Chapter Fourteen

The OB-GYN checkup came just in time. I was eager to hear about Baby Whitehall’s life inside my hostile womb and also to get approximately five thousand prescription drugs for my morning sickness, which now had me dropping six pounds—involuntarily, of course.

Joanne, Devon’s secretary, called me in the morning to let me know she’d sent a cab for me. She sounded like the sweetest person on planet Earth, Jennifer Aniston included.

“Now, I’m not saying I know what it’s about, but I sure hope our friend Lord Whitehall is treating you well,” she clucked on the other line.

“Ma’am, he is treating me too well.”

“There’s no such thing!” she bellowed. I could practically hear her contemplating her next words before she said, “Again, I have no idea what I’m booking this for, but … I do hope this is going to stick. He’s a fantastic man. Strong, confident, sturdy, razor sharp. He deserves a good woman.”

He does, I thought bitterly. Too bad I’m incapable of being that for him.

When I slid into the cab an hour later, clad in oversized sunglasses and a faux fur coat, I was surprised to see Devon sitting on the other end of the passenger seat, dressed in a dashing suit and a peacoat, typing emails on his phone.

“Sweven.” He pocketed the phone as he turned to me, drawling in his signature Hugh Grant accent. Fuck me.

“Asshole,” I volleyed back, still surly about the fact he’d shoved himself into my business, figuratively and literally. “You’re here. Yay me. Should’ve known you’d try and take control of this situation too.”

“Enjoying your new employees?” He ignored my barb. All of them, actually. Why wasn’t he backing away? Why wasn’t he giving up on me, just like every other man I exhausted into submission?

“Ask me in a week.”

“I’ll set a reminder.” I couldn’t tell if he was sarcastic or not.

“I’m going to pay you back for them, you know.” I rested my head against the cool seat and closed my eyes to ease the sickness.

“You look terrible, darling.”

“Thanks, boo.” Wasn’t I just a bundle of joy?

“By that I mean you look exhausted. How can I help?”

“You can get out of my hair.”

“Sorry, it smells too good.”

I let out a tired smile. “I’m not going to turn you off with this attitude, am I?”

He shrugged, throwing me a lopsided grin that made my heart slow almost to a complete stop. “Exquisite things often have thorns. It’s to keep away unwanted attention.”

“You really think you’re going to screw me again, huh?” I blinked.

“Positive,” he confirmed.

When we arrived at Doctor Bjorn’s office, my OB-GYN was under the bizarre impression Devon was an ex-boyfriend of mine and that we rekindled our romance. No reason for him to think that, of course. He just did.

“There’s nothing I like to see more than old flames spark anew due to baby-making.” He ushered both of us to a checkup room, clapping his hands excitedly.

“The only blaze analogy I’d use for this man would be my setting him on fire,” I assured the happy doctor.

Devon chuckled darkly, rubbing my back in comforting circles. We made our way through the hallway littered with pictures of sleeping babies in baskets. When you thought about it, babies and kittens had a lot in common in terms of appropriation.

“As you can tell, her hormones are already all over the place.” Devon was being deliberately chauvinistic to grind my gears.

I wasn’t going to let him know he was ruffling my feathers, though.

“Don’t expect wedding bells, Doctor Bjorn,” I said. I needed to ensure that Devon knew I was not up for the taking. I was already straddling the edge of an anxiety attack just from hanging out with him.

Some girls didn’t want to be touched after a traumatic experience.

But me? My body was very receptive to male attention. It was my brain, heart, and soul that rejected the idea of them completely.

We entered a small room with wooden cabinets, an examination table, and more charts about babies and STDs.

“Duly noted, Ms. Penrose. So, Mr. Whitehall, would you like to join us for the vaginal ultrasound exam?” My OB-GYN asked Devon, not me. These two were really hitting it off.

Also—shouldn’t I be the one to decide such thing?

“He wouldn’t,” I said at the same time Devon exclaimed, “I’d be delighted to.”

