Shit. That hadn’t come out right. But…it was accurate. We weren’t in love. Right?
She gave me a small smile, and I frowned at the way it didn’t reach her eyes. “Oh, and about the whole pretending to be married thing.”
“We are married, Kinsley Bradford,” I snapped.
“Right, I meant pretending to be—um—you know, in love and all that.” She shuffled her feet and clasped her hands in front of her nervously. “I was hoping you’d agree to keep up the same pretense around my brother.”
“You didn’t tell him the truth?” I asked curiously. I adjusted myself as discreetly as possible, then stuck my hands in my pockets to keep from grabbing her and kissing her again. I wanted to see the light of fire in her eyes again.
“No, I made something up about having met you at work and knowing right away we were meant to be together…blah, blah, blah. I didn’t think he would have agreed to take the money and have the surgery otherwise.” She shrugged and watched me for a response.
“Sure.”
Her face softened. “Thanks.”
A knock on the kitchen door startled us, and I rolled my eyes at my nosy mother’s tactics. “What can we do for you, Mother?”
Her blond head poked around the corner, but her eyes were tightly shut. “Are you two decent?”
Kinsley’s face was red as a tomato, and I couldn’t help laughing. She stuck her tongue out at me before turning to face my mom.
“I’m so sorry, Lynn. That was inappropriate and—”
“Nonsense!” my mother declared with a chuckle. Then she smiled coyly and patted her perfectly coiffed hair. “Malcolm and I have certainly been caught with our hair down, so to speak, a time or two in our early days.”
I groaned and scrubbed my hands over my face. “Early days,” I scoffed. “I wish you’d gotten it out of your system then. Franny and I are both scarred from walking in on you two…ugh, never mind. I don’t want to think about it.”
“Oh! Right, that’s what brought me in here. Frances, Paul, and the kids stopped by.” Then she slipped her arm around Kinsley’s waist and led her away while chattering on about my sister and her family.
I waited a few more moments to make sure everything was…soft, before following them to the large, open living room with rows of windows that overlooked Park Avenue.
“Uncle Suwiven!” my two-year-old niece, Lenora, screamed as soon as she saw me and came barreling toward me.
“Hey, munchkin!” I bent and caught her as she ran into my arms, then swung her around and settled her on my hip. “How’s my beautiful girl?”
Lenora started to babble, with only around a quarter of what she was saying actually understandable. I gave her appropriate reactions, but my attention drifted to the women standing by the window.
My mother and Franny were chatting with Kinsley, who was holding my baby nephew, Peter. There was a glow about her that was impossible to miss as she stared down into the sleeping face of the baby.
Franny smiled and rubbed her swollen belly before taking a seat on the nearest upholstered chair. “You’re a natural.”
My mother threw me a sly and slightly smug smile. I shook my head and gave her a warning glare. The last thing I needed was for her to start badgering me and Kinsley for kids. I didn’t want Kinsley to change her mind about having kids when I wasn’t willing to budge on the issue.
At just that moment, Kinsley glanced in my direction, and her face softened as she watched me interact with Lenora. Peter started to fuss, and she turned back to him, cooing and gently soothing him.
The world went fuzzy for a second and when it cleared, suddenly I didn’t see Kinsley standing there holding my nephew. She was cradling a little baby girl with her mother’s dark hair and blue eyes. One that looked just like Kinsley but with the smallest hint of Bradford in her features.
I frantically shook my head to dispel the image. Where the fuck had that come from?
“You’ve been awfully quiet since we left your parents’ house,” Kinsley murmured. “Are you alright?”
I was standing in my home office, nursing a tumbler of scotch and staring out the window, deep in thought. “Yes. Sorry, I’m just distracted”—I took a swig of the alcohol and enjoyed the slow burn. Then I threw her a blank smile—“with work stuff,” I lied. “You go ahead and go to bed.”
“Okay. If you’re sure.” She took a step forward, but then seemed to change her mind and stopped abruptly. “Goodnight.” She was gone before I could say it back.
I turned back to the view without really seeing it. The truth was that I couldn’t stop thinking about everything that had happened today, from finding out about her brother to the extremely bizarre mirage of her holding our child.