made your success unconventionally. No college, no support from your parents. You had an amazing opportunity, and I refused to let this ruin it.”
Ruin it?
It was a baby, not a crisis. How long had she worried about this?
“You should have talked to me the instant you found out.”
“I know. I regret it. Nate, please, what we have is special. I was afraid this would jeopardize it.”
“Didn’t you think I’d find out?”
“I planned to tell you after the wedding.”
“Why? So you could put everyone else first again? So you could worry about what they’d think or what they’d say? Mandy, you aren’t protecting them. You’re hiding from yourself and everything that this means.”
Her eyes welled with tears. “I was scared.”
“Yeah? I bet you were. I’m scared too, but Christ, I would’ve helped you. I would’ve protected you from anyone who gave you shit because you carried our baby.”
And I meant it.
Was I that untrustworthy? Did she think I wouldn’t be able to take care of her? That I couldn’t fix this?
No one would give her grief for this. I wouldn’t let anyone shame her.
Except Mandy worried about her family’s reaction. I hadn’t thought about mine.
It was the first time in years I gave a damn what they’d say, and I knew exactly what my father would have asked of me.
No, what he would have demanded I do.
I never agreed with him before. Now it only made sense.
“We should get married,” I said.
Mandy stared at me, her eyes dark with exhaustion, stress, and utter disbelief. “Married?”
My mind spelled the words with thorns. “Yeah. Married.”
“But why?”
“Because you’re pregnant.”
“We can’t get married because we’re having a baby.”
“Why the hell not?”
More tears. More stress. More loneliness.
Couldn’t I do anything right by her?
“We can’t get married just because there’s a child involved.” Mandy covered her tummy with a hand. “You’ve seen everyone else’s marriage lately. Mom and Dad can’t stand each other. Lindsey might murder Bryce before they get to the altar. Mom’s off sleeping with the groom’s father…” She sucked in a breath. “And your parents are married, but they’re—”
“This isn’t about them. This is about doing what’s right for us.”
“It is about them! Look around you. No one has a happy marriage. Everyone stays together for the wrong reasons. We should learn from that, not replicate it!”
That stung.
No. It fucking hurt.
“You wouldn’t want to be married to me?”
“Nate, three months ago, your throat would have swollen shut over that word.”
“Yeah? Well maybe that’s because I didn’t see what good there was in it. Not until I spent that night with you.” I swallowed. How could a woman as delicate as her rip me apart? “Maybe we didn’t have the connection I thought we did.”
“What?” Mandy’s eyes glistened with tears. “We do. I know we do.”
“Then why didn’t you tell me the truth about the baby?”
“I’m sorry—”
I tugged on my shirt and turned to the door. Mandy rushed after me.
She grabbed my arm. I resisted the urge to shake from her touch.
Christ, how pathetic was I that I needed to feel her hands on my skin?
“I have feelings for you,” she said. “Nate, I’ve never felt like this before, and that’s why we can’t rush into anything. I know you’re hurting, and this news is so shocking…but getting married for the wrong reasons isn’t noble or practical. It’ll only end in heartbreak. I don’t want that. It’d hurt too much.”
Now I did pull from her. I left my voice low. Raw.
“Yeah. Heartbreak sucks, doesn’t it?”
Mandy called my name. I ignored her.
The door slammed shut behind me.
What was I doing?
What was I supposed to do?
I had to be calm, rational, and, above all else, comforting to the woman who seemed terrified to be having a baby.
My baby.
So far, I was doing a piss poor job of it. It wasn’t fair to her to leave, but if I didn’t sort my own shit out first, I’d say the wrong thing and ruin everything. If I wanted to take care of her, I had to work through my own emotions.
Even if I felt…betrayed.
Not because she hid the truth, but because she feared that I wouldn’t have been there, helped her, or wanted her.
She didn’t trust me, and the thought tore me apart.
I drove to my bar, but I didn’t want to fight the crowd. Even isolated in my office, I’d have to fight through memories of her. Christ, she had tried to tell me about the baby that one day. Of course, I’d interrupted her and pressured her