Doctor Bjorn looked between us. “My apologies. Usually when a man arrives with his partner for an ultrasound, I draw a certain conclusion. I’m sorry if I overstepped. I’ll leave you to decide and come back in a few minutes. Please ensure that you’re in your robe and undressed from the waist down on the examination table, Ms. Penrose.”

Devon and I engaged in a stare-off for a few seconds before he drawled, “And your problem is?”

“It’s a vaginal exam.”

“So? I’ve seen yours before from all angles. Fucked it, licked it, fingered it, and played with it.”

“This is a pivotal moment in my life, you caveman,” I barked.

“Intimate for both of us. It’s my child in there.” He pointed at my stomach.

“And my vagina,” I reminded him.

“My god, you are childish.” Finally—finally—he was over my behavior. But it didn’t feel half as satisfying as I thought it would.

“Well, I am over a decade younger than you.”

“Look,” he sighed, shaking his head like I was an unruly child. “I promise not to look anywhere … sensitive. I just want to see the baby. My baby.”

“There’s nothing to see.” I threw my hands in the air. “At this point, it’s as big as a bean.”

“Our bean,” he corrected.

He had a point, and I hated that he had a point. I also hated that I couldn’t say no to him. Not about the employees or joining me at the doctor’s or anything else. Because the truth was … doing shit with someone else around didn’t feel so bad after all.

“Fine. But if you peek at my muffin, I swear to god I’m going to destroy your baked goods.”

He frowned at me. “You need to work on your analogies.”

“I meant I’d punch your junk.”

“Subtle.”

The vaginal ultrasound went as well as a vaginal ultrasound could go. Devon and I saw the little dot in my uterus, static and proud. Both of us stared at it with awe and amazement.

“The little bean is looking good. Make sure you are rested and keep your stress levels low.” That was Doctor Bjorn speaking. To Devon, naturally.

“Roger that, Doc.”

“All right, hop off and meet me in my office.”

This was when I glared at Devon. “Do you mind?”

I caught him staring at me like I’d just performed a magic trick he hadn’t seen before. Big azure eyes swimming with emotion and pride. And it killed me. It killed me that I couldn’t wrap my arms around him and kiss him and tell him that I felt the same.

All of it. The shock. The excitement. The awe.

Instead, I raised my eyebrows, as if to say well?

“Right. Of course.” Devon stood up, looking around him, like he had another reason to stay. “I’ll just … well, yes. Yes. See you at the doctor’s office when you’re done dressing.”

Doctor Bjorn prescribed me with some pills to ease the morning sickness and told us we were doing a good job. I wasn’t sure Devon would have agreed with the assessment had he known about the Glock nestled in my clutch, and that I was ready to get into a physical fight with a stalker at any given moment.

We swung out of the office, and I called the elevator while Devon took the stairs. I didn’t try to convince him to go down the elevator with me. I knew damn well I didn’t like it when people pushed me out of my comfort zone or minimalized my triggers, so I tried to accommodate his preferences.

We met again at the ground floor and stood in front of each other on the street, bracketed by skyscrapers and pedestrians.

Suddenly, I had a sweven of my own. A vision of us holding hands. Smiling at each other. Enjoying this moment, like an ordinary couple.

Devon cleared his throat and looked away. “I better head to work.”

“Right.” I rearranged my ponytail. “Me too. I have employees to train.”

“That must be a pain,” he offered politely.

“Necessary evil,” I concluded.

Stop me. Tell me not to go. Let’s stay a little longer.

Whoa. I had no idea where those thoughts came from.

“Well, catch you later.” I took a step back and started for the street.

I began walking in the opposite direction when his voice pierced the air.

“Perhaps …”

I froze in my spot, my soul in my throat. Yes?

“You’d like some brunch? You heard what the doctor said. You need to keep your energy levels up. I can pick up your pills while you wait for our order. There’s a café down the street—”

“Yes.” I turned sharply. My entire body shook. With excitement. Dread. Fear. “Yes. I need to eat.”

“Yeah. Okay. All right.”

Neither of us moved. Again. A few weeks ago we were fucking each other like the world was ending, and now we were being awkward? How was this my life?

