Rachel Bailey - Return of the Secret Heir

But it was for a short time, no routines, no dependence. That was what they’d agreed on.

Now that the doctor had given her a clean bill of health, indicating that her fainting risk was no higher than for any other pregnant woman, JT would be leaving again-they’d return to simply being parents of an unborn child. And if her chest hollowed a little at the thought, then it was lucky they weren’t continuing the arrangement any longer than they had. Their bond was via their baby.

She reached for her bag and found a folded piece of note paper. “I’ve been thinking about names.” She’d thumbed through the baby name book they’d used to choose Brianna’s name yesterday while JT was at work. “I made a few notes as a starting point. Some for a boy and some for a girl.”

Within an instant, his face hardened, a sharp contrast to the relaxed charm of only a minute ago. “It’s too soon for names.”

Her heart stuttered and dipped. He’d said he didn’t want to plan too far ahead in case something happened to the baby, but she’d hoped that after today’s clearance from the doctor, he’d be willing to look a little further into the future. To have some optimism about their baby.

“Dr. Crosby said everything looked fine,” she said, finding a smile with effort. “And I’m into the second trimester now.”

The waiter swooped past, depositing two glasses of sparkling water on their table. JT sipped from his, gripping it in a white-knuckled hold. “You were into the second trimester last time.”

“I fell out a window last time,” she pointed out. “I don’t plan on scaling any buildings, falling from any trees or climbing out any windows in the next few months.”

He didn’t even crack a smile at her attempt at humor. “Dr. Crosby said there was a ten-percent chance of a placental abruption reoccurring. I just don’t want us to put the cart before the horse.”

That figure of ten percent had haunted her dreams, but she refused to let the ice-cold fear crawl into her waking hours. Positivity was the only option-this baby would survive and be born healthy. And if JT accepted that too, it would be easier for her to keep the fears at bay.

“We haven’t bought a crib,” she began, speaking slowly, gently, “haven’t decorated a nursery. I understand you want to play it safe and wait before doing big things, but there’s nothing to lose in choosing some options for names.”

The skin across his face pulled taut. “There’s something to lose,” he said and the pain in his eyes tore at her soul.

Opening their hearts to a new baby after such grief wasn’t something covered in the baby books, but they had to find a way through it, for their child’s sake.

Her hand strayed to her belly. “JT, things are going to constantly crop up from here on that will involve thinking about the future. How do you want to handle that?”

“One day at a time,” he said in a tone that ended the discussion.

Their meals arrived and she watched him pick up his cutlery, his body still tense. The restaurant was slowly filling up but there was no one at the tables adjacent to theirs, so they had a modicum of privacy. She picked at her fettuccine-only minutes before she’d been craving this meal but now, instead of tasting the flavors, she could only think about JT’s grief and inability to believe in this baby. They talked about the weather and topics that didn’t hit any buttons-with Pia using a tone of artificial brightness to try and lift the mood-and when they finished, JT ordered them both another drink and finally the atmosphere at the table relaxed again.

“You were right about the food here,” she said. “The pasta was delicious. How did you find this place?”

“I own the building,” he said simply and reached for his glass.

His answer was so unexpected that she couldn’t prevent a short laugh from escaping. “Of course you do.”

He grinned crookedly back at her and more of the tension from earlier dissipated. “I haven’t been here in a year, maybe two, and I was hoping the meals were as good as I remembered.”

She sat back in her chair, wondering at his life. The restaurant wasn’t that far from his office or apartment, and he liked the food. And yet he hadn’t been for a year or two. Curious.

She fingered the edge of the red napkin. “Why don’t you come more often?”

“I don’t know.” Frowning, he glanced from the brightly painted walls to the Italian flag behind the counter, as if he hadn’t considered the question before. Then he shrugged his broad shoulders. “I never seem to get a chance. I work until late and if I don’t want to cook for myself, I order in.”

“You don’t bring dates here?” she asked, then held her breath, wondering if she’d pressed too far into his personal life. But he didn’t seem bothered.

“I don’t date much. And when I do, I prefer something bigger and flashier.” He meant to imply he was a big spender for his dates, it was in the glint in his eyes, but she didn’t believe it. He was avoiding the intimacy a small place like this would bring.

He’d always been something of a lone wolf-which had been part of his appeal to her sixteen-year-old self-and it seemed he was even more so now.

“You don’t let women get close, do you, JT?”

For a split second, his eyes flashed fire, then it was gone. “I prefer to keep women and dates uncomplicated.”

She’d seen into his soul in that split second. The raw pain that still lived there, the blame he held. That she deserved. She swallowed and faced the consequences of her actions. “Uncomplicated, meaning not letting anyone close enough to hurt you the way I did.”

He stared at her with a fervent intensity for a long moment before lifting his glass and looking around the restaurant again.

