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She shakes her head. “No, I need to pee too, so I’ll just go with you.”

I take her hand in mine and lead her through our row to the nearest exit and the concession stands on the concourse. While we wait in line and read the menu, I realize Lennon might want food too. “Are you hungry? They have snacks…”

I expect an instant reply, but that isn’t what I get when I turn to her.

Lennon’s eyes are wide and her face is so pale that it takes me a second to understand her reaction.

“I—I think I’m gonna be sick.”

My gaze sweeps over her as if I might find the source of her nausea. “What? Why?”

“Because Adam is here.”

“Adam?” I search my memory but come up empty. “Adam who?”

“Adam, my ex…and the baby’s father.”

***

Before I can calm her down, Lennon looks up at me, determination filling her eyes and the color quickly returning to her face. “I’m so sorry, Easton.”

“Sorry for what?”

She inhales deeply. “For what I’m about to do.” She twists around me and heads straight for the motherfucker who didn’t want her—the asshole who refused to take responsibility for his fucking actions and his own kid.

I’ve benefited from his moronic decisions, but that doesn’t mean I still can’t possess a level of hatred for the man that would make any person fight the urge to pummel his face into the ground.

And then it dawns on me.

This isn’t the man I thought was the baby’s father. I’d assumed it was one of the guys I saw Lennon talking to at The Charming Bull in January, the night I walked away from her.

I’ve never met this twat waffle, but now that I see him, it makes my disdain for him grow even more.

Lennon walks straight up to Adam and looks him in the eye. I can’t hear what she says, but the two guys with him—his friends, I assume—immediately step back.

Fuck, I want to know what she’s saying.

Why the hell is she even over there talking to him in the first place?

Luckily, I don’t wait long. She returns after only a few minutes.

“Lennon…” I reach for her hand, and thankfully, she doesn’t pull away. Instead, she squeezes so hard I’m afraid she might break it.

“I’m okay,” she breathes. Circle, circle. Tap, tap. “I just need to get my blood pressure under control.”

I lead her to the nearest bench, help her sit, and crouch in front of her, repeating our pattern against the inside of her wrist. “Breathe, baby. Breathe.”

It takes her a few seconds, but I feel her start to relax. “I can’t believe I saw him here, but it shouldn’t surprise me.”

“Why?”

“He lives here.”

Even though I don’t want to know more about her short-lived relationship with the guy, I ask, “How did you meet him?”

Her eyes meet mine, determination and regret swirling in them. “The Charming Bull.” I stay quiet, unsure what to say. “We only saw each other off and on for a few months before…” Her words trail off as her gaze drops to her stomach.

“Hey.” I tip her chin up. “You’re safe, okay? You don’t ever have to see that guy again, all right?”