Total pages in book: 81
Estimated words: 78807 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 394(@200wpm)___ 315(@250wpm)___ 263(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 78807 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 394(@200wpm)___ 315(@250wpm)___ 263(@300wpm)
“Then don’t break off the engagement. You said Robin was amenable to an open arrangement.”
“She practically insisted on it.”
“Tell her the truth and be up front about it. Maybe don’t mention you got Dara pregnant the night before you met her, but make it clear you knocked the girl up before anything was official. Tell her this kid won’t change things. You don’t have to blow everything up.”
I tilt my head to the side, looking up at the sky. Genna’s right, I don’t have to ruin the engagement if I talk with Robin first. I can be open and honest about everything, and hell, maybe she’ll even understand. It’s not like she gives a fuck about me—so long as I promise that I will make her kids the priority, maybe she’ll accept this.
But how can I live with that ugly compromise?
Dara would be the other woman.
My child with her would always be secondary in my life, if I even get to spend any time with them. Dara will be pushed aside, provided-for financially, but never a part of my life.
I’ll never see them.
And for some reason, the idea pisses me off.
“You know what’s fucked?” I say, musing to myself. “That doesn’t sound appealing.”
“Be rational here, Finn. If you ruin this engagement, you’ll bring down the heat from both your father and her father. Everyone will be livid. You will suffer.”
“All very true.”
“But you should ask yourself another question: what do you really want? When you think about the next ten years, do you see yourself with Robin? Raising babies with her?”
I clench my jaw. What do I see when I close my eyes?
I only see Dara.
Ever since I slept with her, it’s only been Dara.
But just because the sex was incredible and we had one amazing night together, doesn’t mean I should destroy my life for her.
I barely know the girl, but I do know what I’d get with Robin.
It might be a cold, uncomfortable relationship, a loveless one where we’re more partners than anything else, but at least it would further my family’s goals.
Dropping everything for Dara is the height of selfishness.
“I have to think about it,” I say after a long pause.
“Yeah, I bet you have a lot of thinking to do. Just, do me a favor, think with your head and not with your dick, all right?”
“My dick is smart enough to handle this.”
She groans. “That’s what I’m afraid of.”
“Thanks for talking to me. See you later.”
“Good luck. I don’t envy you right now, Finn.”
I hang up the phone and stay on the balcony drinking until the doorbell rings. It’s one of my young soldiers, a kid named Shane. I take the duffel bag he offers, slip him some cash, and head back upstairs to the guest suite. I pause only to grab her a bottle of water from the minifridge in my room.
The light are out. I sneak inside, moving quietly. I place the duffel on a chair and the water on the nightstand. As I turn to go, she stirs, her hair falling away from her face.
I stare down at her, my eyes adjusting to the dark.
Fuck, she looks so beautiful, wrapped up in the sheets, clearly so exhausted she was able to pass out in her clothes. The poor girl has to be going through hell right now—she lost her job, lost her apartment, and now she’s pregnant with my child.
Her lips move as if she’s saying something in her sleep. I can’t make out any words, but I stare at that mouth, and slowly a decision crystallizes in my mind.
Where do I see myself in ten years? Who am I with and what am I doing?
I can’t begin to imagine, but I know the path I have to take.
Chapter 15
Dara
I wake up in a strange room, find a bottle of water on my nightstand and a duffel bag full of clothes and toiletries, and proceed to puke in a very nice toilet.
“God damn it,” I groan as the morning sickness ebbs slightly.
The door to the suite jostles and opens. “Dara?” Finn’s voice, concerned. “Hey, Dara, are you—” He appears in the bathroom door, storming in like he’s ready to fight a war for me, and his eyes go wide as he stares at disgusting, sweaty me, clutching the toilet like I’m making sweet love to it.
I flush. “I’m fine,” I manage. “Morning sickness. I’m okay.”
His panicked expression softens. “What can I do for you?”
“Bring that water over here, please.”
He grabs the bottle and hands it over. “What else? Are you cold? Do you want a blanket?”
“No, please, it’ll pass. Just—just let me get this over with in privacy, please.” I’m mortified that he’s standing there, looking at me as I hug the toilet bowl, but I feel another wave coming and I do not want him to be here for this.