘Parenthood expectations?’ I blurt, forcing my eyes to focus and my hyperaware fingers to type.
‘Zero.’
‘Will not be listed on the birth certificate,’ I say as I enter it in. ‘No child support or shared custody, but…’ I pause. ‘What about when they’re older and start asking questions? What if they want to know who…?’
