Forbidden: An Older Man Younger Woman Romance - Page 46

And yet, someone else was now carrying around that knowledge. They knew before I did. At the very least, they learned at the same moment I did. It felt like I didn’t even have the chance to process it. It was happening too fast.

Ally’s face went pale, and then color crept up the sides of her neck and onto her cheeks. She looked like she didn’t know what to say, and I noticed her shoulders shaking slightly. She got ahold of herself, squaring her shoulders off to me and pushing them down as she lifted her chin slightly. It was a show of defiance, trying to act like she was strong and unaffected by what was going on. Maybe even like she was angry.

“What did I just hear you say?” I asked slowly.

I was doing everything I could to keep my voice calm and steady.

No matter how many emotions were coursing through me and despite the heat prickling on the back of my neck and burning in my chest, I needed to stay as calm and in control as I possibly could. Letting my emotions get the best of me would only make the situation harder. If that were possible.

“You heard me?” she asked. “You were listening to my conversation?”

Maybe she wasn’t pretending. Her voice was sharp with anger, obviously offended I would eavesdrop on her phone call. But this wasn’t the time for her to get up in arms. Now was not a moment she got to decide she was offended or put off by me. There were far bigger issues at hand than whether she could consider the back wall of a vineyard courtyard a private area for a phone call.

“You said my name,” I said. “I was walking by the courtyard, and I heard it. I recognized your voice. I thought you called out to me, so I came to see what you needed.”

“And when you realized I was on the phone, you just stood there and listened to my conversation?” she asked.

“Come off it, Ally. Don’t pretend like the biggest issue right now is whether I listened to three seconds of a phone call. I heard what you said.” I paused, giving her time to think about what to say, and wondering what those thoughts were. She didn’t say anything more, and I realized if I wanted this conversation to continue, I was going to have to be the one to continue it. “So, is it true? You’re pregnant?”

She was completely still for a second, but then she nodded. She didn’t say anything. Not that I would have heard her anyway. The rushing of the blood in my ears and my spinning, colliding thoughts were far too loud for me to hear anything else. We stood there staring at each other, seeming to both struggle with the thoughts going through our heads and waiting for the other one to say something.

When neither of us did, I couldn’t take standing there a moment longer. I didn’t know what to say to her. I needed to get away. From her. From the conversation. From the vineyard. From everything.

I turned and walked away. I thought I heard her crying behind me, but I didn’t pause or look over my shoulder. I ignored everything else around me and didn’t stop until I got to my truck. I climbed in and drove away without saying a word to anyone.

Maybe I should have let someone know I was leaving. One of my brothers or a member of the crew. Someone. They would wonder where I was, especially considering when I overheard Ally I was on my way to meet with the crew and talk about the project underway that day. After a while they were going to start wondering what happened to me.

I highly doubted she was going to volunteer the information to anyone.

But I didn’t care. They would figure out I left, and if they really needed me, they could call me. I couldn’t stand to be at the vineyard anymore. Right then, I needed to get as far away from it as I could.

The next thing I knew, I was at home, sitting in Monica’s chair in the garage, staring at the wall with no idea what I was supposed to do next. It was where she always sat when she was relaxing or just needed to think. She loved the soft, well-worn fabric and even the garish floral arm protectors her grandmother had made for her when we got married.

This was where I’d find her sitting when she was trying to work through a problem or needed to think something out. It was where she would curl up with her favorite blanket and a good book on a rainy day. It was where she sat when she was sick, stealing the footstool from in front of the couch so she could turn the chair into a makeshift bed.

Tags: Natasha L. Black Romance
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