“I’m sorry, JT,” she whispered.

He flinched but didn’t look back at her, his gaze fixed out the window, on the street’s passing traffic. “Nothing to be sorry for.” His voice was light. Too light. “You ended it early enough to save us both a lot of pain. Much better you did it when we were kids than a few years down the track when our lives were too integrated.”

“I’m still sorry. I was so engulfed in my own grief that I handled everything badly. I should have explained more. Or something.”

“I’ll buy some pasta tomorrow,” he said, blatantly changing the subject. “Now you have a craving for it, I’ll make you some during the week.”

Her heart flipped over in her chest. He was planning to stay? The only reason she’d let her guard down and allowed him to share her bed was they’d understood it was time-limited. A very short time frame. If he stayed longer, she wasn’t sure if her defenses would last, and then she’d be back in the middle of loving him again. Unthinkable. Besides, she’d kept him from his own life for too long while he played nursemaid.

She ran a finger around the rim of her glass. “You were only staying for the first trimester. I’m over the danger now. You’re free to leave.”

“It would be safer if I stay.”

“It would be safer if I admitted myself to hospital and was under constant surveillance from a medical team, but that would be overkill. I’ll be fine on my own. I want to do this on my own.”

His eyes narrowed, their green becoming darker, more intense. “I can’t approve that plan.”

“I promise I’ll let you know if I have any problems, but I think you need to move back to your own place, don’t you? We need to get things working…I don’t know…working the way we’re going to be working in the future.”

He rubbed his hand over his shadowed chin, considering, and she wondered if he’d insist. And how could she possibly counter JT when he insisted?

He sipped his drink and watched her over the rim, his eyes heating. “I’d miss your bed too much to leave just yet.”

Her skin prickled with awareness; her blood heated. She would miss him in her bed, too. The ache of his absence was already beginning to bloom throughout her body. But that was even more reason to make the break now-she couldn’t fall into a false relationship with him, something based on sex and their shared baby. Lines had been too blurred, but going forward, they needed to be as clear as possible to protect everyone.

“We knew that your living with me would be temporary. And I appreciated your putting yourself out by staying with me.”

“It’s no hardship,” he said, his eyes heavy-lidded.

Her heart skipped a beat. The pull of him was as powerful as ever and she had to call on all her reserves of strength not to snake her hand across the table just to feel his skin. They were playing with fire-why was she the only one to recognize that?

She arched an eyebrow and pinned him with a look. “Tell me, JT, do you want to be in a relationship with me? A future with all the trimmings? Vows and promises?”

A grimace passed across his face, as if he’d eaten something distasteful.

“No.” The word was said softly, but with conviction and despite it being the answer she’d expected, the rejection nonetheless stung deep inside.

She stuffed the reaction away from her awareness and met his gaze. “Then don’t let us fall into a relationship by default. If you stay, sleeping in my bed, preparing for our baby, we’ll end up playing happy families and you’ll be stuck in a simulated marriage without ever having chosen it.”

His eyes widened as he took in her meaning, and seemed to finally understand how thin the ice they were skating on had become.

“I’ll be gone tomorrow,” he said, and called for their bill.

She watched him settle the account and then pull the chair out for her. He guided her from the restaurant, holding himself more distant than he had only minutes before. Her chest twisted as she acknowledged something between them had changed forever.

The next morning, JT was sliding scrambled eggs onto plates when Pia came into the kitchen tying a scarf around her neck. He paused and watched her make the loose knot. She was wearing the same cappuccino skirt and button-down jacket that she’d worn the day he’d first seen her again in her office. But this time she had a soft scarf in emerald and jade greens, her flame-bright hair falling about her shoulders instead of pinned back, and-his gaze dipped-open-toed shoes that exposed rose pink toenails. His pulse spiked. He’d always had a thing for painted toenails. But Pia had been right last night-he needed to keep his emotional distance and not fall into the trap of forming a faux relationship.

Co-parenting was one thing. But he would never again entrust his heart to her unreliable hands.

“Nice scarf,” he said, pulling his gaze away and reaching for the pan of fried mushrooms.

She fingered the fabric. “Is it too much? I had some silk left after I made the trim on a straw hat the other day and thought it would match this suit.”

Seeing her reclaiming some of who she was made him feel a little lighter, despite the way things were between them. “It’s perfect. Orange juice is on the table, and breakfast is coming.”

“I’ll miss your cooking,” she said casually as she looked around the kitchen. “Is that baked tomatoes I smell?”

He hesitated. Perhaps he should stay longer? Ensure she was eating properly for their baby. His resolve of the night before began to waver. No, she wanted him to go, it was the right thing for him to do, and she was an adult, more than capable of preparing healthy food for herself. He took the tomatoes from the oven and slid them onto the plates before carrying them out and setting them on the table.