“Anytime would be good now.” I folded my arms over my chest, jutting one hip out with a grin. “Today, tomorrow. The day after it.”

He let out a chuckle and rushed toward me. He pressed his hand against the small of my back, and I swear, a jolt of electricity ran through his fingers and exploded right between my legs.

What the fuck.

What the fuck.

What the fuck.

“Bean looks very cute, huh?” I asked when we walked to the nearest café. People were doing a double take when they saw me—probably recognizing me from billboards—but they also stared at him. Everyone knew there was a British royal living in Boston.

“Dashing,” he agreed. “I’ve yet to see a better looking bean.”

“I’m not even into legumes very much.” Oh my God, what was I saying?

Devon laughed. “You little nutter.”

“Dev?”

“Hmm?”

“Now’s a good time to tell me why you’re a raging claustrophobe.”

“Ask me again later.”

“How much later?”

“When I trust you.”

“That may never happen,” I pointed out.

“Exactly.”

We arrived at a quaint café with bay windows and potted flowers on the tables. When the hostess showed us to our table, running her gaze along Devon’s body appreciatively, I internally groaned.

I wondered if that would have happened if I were showing.

Then I reminded myself that it didn’t matter because we weren’t a couple.

“Aren’t you a lord? I mean, a duke?” The waitress fawned over him.

Devon shot her a polite yet short smile. “Marquess,” he corrected.

After pulling my chair out for me to sit, my baby daddy proceeded to order the entire menu without even looking at it.

“We have twenty-seven items on the menu,” the waitress warned, batting her eyelashes at him. Was I invisible next to this bastard?

“Good. My date likes variety,” Dev said. I had a feeling he was referring to my sexual conquests.

“Any particular order you want the food to come out?” The waitress was now half leaning against him, and again, I wanted to pick up the fork from the table and stick it between her eyes.

“Ask my date. While you’re at it, could you kindly keep an eye on her? She is very good at making me worry.”

He took my prescription and driver’s license and dashed across the street to the pharmacy to grab my morning sickness pills.

When he returned, I noticed the bag he was carrying was far larger than it should have been.

“Did you buy out the entire place?” I raised an eyebrow, sipping a terribly green and offensively healthy juice.

This baby better come out ready for a triathlon because I was doing everything right.

Devon turned the bag upside down and poured its contents on the table.

“Did you know there’s an entire aisle dedicated to pregnant women?”

“Yes,” I said matter-of-factly.

“Well, I didn’t. So I decided to buy whatever they had to offer. We have things for heartburn, dietary supplements, morning sickness, constipation, and vaginal imbalance.”

“You mean pH imbalance. If my vag was imbalanced, I’d send her to a pussy shrink.”

Devon sputtered the sip of coffee he took while sitting down. He was laughing hard. I felt his laughter bubbling in my own chest.

“My mother is going to love you,” he deadpanned.

Surprisingly, I found myself cackling out loud despite my best efforts not to. Not only because the idea of my ever meeting his mother was deranged, but also because he was right. His family would probably have a collective heart attack if they ever met me.

“Did you tell her about your new status?” I asked.

“Yes.”

“And?”

“She wasn’t impressed,” he admitted.

“And …?” I probed, my heart sinking a little.

“I’m in my forties and in a position to do whatever the hell I please. And what I wanted to do was you. Case closed.”

There was so much more I wanted to ask—to know—but I had no right to probe. Not after I drew a thick glaring line between us.

“So tell me a little about your fear of elevators, cars, planes, etc,” I said as I tore into some eggs Benedict.

He grinned. “Nice try. You didn’t gain my trust in the last half hour. And, to be frank, I don’t think you ever will.”

“Why not?”

“Trust cannot be placed in the hands of someone who does not trust themselves. I’m not against telling you my story, Emmabelle, but weaknesses should be exchanged in the same way countries exchange war hostages. It’s a rather bloody and bleak thing, isn’t it? Our insecurities. One should not relinquish information without gaining some.”

