again. Too bad I’m persistent as hell.”
She cracks a tiny smile, but the light in her eyes that glimmered wildly the night we met is pretty dim.
Shit. Maybe she’s actually downright just not into me. Chase said that isn’t possible, but hey, it’s no secret the smokeshow billionaire chick is just a tad out of my league.
“You knew it was me, didn’t you?” She narrows her piercing gaze. “When they told you Noah Vice’s sister would be running PR. You knew exactly who that was.”
I lift a shoulder and give her a cocky wink. “And?”
She purses her lips and tries to read me. “Why would you agree to do this? If you knew it was me.”
“I wanted to see you again,” I say, point-blank.
Her brows knit together, and her eyes flash. “Aren’t you supposed to be some kind of playboy?”
“Supposed to be, I guess. Doesn’t change the fact that I wanted to see you again.” I take a swig of coffee and straighten my back.
“Matt…” She turns the sleeve on her coffee cup, and I notice her fingers quiver a little, her expression growing serious. “There’s something I need to tell you.”
I offer a grin to put her at ease. “If it’s that you lied about going to Thailand, yeah. Secret’s out. Maybe now you can tell me the real reason you didn’t want to give me your number?”
She opens her mouth to talk, her soft pink lips parting slightly as she gathers her hair over one shoulder and carefully chooses her words. “I didn’t lie about Thailand. I didn’t lie about anything…” Her voice trails off.
“But you’re…” I arch a brow and tap a finger on the table between us. “Here.”
“I know,” she says quickly, looking out the window. “I’m supposed to be in Thailand, but I got…reassigned.”
I resent the instant relief that swirls through my head at the slightest possibility that she didn’t lie.
Why do I care so much? There are a million chicks out there.
“Reassigned, huh?” I tilt the top of my coffee cup toward her. “Got the sudden urge to give up traveling the world to pursue your secret passion of football?”
Her gaze stays level, and steady, and really, really serious. The night I met her, she had a silly and wild and dazzling sense of humor. Today, she can barely smile. I obviously don’t know her very well, but I can sure as hell sense that something is wrong.
“Not exactly.” She chews her lip and exhales slowly. “Matt…I don’t really know how to tell you this.”
I feel the last hint of a smile fall from my face as I draw back in the chair. We hardly know each other. We’re practically strangers.
Strangers who spent one unbelievably hot and mind-blowing night in bed together, but still strangers.
“What’s going on, Ellie? Is everything okay?”
The question visibly breaks her, and my gut twists as her eyes fill with tears.
Okay, now I really need to know what the fuck is going on. This isn’t just about not being into me.
Her chest rises and falls with anxious breaths, and I can barely keep track of the thoughts that race through my mind.
Is she…married?
She certainly didn’t act married. But, hey, maybe she’s not who I thought she was.
I narrow my gaze and lean forward, resting my elbows on the table. “Whatever it is, please just say it.”
She draws in a slow, shaky breath in an attempt to compose herself. As her eyes squeeze shut, a tear falls down her soft cheek. “Matt…I’m…” Her brown eyes open, wide with worry and nerves.
Please God, don’t say married.
“Pregnant.”
I swear the earth stops turning, and the floor of this Starbucks is tilting underneath me. The breath I try to take gets caught in my throat.
She can’t be serious.
My heart does a spiral, and my mind twists and turns as that single word echoes over and over between us and shakes me to my core.
“You’re… Are you…sure it’s…” is all I can manage. I can feel that the color has completely drained from my face, and I’m just waiting for someone to hop up from behind a trash can and tell me I’m being punked.
“Yes.” She looks up at me. “I’m sure it’s yours. Contrary to how it may seem, I don’t generally sleep with guys I just met.”
I hold my hands up defensively and shrug. “Hey, I’m just making sure. I don’t judge.”
I swallow and try to process this, try to make sense of it.
“But…how did…” I whisper, trying to recall that night and what