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“Well, you won’t be able to keep it a secret for much longer.” She arches a brow and hooks her arm through mine, tugging me down the hallway. “I’m off in three hours. I’ll come keep you company to make sure you’re not wallowing with a vat of ice cream.”
“I don’t wallow.”
Her lips quirk.
I huff. “You should be sympathetic.”
“I’m sympathetic when you need it, and a pain in your ass when it’s more effective. I love both roles equally.” She gives me a quick hug. “Your mom will be fine. We can tell her about the baby together, if you prefer. I’ll call you tonight.”
I nod, pinching my lips into a tight smile. I walk through the pastel hallways and out the front door, inhaling the ice-cold air outside. Spring will be here soon, and I’ll have a new baby. I’m twelve weeks pregnant, now. The weeks seem to be slipping into each other faster and faster. I have a half-painted nursery, but it still feels like a dream.
Sliding into my car, I head home. My thoughts are elsewhere. With my mother. With Silas. With the future of my child. When I pull into my driveway, I don’t remember anything about the drive. That’s probably dangerous. Sighing, I gather my purse and head inside, only to stop short at the sight on my front balcony.
He’s taller than I remembered. Broader. The lines of his face are more angular, the depth of the blue in his eyes more striking.
Silas is too handsome for his own good. And mine.
My heart clenches so violently I put a hand to my breast, swallowing hard. When I say his name, it comes out as a croak. “Silas,” I say, forcing myself to meet his gaze.
“Hi, Jazz,” he responds, his voice deep and smooth, and ugh, it does something to my insides.
Can’t my body get it together, for once? Can’t I stand in front of him and not feel like I’m coming apart at the seams? Like I’m not going to fall into his arms because he looks like a Greek god and he stares at me like he wants to eat me?
“What are you doing here?” I ask, my voice still not fully functional. I clear my throat, taking a step toward him. “I mean, congrats on the tour. I hear it went well, considering…”
I don’t finish my sentence. Considering everything that happened.
Weight and tension settle between us. He steps aside to let me walk by, but not far enough that I don’t smell his cologne. Manly, woodsy, spicy, him. My poor panties. My underwear has been surviving much longer when he’s not around, which is saying a lot considering I’m pregnant and there are a lot of things going on down there.
I need to get a grip. This must be the pregnancy hormones. He’s literally just standing there, saying close to nothing, and I feel like tearing his clothes off with my teeth and dragging him into my lair.
My hands shake as I bring my key to the lock, getting it open with difficulty. When the door finally swings open, I gesture toward it. “Would you like to come in?”
His eyes widen ever so slightly. “You want me to?”
“I’m being polite.”
“Oh.” He hesitates, pain flashing across his eyes.
There’s a gulf between us. So many unsaid words. Emotions that haven’t been aired. Truths ticking in the depths of my belly that need to be shared. I let out a sigh, my shoulders softening, and gesture to the door with my hand. “Please, Silas.”
He steps across the threshold, and I feel the weight of what’s about to happen. It’s crushing me, bowing my shoulders as I walk inside. I’m about to tell him the truth about the baby. I chickened out of telling my mother today, and fate sent me Silas instead. Serves me right.
The Prince strips his jacket off, and I can’t quite keep myself from staring at him while he does it. How the fabric of his navy sweater tugs across his shoulders. How he runs his fingers through the silky strands of his hair, clearing his throat as he glances at me.
A rush of warmth flows through my gut, and I close my eyes to gather myself. Placing my hand on the wall, I drop my chin and take a deep breath.
“Jazz?” He sounds worried. I feel him get closer, feel him lift his hand even though my eyes are closed. When the backs of his fingers drift over my cheek, I let out a whimper.
A whimper.
Where’s the hard-hitting reporter now? Where’s the tough chick who was ice-cold when I told him to stay away? I’d like to have a word with her if she ever decides to show up again.
Opening my eyes, I seen nothing but concern staring back at me. Silas’s brows tug together. “Are you okay?”
“I didn’t think you’d come here when you got back from the tour, after what I…how we left things.”
His lips curl into a smile, and my heart—treacherous thing—grows in my chest. Warmth spreads down to my toes as Silas reaches for the zipper of my jacket. I let him tug it down and help him push it off my shoulders, hanging it up on a hook next to his.
