Page 45 of The Billionaire's Promise

Which begged the question, "Why are you here, Brayden?"

"I need to talk to you, sweetheart. There are things to say."

"She doesn't have anything to say to you," Vance shot out. I elbowed him in the side.

"There's nothing to say, Brayden. You cheated on me, then you broke up with me. It turns out that was the best thing you ever did. You got all your stuff out of the house. I checked after you left. Why don't you just get in your car and leave? If you come back, I'm calling the police."

"Sweetheart," Brayden said, his eyes heavy with false remorse. He held a hand out to me as if beseeching me to listen. Unfortunately for him, and for me, I knew him too well to fall for it. He kept going. "I made mistakes. I can admit that. But I want you back."

"Did you lose your job?" I asked evenly.

"No, but—"

"Did your girlfriend break up with you?" I went on.

"She doesn't have anything to do with—"

"You're right. She doesn't have anything to do with this. And I don't care if she kicked you out. All I care about is that you cheated on me with her while we were engaged. I care that you're a liar. But I'm done with you, so I don't care that much."

I turned to face Vance, giving Brayden my back, dismissing him. "Should we go put Rosie down? How long has she been asleep?"

"She'll probably wake up as soon as I unsnap her, but it's worth a try," he said, his smile warm and gentle.

"Did she like jogging?" I asked, smiling a little at the site of Rosie sleeping, not a snot bubble in sight, and at the sound of Brayden grinding his teeth behind me. He'd never liked being ignored.

"Maggie, just a few minutes. I just want to talk to you for a few minutes."

"No," I said, without looking over my shoulder. "I'm done with you. I have nothing to say."

His face hard, jaw set, Vance said, "If you're not in your car by the time we get in the house, we're calling the police."

"Maggie won't call the police on me," Brayden protested.

"Yes, I will," I said. I stepped to the side to give Vance room to turn the stroller around and said, "Scout, backdoor!"

My dog was not the brightest bulb in the box, but he knew what that meant, and he whirled from the gate and took off for the back of the house. I concentrated on getting the door open for Vance to push the stroller through, hoping Brayden was leaving. I'd meant it. I would call the police. I just didn't want to.

To my relief, Brayden got in his car and drove away. I had no idea why he wanted to talk to me. I didn't believe for a second that he wanted to apologize. I don't think Brayden had apologized to me in the four years we’d been together. The only reason he would've wanted to talk to me was if he needed me to do something for him. I was done doing anything for Brayden Michaels.

I had something much more intriguing on my mind, something he'd said. Charlie had said it too, only I hadn't believed her.

Before I could ask Vance anything, he said, "Can you get Rosie? I'm going to jump in the shower."

"I've got her," I said. She didn't wake as I carefully unsnapped her from the jogging stroller and lifted her into my arms.

The stroller was designed to carry a much larger child, but Vance had bought an infant insert to support Rosie’s head and spine in the big seat. It must've been comfortable because she looked like she'd been asleep for a while.

I had her tucked into the swing in the kitchen when Vance came back, wearing an old pair of jeans and a white button-down, untucked and unbuttoned.

I licked my lips. My brain couldn't quite register that we'd had sex that morning. It still seemed impossible. My body, on the other hand, had not only accepted the reality, but it was ready to relive it. First, I had a question.

"Is it true?" I asked. "What Brayden said, that you wanted to sleep with me when he and I were together?"

"You have to ask?" Vance came toward me, intent clear in his eyes.

It looked like his mind was in the gutter, right along with mine, but I wanted an answer before I stripped off his clothes and had my way with him. I sent a quick look at the swing, rocking the sleeping baby, before shaking my head at Vance and tilting it toward the living room.

He followed me out of the kitchen, through the sitting room, and into the formal living room. We rarely used it. It had a beautiful view of the grounds behind the house, but the furniture was stiff and a little too formal. My grandmother's style, not mine.