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After the last woman I dated led me to question if I was a good dad, I decided to give up on dating altogether. I’d much rather be alone than try to navigate the shark-infested waters of today’s dating pool. It’s just not worth it.

I love being London’s dad. It’s by far the best thing I’ve ever done in my life. I wouldn’t change it for the world. She might’ve been the product of a broken condom during a one-night stand, but I wanted her from the moment her mom let me know she was pregnant.

I still remember the day Danielle told me the news. She wasn’t interested in being a mom, but she also wasn’t sure she wanted to have an abortion either. I told her it was her choice to do whatever was best for her, but that I wanted this baby more than anything. I agreed to take full custody of the baby if she decided to see it all the way through.

We’ve talked about it since then, and it wasn’t that Dani didn’t want London. She was more worried that I wouldn’t step up to the plate to help. She knew she wouldn’t be able to take care of a kid on her own, and I couldn’t blame her for her concern. I was basically a stranger to her. There was literally no way she could be sure I’d be there for her and the baby. In the end, we put a custody agreement in place to ease her concern over how things would shake out. It also protected me from Dani trying to take away my rights after London was born.

Now, she and London have a great relationship. Our co-parenting situation was built on mutual respect and friendship instead of animosity. I got really lucky—I’m fully aware—but even if Danielle had turned into an awful human being, I still wouldn’t regret having London.

She’s everything to me, and even though I wish some things in my life had gone differently, I know I wouldn’t have London if they did.

“Daaaaaaad, I’m starving,” London’s groan pulls me out of the editing haze.

“Hi, Starving, I’m Dad.” I hold my hand out as if I’m greeting her. She tries to roll her eyes at my hilarious dad joke, but she can’t hide her laughter. I straighten, rolling my shoulders to work out the kinks in my back.

“Can we make skettie and meatballs? With garlic bread?”

“Absolutely.” I stand, scooping up my girl and throwing her over my shoulder. She squeals, belly laughing at me while I carry her into the kitchen. We work side by side to fix dinner, and not for the first time, I wish Kylie could be here with us.

There have been many days when I feel like there’s a hole in our lives where Kylie would fit perfectly.

But I do my best to move on from that dream. It only leads to disappointment when reality crashes in, and I’m reminded that she’ll never be a part of our lives like that.

CHAPTER 3

Kylie

Goosebumps spread across my arms as I hold back a shiver.

It’s entirely too cold in the house to be wearing this dress, but I’m desperate. This is my last-ditch effort to get my husband to notice me even slightly. It’s as if he’s been a ghost in our house since we found out about the baby. I know that pregnancy hormones are messing with my head, but I feel like if he no longer wants to even have sex with me, then he’s officially checked out of this marriage.

With the low back and loose-fitting sides of my dress, he’ll have easy access to my body. And I have to say, I look pretty dang good in it.

I swear, this pregnancy has run the gamut of side effects. I had horrible morning sickness for the first three months, then when I finally felt like I’d turned the corner, I had the scare of a lifetime, which turned out to be completely normal. I felt like an idiot, but the doctors all assured me it was understandable given my history.

Now I’m hornier than I’ve ever been in my life, and while I’m desperate for a real person’s touch instead of my toys, I’ll take even just a sliver of affection at this point.

Chris has been working practically nonstop these past few months. There have been more nights than I can recall when he slept at the office instead of coming home. I can understand if he’s exhausted, but at what point do I have to throw in the towel and ask if he even wants to be married anymore?

We haven’t had sex since Peanut was conceived almost six months ago, and before that it had been months. I’m sure most people would think that’s enough proof, but after all our fertility issues, sex stopped being a way to connect intimately and became something we resented.

So desperate times call for desperate measures. I bought this dress in the hope he’d see me in it and, at the very least, acknowledge how good I look. Not to mention the easy access to my boobs. If he doesn’t at least check me out before he goes to work, I’ll know for certain he has no interest in me anymore.

I’m putting the finishing touches on breakfast when he finally comes into the kitchen. “Good morning.”

He heads straight for the coffee pot, grabbing a thermos from the cabinet above and filling it up. He looks over at me as he twists the lid closed. “I’m headed to the office early. We’re wrapping up the Greenfield case, so it’s all hands on deck.”

Before I can blink, Chris is walking out the door. Not a single reaction. Not even an acknowledgment that I cooked breakfast for him. Biting my lip to keep it from quivering, I settle my hands on my belly.

“Looks like it’s just you and me, Peanut.” I pretend as if my heart isn’t hurting, focusing on the spread of food I’d worked on all morning. I had French toast—Chris’s favorite—along with eggs, fruit, and bacon laid out on a platter.

For a moment, I let my disappointment overwhelm me. How did my life get so off track that I barely recognize who I am anymore? I never imagined I’d have to throw myself at my husband in a desperate attempt to get his attention. It’s more pathetic that he didn’t even notice. He barely glanced in my direction before he left.

Taking a deep breath, I exhale away my heartache. It won’t do me any good to dwell on it.

I make a plate of food, forcing myself to eat every bite even though I don’t have an appetite anymore. I need the calories after losing quite a bit of weight from the severity of my morning sickness. When I’m finished, I go through the motions of cleaning the kitchen. All the leftovers go into the fridge for me to snack on throughout the week, and by the time I’m done cleaning, I’ve moved on from my pity party.

I decide to call Gray and Luddy. They always make me laugh when I’m having a sad day. It’s not until I see Grayson’s bright blue eyes take in my dress that I realize I probably should’ve put on something else before calling them.