The image is surprisingly funny. My anger starts to fade as I stare at Lyle.
And then I break. One moment I’m standing, clenching my fists. And then I’m collapsing in the chair and laughing hysterically. I’m laughing so hard that tears spill from my eyes.
This is all so ridiculous. I don’t know what’s going on anymore.
I glance at Lyle. He doesn’t look amused anymore, and my own mirth has begun to fade. It wasn’t even that funny in the first place. But I’ve been so stressed lately that it’s not surprising that I’ve been approaching a full meltdown.
“Amanda…what’s going on?” he asks quietly.
“I broke up with you,” I remind him, but my voice is softer. There are still tears in my eyes, but they’re not from laughter anymore. “Why the fuck did you call me up here and tell me all that?”
“I wanted you to continue working on the alliance with a clear mind,” he admits. “I was worried that your anger at me might eventually affect it. And…”
He hesitates and trails off. I zero in on it.
“And?” I ask sharply.
“And I’m falling in love with you,” Lyle says. The air goes still as I stare at him. “I couldn’t let you go, not without letting you know. I didn’t want you to think that I was manipulating you. I care for you, and I always will.”
I’m barely breathing as I stare at him, shocked by the admission.
What?
Chapter Twenty
Lyle
Amanda is staring at me, her eyes wide. I feel myself tense, but I don’t regret what I just confessed to. I might not have known Amanda for long, but I started falling in love with her the moment I met her. Even if she still leaves me now, I don’t want her to ever think I didn’t care.
“You…what?” she finally breathes.
I pat her hand. I’m not going to repeat it. To say it again will m
ake it seem like I’m begging for another chance at a relationship with her. I don’t want to seem that desperate.
“You have a meeting to get back to,” I remind her gently.
“I… Yes, meeting,” she says.
She seems genuinely shell-shocked. She stands, her movements a little mechanical, and turns.
Then, abruptly, she turns back.
“No,” she blurts out.
I blink at her.
“What?” I ask, confused.
“You…you don’t get to say that and not expect a reply,” she says, waving a finger at me.
“I’m not expecting a reply,” I say with a shrug. “You’ve already made your feelings clear, so…”
“No,” she says again, cutting me off. She’s staring at me intently. “I’m pregnant.”
I stare at her.
“Huh?”