“Ha.” I smiled, buttering a piece of carrot cake, even though it made no sense. “So you’re not, in fact, perfect?”

“Not even close. Not even in the realm.” His smile was contagious.

I ducked my head down and tried to concentrate on the food.

“Well, I’m not ready to put my trust in you yet either,” I admitted.

“Would it be so bad?” he asked kindly. “To have some faith in another person?”

I gave it some thought then nodded slowly. “Yes. I think it would.”

He held my gaze. I had a feeling I was making a terrible mistake, and yet I couldn’t stop it.

“Am I waiting for you, Emmabelle?” he asked quietly. “Is there even a reason for me to wait for you?”

Say yes, you idiot. Give him something to hold on to, so you’ll have something to hold on to.

But the word slipped out of my mouth anyway. Harsh and blunt, like a stone. “No.”

For the next hour and a half, we talked about everything that wasn’t our respective phobias of confined places and relationships.

We talked about our mutual friends, our childhoods, politics, global warming, and our pet peeves—his included when people said ‘literally’ when what they meant was not, in fact, literal; mine consisted of using the same knife for the peanut butter and jelly, and when people told me I was not going to believe something, when I absolutely was going to believe it.

“Humans are just deplorable!” I threw my hands in the air, summing up our brunch. Devon paid the bill and, if my sneak-peek wasn’t mistaken, was also leaving one heck of a tip.

“Inexcusable,” he cemented. I was glad he was okay with our conversation after I told him not to wait for me. “But one must deal with them anyway.”

“Thanks for not being completely horrible, boo.” I pressed my fist to his bicep in a friendly manner. Bad call. I was met with his bulging muscles through his clothes and immediately wanted to jump his bones.

Devon looked up from the bill and rolled his thumb against my brow. “Darling, do you have a fever? I do believe you just paid me a compliment.”

“Well, you just paid for one hell of a meal. I didn’t mean it or anything,” I huffed. Way to go, Belle. Channeling your inner five-year-old.

“You’re thawing.” He grinned.

I made a gagging sound and scooped my clutch. “Not in this lifetime. As I said, don’t wait up for me to change my mind about us.”

He escorted me to a cab to take me to Madame Mayhem then waited with me when the driver went in circles for ten minutes trying to find us and apologized profusely, saying he’d just moved to Boston from New York.

The driver parked in front of us, and Devon did the duck-head-into-window shtick and told him to drive extra slow because his wife was pregnant and nauseous, which made me want to vomit from excitement and dread at the same time.

Devon erected back to his full height, rubbing my jaw tenderly. The gesture was so gentle, so soft, a shiver rolled along my spine, making my skin tingle. He leaned forward, and I caught a waft of his scent. Spicy and dusky. A scent I’d grown to chase each time he left my office or my bed.

I found myself admiring the planes of his face. My fingertips itched to touch him. Knowing I was carrying his DNA inside me gave me a thrill I’d never had in my thirty years of clubbing.

He tilted his face to one side, and for a moment, I thought he was going to kiss me. Drawn to him like a moth to a flame, I rose on my tiptoes, my mouth falling open. His body moved forward, engulfing me. My heart began to hammer.

It was happening.

We were breaking the rules.

When Devon was a few inches behind me, he reached his arm past my shoulder and opened the car’s door, stepping aside to give me some room to enter.

Holy embarrassing shitballs.

I almost devoured his face when all he wanted to do was help me into a taxi.

“Have a good day, Emmabelle.” He took another step back, looking casual and dry as fuck.

“Yeah!” My voice broke. Hello, thirteen-year-old-boy Belle. “You too.”

The entire taxi ride to work, I reminded myself that this was all my doing. I wanted to keep him away. Hanky Panky with an older man had its price tag, and I’d once paid for it dearly.

This is how it starts, I chided the seeds of hope that had taken root inside me. Sweet and unassuming. It’s all fun and games until he destroys your life.

But no one was going to destroy me anymore.

Then I remembered one of the quotes hanging on the wall in my apartment.

It’s okay.

You just forgot who you are.

Welcome back.