Total pages in book: 87
Estimated words: 85585 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 428(@200wpm)___ 342(@250wpm)___ 285(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 85585 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 428(@200wpm)___ 342(@250wpm)___ 285(@300wpm)
It’s almost laughable that I once had a crush on this guy and thought he was someone I could trust. Someone who might love me back. I couldn’t have been more wrong. He never cared about me, and, as hard as it is to admit, he never really saw me.
My gaze drops to the table, landing on a faint scratch in the wood. I press my palm to my stomach. Not to protect, but to remind myself of the reason I’m here.
For my baby and the future I couldn’t have imagined without the man by my side.
Mark looks at Collin again. “You’re sure about this?”
“I don’t want a kid,” Collin says flatly. “I never did.”
The words don’t hurt or sting the way they once would have. They simply confirm what I already knew. He was never the right man for me.
The pen pauses in his hand, and fear sparks within.
What if he doesn’t sign?
What if he decides to drag this out?
My body braces just as he signs the first page.
Then the second and third.
Each stroke eases the tightness inside my chest.
When Mark gathers the papers with a nod, the finality of it settles in. “That’s it.”
Silence stretches around the table. Collin is the first to stand, his chair scraping against the floor. He doesn’t bother looking at me until his hand is already on the doorknob. For a split second, I think he might apologize, or maybe sneer.
Instead, he simply shrugs. “Good luck,” he says, like we’re ending a conversation that never mattered.
And then he’s gone, disappearing into the corridor. It’s only when the door clicks shut behind him that my tense muscles loosen.
Laiken’s hand closes over mine on the table and his thumb brushes my knuckles before settling on the band that now circles my finger.
“Paper or not,” he says, “this baby is mine.”
I turn to him, taking a moment to study the man who’s now my husband. There’s nothing performative in his expression or his words. He’s just stating the truth. A simple fact.
And it means everything. Especially when one man couldn’t walk away fast enough… and this one is choosing to stay of his own volition.
Mark rises to his feet. “I’ll file everything this afternoon and then send copies to you.”
“Thank you,” I manage.
It’s only when we’re finally alone in the room that I can breathe again. It’s as if my lungs have been waiting for permission to expand. A huge weight has been lifted from my shoulders. Collin is out of my life.
For good.
It truly feels like the first day of the rest of my life. And I get to face it with this man. The one who chose me when it would’ve been so much easier to walk away.
Outside the office, late afternoon light spills across the sidewalk. The world keeps moving as cars pass and people laugh, completely unaware that something monumental just ended.
And something even more amazing began.
Laiken stops beside me. Unconsciously, my palm finds my stomach. His hand mirrors the motion, settling over mine. For the first time, I let myself mourn. Not for Collin, but for the version of my life I once imagined. The one where love was simple and didn’t require so much courage.
And then I let it go.
“For once,” I whisper, surprised by my own certainty, “the future feels steady.”
Laiken leans down and presses a kiss to my temple. “That’s because it is.”
I close my eyes and breathe him in. There’s no more waiting for the bottom to drop out.
That chapter is finished.
And the next one—ours—is only just beginning.
46
Laiken
The penthouse feels different now. It’s not necessarily quieter.
How could it be with a boisterous four-year-old tearing through the space like her ass is on fire?
Instead, it feels fuller. Like something has finally settled into place instead of continuing to hover just out of reach. The sounds overlap, one detail folding into the next. There’s the soft whir of the heating vents. Elody’s bare feet padding down the hallway. Kia’s steady voice reminding her to brush her teeth and put on pajamas. About how tomorrow is a school day even though everything feels slightly off-balance.
It’s more in the way all the noises fit together. It’s domestic and lived in. A rhythm that hasn’t existed here in a long time.
Maybe not ever.
I lean back against the kitchen counter and watch them without announcing myself, content to remain an observer instead of being in the center of the fray. Elody hops onto the couch and tucks her legs beneath her, dragging her pink blanket behind her like a tail. It tangles around her ankles, half forgotten.
Kia follows at an unhurried pace, kneeling in front of her to tug the sleeves of Elody’s pajama top down, smoothing the fabric with an ease of someone who’s done this a hundred times before. There’s no awkwardness in the motion, just instinct.