The Millionaire Affair (Love in the Balance 3)

Maybe because her apartment was now filled with baby furniture. Cramped, but it had all fit. She’d expected to feel an overwhelming sense of accomplishment after she’d stuffed her tiny space. She didn’t. What she felt mostly was bone-tired. Fatigue was the houseguest who wouldn’t leave, settling in and joining her at the least convenient times. She’d fallen asleep in the storeroom yesterday, for Pete’s sake. Ridiculous.

Kimber had never been the kind of girl to dream of being pregnant, but she’d assumed that when and if she was, the father of the child would be in her life. Landon had tried to be in her life, in the most demanding way. At the time that’d upset her, but now… now that she was dealing with things alone…

If she had overreacted, it was too late to take back now. This wasn’t the kind of situation where she could conk herself on the head and say, “Oops, my bad.” Not that anyone said “my bad” anymore anyway.

The ugly truth was her apartment was too small. And he’d been right. The stairs were inconvenient—had been since she’d moved in. Exhausted at the end of a long day, the trek was like scaling the side of a mountain. And Hobo Chic, the store she’d fought to keep on Meringue Avenue, the store that had started out as her passion, her living, breathing dream, had turned into something else. She enjoyed working there, but the place wasn’t the end-all-be-all it used to be.

The baby had taken the store’s place… along with the sketches she drew on the nights she was unable to sleep. She’d been creating new clothing designs and dreaming up a new venture in the process. Her own clothing line. A store on Michigan Avenue.

It’d have to be a slow-build. Like, really slow. Maybe after she bought Mick out she could increase her clientele at Hobo Chic, sell the store at a profit…

Sure and then I’ll win the lottery, and ride a unicorn into the sunset, she thought grimly. The fantasy of moving her store, having her own clothing line, and raising a child was… well, a fantasy.

Babies were expensive. Even babies of millionaires. And she refused to ask Landon for more than his fair share. She was no gold-digger. She wouldn’t ask him to provide her with a lifestyle she hadn’t earned. Didn’t deserve.

I never should have pushed him away.

The thought was so out of left field, she choked on her tea. She waved at a neighboring table when they looked on with concern. “I’m fine,” she croaked.

But she wasn’t fine. She was an idiot. She’d ignored her heart, ignored her feelings. All because… because she was trying to be someone she wasn’t. Because she’d allowed her past to predict her future. She’d ignored every instinct she had about Landon. And why? Because she’d failed in the past? But this situation was unlike anything she’d ever experienced. She’d never been pregnant, and she’d never known anyone—never loved anyone—the way she loved Landon.

He’d been a recurring thought, looping her brain every day. Maybe because half of him grew inside of her. Of course she’d think of him. If she hadn’t been pregnant, she wondered if they would have stayed together? Yes. They would. There was too much connection, too much desire, too much joy between them to walk away.

So why did she insist on walking away when they shared something as epically life-changing as a child? Because she’d screwed up, that’s why.

Picking a corner off the muffin, she chewed forlornly, no longer hungry. When he’d come to her house, she’d shoved him away. Demanded an agreement. An arrangement, she thought with a wince. And he’d been there… why? Why had he come to her apartment?

She sipped her tea and thought back to the night he’d climbed her stairs and tried to kiss her. After she’d refused him, she’d steered the conversation and, like the captain on the Titanic, had gone down with the ship. Landon may have taken charge when it came to drafting their agreement, but only because she’d asked. He’d looked downright resigned while doing it, she recalled with a stab of certainty.

What if… she shouldn’t think it… but she did anyway. What if he came there that night to say he loved me?

She loved him. No doubt about it. All the pragmatic and practical arguments she’d been making were forced. That had been her, trying to be someone she wasn’t. She wasn’t practical or pragmatic. Why hadn’t she trusted her heart? Just one more time?

She’d denied her feelings, denied the man she loved. And why? Because she was a modern-day woman who had a baby in her belly? A baby that wouldn’t be there if not for Landon. A baby that was as much his as hers. A baby he’d been so terrified of losing that he’d agreed to a rigid, black-and-white arrangement at her behest.