but he found out by coincidence when he visited. He got mad and left New York.”
“I think I need to sit down.” He plops onto the couch again, raking a hair over his face before brushing it through his salt-and-pepper hair.
“Oh, and I’m almost thirteen weeks.”
His eyes go to my stomach even though it’s impossible to see it with my hoodie on. It’s not that I’m really showing in my loose clothes anyway. I can notice the difference and a lot of clothes don’t fit anymore, but a lot has to do with the bloating and overall weight gain. I might have overdone it a bit in my first trimester.
He lets out a heavy breath and sinks deeper into the cushions. “Well, for what it’s worth, I’ve always liked him. Reputable guy. He takes good care of his brother too. Not everyone would have stepped up the way he did.”
Words fail me as I gape at my dad. “You . . . like him? I thought you had a rocky relationship.”
He gives me an exasperated look. “You should know better than to trust the media, Harper. You’ve witnessed it over and over throughout my career that they print lie after lie. Whatever makes good money. We had to find our groove when we first started and butted heads a few times, but that’s pretty normal.”
I look at my lap.
Sharon rubs my arm. “Is that why you didn’t tell him?”
I nod, tears pooling in my eyes. “He was pretty angry when he left.”
“I’m sure he’ll forgive you.” Her voice is hopeful.
I press my lips together before I start sobbing.
“Ryan Monroe, huh? He’s quite a bit older than you.” My dad scratches his chin.
Something connects inside of me, this conversation having strengthened something between Ryan and me that I didn’t know needed strengthening. But there it is. All earth-shattering, bold, and strong. My protectiveness over him.
“Just like you and Sharon, Dad.” I dare him to say anything against that.
“Fair enough, kid. You got me there.” My dad shakes his head and laughs. A loud and hearty belly laugh, and I sigh. Not only am I relieved, but I also love seeing him happy.
“So this isn’t going to be an issue?” A direct question to my dad.
He shrugs. “Not unless he doesn’t treat you right.”
And there he is. The man I’ve loved and admired my whole life. He could be angry that his only daughter is homeless—sort of—and now pregnant. But because he loves me, believes in me, he’ll accept this additional blip on my unconventional radar and continue being my champion.
No doubt it’s Sharon’s quick acceptance that has helped smooth this situation over, but regardless, this is so much better than I thought possible.
And Dad knows deep down that Ryan will treat me right, so I nod. I have to make this right for Ryan. “Good.”
“Seems like you’ve got some groveling to do though, huh?” He smirks like this is his idea of fun.
I groan. “Ugh, yeah.”
No matter how embarrassing this is going to be, it will all be worth it.
Ryan is worth it.
We are worth it.
All three of us.
Nineteen
Ryan
“You okay, man? You don’t look very good.” Jace squints at me as if he’s trying to read my mind. He probably is.
I shrug it off. “Just haven’t slept well.”
He gives me a knowing look before jabbing a finger behind him in the direction of our lanes. “You want to be done for today?”
“Nah, let’s do another round of breaststroke. Or two. We’re not meeting with Noah and Hunt until six anyway, are we?” I turn my head to the clock at the side of the pool. It’s only 4:45 p.m.
“True. Well, let’s see what you got, old man. Now that Coach isn’t here, you can show me what a sore loser you really are.”
“Fuck off.”
“Ooooh. Trash talk. So classy, Ryan.”
I chuckle at his antics. I know what he’s doing, and I appreciate it. I’ve been in bad need of a cheer-me-up, which is the only reason I’m still at the pool instead of taking the afternoon off like Coach did. I also agreed to go to dinner with the guys. Trying to get my mind off Harper and our baby. Also, to come clean. No more secrets.
"Let’s do it.” I nod at Jace, who gives me one of his cocky grins, and we both get out of the water and on the blocks.
We bend down to get into our starting position, touching the front of the blocks. One foot in the front,