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“Sounds good. I’ve already ordered a cake from Boutineer’s across the street. It’ll have a tiny blue baseball uniform on it, and I drew a tiny version of the MLB device for them to put on there, too.” Pamela grinned as she described the cake.
My heart jumped in my chest. “Blue?”
Pamela grinned, nodding. “She’s having a boy.”
I had a sudden urge to bolt, to run. If I’d followed the impulse I had no doubt I’d have been at Holland’s side as soon as it was physically possible. We were having a boy . . . the news hit me like a truck. It was like a song that had been playing on endless loop that I couldn’t quite name, a song that I could suddenly identify. My baby. My son.
With a burst of certain clarity, I knew I needed to fix things. I knew it wouldn’t have been any different if Pamela had told me we were having a girl, and I hated that it had taken me this long to realize what I must have known all along. I would be in this baby’s life. I would be in Holland’s life. If she would let me.
“Oliver?”
“Perfect. That sounds good.” I was having difficulty concentrating.
“I’ve emailed the sales team, analytics, and development, and all the folks on this floor and Holland’s. Anyone I missed?”
“Sam in the coffeehouse.” I liked to include Sam, and had told him many times I’d give him a more substantial job if he ever wanted it. I secretly hoped his music career took off, though.
Pamela’s face lit up for the briefest of moments and then returned to normal. Her unwitting revelation distracted me from my own quickly turning mind, and I couldn’t help but push. “You know Sam, right? Tall blond-haired guy? Makes a mean cappuccino?”
“I know Sam,” she said, her face a mask again.
“And . . . ?”
“There is no ‘and.’ We talk sometimes when I get coffee. He’s very nice.”
“A serious musician,” I added.
“I know.” The tiniest dreamy tone crept into her voice on those words, and I watched her, sure there was something going on between her and Sam. And if there wasn’t, I decided maybe there should be. “So,” Pamela said, clearing her throat to change the topic. “Next Friday afternoon, then. One o’clock.”
I nodded, imagining Holland at the head of the long table, glowing as she saw how many of her friends and coworkers had come to celebrate with her. Evenpulling her image into my mind caused my body to react. I’d had a hard time seeing her around work lately because the impulse to push her into a closet and take her was almost overpowering. Pregnancy agreed with her, and every time I saw her, my dick went rogue. Her hair was thicker and shinier than I’d ever seen it before, the glossy waves brushing the tops of her incredible breasts as she moved. Her skin was lit with a luminance I’d never seen on another woman, and the curves that had taken over her body were completely insane. I wanted time to explore them, time to run my hands over every single inch of her incredible skin. I wanted to lie beside her and kiss every inch of her, feel the swell of her belly and make her understand how fucking beautiful she was. But she wasn’t mine now. And it was my own fault. And I was going to fix it.
“Oliver?” Pamela leaned forward, lifting an eyebrow as she met my gaze.
“Sorry. What?”
She shook her head. “I just asked if you’d be coming to the shower.”
“I’ll try,” I said, my voice weaker than I wanted it to be. I would have to fix things—there was no way I could be in the same room with Holland now, celebrating our baby, and be unable to touch her, to claim her.
“You know,” Pamela said as she stood. “Sometimes we’re ready for things when we don’t even think we are.”
“Don’t be obtuse,” I snapped. “What the hell are you saying?”
Pamela looked surprised, and her head pulled back as her eyes widened.
“Sorry,” I said. “What do you mean?”
“Just that maybe you underestimate yourself.”
I shook my head. “I’ve always had a pretty high opinion of myself, unfortunately.”
She shrugged. “You’re a better man than you give yourself credit for.”
CHAPTER 26
Holland
Delia arrived at my office a half hour before the shower was slated to begin, and she found me staring into space from my seat behind my desk. I needed this pregnancy to be over. Combining soul-sucking heartbreak with zero sleep, too much ice cream, and feet that no longer fit into my favorite work shoes was a recipe for disaster.
