The Trouble With Him: A Secret Pregnancy Romance (The Forbidden Love 3)

“And how are the orders going?”

“We’ve sold out on most of the swimwear, and that’s on pre-order only. The team is trying to see if we can increase manufacturing speed to fulfill orders, especially because we’re only at the beginning of summer. We didn’t expect it to take off. The loungewear and jewelry are what we’re working on now. Dad is really pushing me to produce locally.”

“It always was going to take off, honey.” Mom beams then places her hand on mine. “You understand what women want. You make them feel empowered. By doing that, they feel confident in your product.”

So then, why all of a sudden do I feel like an imposter? An empowered woman wouldn’t sleep with her sister's ex-fiancé because she felt worthless.

“Perception, it’s powerful in its own right.” My feet touch the floor as I hop off the stool with one sandwich in hand. “I’m going to unpack and catch up on some emails.”

“Ava, is everything all right?”

I let out a sigh. “I hope so, Mom.”

There is always a nostalgic feeling when I lay on my childhood bed and stare at the ceiling. I’ve done it so many times I’ve lost count. From the time I first got my period, wondering if I looked any different because I had officially become a woman. To when I lost my virginity for the first time, questioning why having sex was so hyped since my experience was less than desirable.

The wallpaper is blush-colored. It’s subtle enough not to come across as overly girly and was my favorite color growing up. Against the back wall is the king-sized bed which I lay on. The plain white duvet, along with perfectly positioned pillows, style the bed nicely. In the middle of the two large pillows is my stuffed cow—Petunia. I dragged this thing around everywhere from the moment I began crawling, according to Mom, which is why it's tattered and covered in stains.

Removing my shoes, I toss them to the floor, then grab Petunia to inhale her scent. Just like I remember—she smells of fabric softener. Mom tried her damned hardest to clean her up, but nothing will bring Petunia back to her original condition. The corners of my lips curve upward at the scent of the stuffed childhood toy, and gradually, I find my shoulders relaxing.

Petunia continues to sit on my chest as I roll over to my side and reach for my phone in my purse. When I disembarked the plane earlier this afternoon, a text from Austin came through. He had told Lane the truth and broke it off. I’m not sure why a simple text brought this unknown wave of satisfaction. What did I have to be jealous about? We weren’t together, and I don’t harbor romantic feelings for Austin.

Nevertheless, I muster up the courage to respond.

Me: Sorry, I know it wouldn’t have been easy.

I guess, if I’m honest with myself, a huge part of me was worried they would stay together, and she would be a stepmother to my child.

Just as my thoughts spiral into uncharted territory, my phone pings.

Austin: Good luck tonight. Not sure if that’s the right sentiment. I’m working tonight but just text me if you need me.

Me: I don’t think there is such a thing as luck. Though maybe I should say that to you? My dad is ruthless.

Austin: Believe it or not, I’ve stopped worrying about Lex. I may not have the gold star from him, but that’s cool.

Me: I forgot that you were his golden star once upon a time. The doctor extraordinaire. Maybe this won’t be that bad.

There’s a knock on my door. It opens as Addy pops her head in.

“Hey, sis. Glad to have you back.”

Out of all us siblings, Addy is the most level-headed. She never creates d

rama, always focuses on her studies, and does her own thing. Addy rarely dates guys, or at least—she never mentions anyone. Hands down, she lives the most uneventful life out of all of us. Plus, she’s incredibly smart studying psychology.

She throws herself on the end of my bed, leaning on her elbow. So many people say we look alike. The same goes for Alexa. The shading of our hair is the same as Dad’s, and of course—the emerald eyes. Addy has Mom’s nose if I must point out something that’s slightly different to me. Oh, and she’s taller—another trait from Dad.

Millie is the only one who is the spitting image of Mom except for the eyes. We used to joke that she came from a different father, but of course, Dad never saw the humor in that.

As Addy grew older, we became close, but our relationship is a lot different from Millie’s and mine. We’re not as explosive together which many people agree on, including my parents.

And if there’s anyone I can confide in, it’s the person lying on my bed twisting her long braid between her fingers.

“Addy…” I begin with, only to pick Petunia up for comfort. “I need your help.”

“What’s wrong?” Addy immediately sits up, her eyes broadening with concern. “Are you sick? Because, no offense, you look tired.”

“Yes, no, I’m pregnant.”