Greek (Palm South University)

Turns out I’m going to be a mom.

And boy or girl, my baby is going to have the best dad ever.

IT’S AN UNBEARABLY HOT night for December, sweat beading at the base of my neck and dripping down my spine as I walk through downtown. It doesn’t help that work was chaotic today, holiday weddings being of a special kind of demanding nature all their own. I thought we would have a lull in the season until spring, but since Florida is about the only state not covered in snow right now, we’re a hot spot for winter weddings.

In a way, I appreciate the workload. Because while my heart and soul feel at peace for the first time in months, keeping busy has helped me avoid one unfortunate fact.

I have to tell Jarrett my decision.

Kade assured me there was no rush when he saw how anxious I was after our night reunited. He even offered to do it for me, to take the brunt of his brother’s pain so I wouldn’t have to. But it’s not his battle to fight.

I got myself into this mess.

I have to be the one to crawl out of the mud.

My heart beats loud and off rhythm in my ears as I approach the building where Jarrett’s office is. The building itself is owned by a bank, the floors above it occupying small and large businesses alike, everything from tech companies and law firms to advertising agencies and nonprofits.

I take a seat in the lobby at five after five, crossing my legs and balancing my hands in my lap as I wait. I didn’t have the lady balls to ask him to meet me. Hell, I didn’t even know today was going to be the day I’d break the news. I just felt it. About halfway through the afternoon, my stomach flipped violently, chills breaking on my skin, and I knew it was time.

At five-thirty, I start to wonder if he’s already gone for the day. The holiday season seems to be a weird one for anyone working in a nine-to-five. It’s like the month of December allows permission to leave early, come in late, and take longer weekends without explanation.

But just as I’m thinking maybe I should text him, the elevator dings, and he walks off with a group of four other individuals.

Two of them are laughing at something on a phone screen while Jarrett and a middle-aged woman converse quietly, Jarrett speaking animatedly with his hands as she listens.

The first sight of him makes my stomach drop.

Dressed in relaxed navy slacks and a crisp cream button down, he looks every bit relaxed as he does business-ready. His head is freshly shaved, beard trimmed neat, and though he’s smiling as he talks with the woman, I see the same evidence in him that I saw in Kade, that I’ve seen in myself, proof that sleep hasn’t come easy.

Dark bags under his eyes.

Slumped shoulders.

Strained concentration as he tries to listen to the woman’s response to whatever he’s said.

Emotion tries to strangle me as I stand, tries to tear me from where I stand on that marble floor and steer me outside before he can see me.

But I’m tired of running.

I’m ready to face him — even if I know it will hurt like hell.

He almost blows past me, and I’m fully prepared to chase him out into the streets. But just as his colleagues sweep through the revolving door, he stops dead in his tracks, stilling like a deer spotted by a hunter before he slowly, carefully, cranks his neck to look at me.

A myriad of emotions wash over him in a split second, everything from shock and delight to pain and fear. I watch each of them show themselves in his eyes, his lips, his stature before he takes a tentative step toward me.

The woman he was speaking to pops her head back to check on him, and he tells her to go on, that he’ll catch up. Her eyes skirt to me suspiciously before she leaves, and then it’s just the two of us in the vast, echoing lobby.

His eyes warm the closer he gets, one hand holding a messenger bag, while the other slips into the pocket of his slacks. He takes his time trailing the length of me, no doubt noticing that while I wear the same pained expression as he does, I look better than I have since the day he showed back up at Palm South.

I think he knows already, before I can say a word.

“Hello,” he says after a long pause.

I offer a small, apologetic smile in return. “Hi.”

Jarrett sniffs, looking away from me and out the large windows before his gaze reluctantly travels back. “I think I need a drink for this.”

He doesn’t say another word before turning for the door, and I follow him outside, the two of us walking silently next to each other until we duck inside a small bar a block over.