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As she stood in the hotel lobby looking for the Napoli Bar where Mark had said they’d meet, she attempted to push the thought aside. She realized she was at war and at peace. Well, of an internal nature.
Ever since Labor Day, her life had been in flux.
That was the only way she could describe it. Turmoil. All the time.
How could it not be so? The man she’d known since Aidan’s first year at college was one of those bastards who could charge a room with energy simply by showing up at the door. He was magnetic. A charmer.
How could she not be at war with herself for being so stupid as to let him get close to her?
And yet, now she’d admitted to herself that she wanted him, and only him, she was at a kind of peace. That internal rumble had begun to die down.
It didn’t matter what happened between them. It didn’t matter if tomorrow was a bust.
Tonight, she knew what she had to do, and that direction, that sense of purpose tasted damn good after having nothing but doubts and insecurities which had been like ashes in her mouth.
The lobby was fancy. But then, that was Mark. He only ever did fancy. The hotels, the restaurants, his apartment… all of it sleek and snazzy. She’d been afraid to put a cup down on the table without a coaster in his living room—it was that kind of place.
Her heels clicked against the floor as she crossed the amber marble and followed the sign for the Napoli bar. Nerves gurgled in her gut. Again. Because this wasn’t going to be pleasant.
Although, nothing about these subsequent days was going to be pleasant.
James, whether he wanted to or not, was going to be a part of her life forever. For a woman who was as regular as clockwork, she knew what a single missed period meant.
Someone, somewhere, was rooting for her and James to get together because she was on the Pill. There had never been a problem with Mark, so either James had super sperm, or the fates were working to push he and Hailey together.
Her lips twitched at the thought, and she was relieved she could find amusement in the moment. She’d probably have caved two weeks into her self-appointed silence had it not been for her missed period. But when she’d taken the early pregnancy test and seen for herself that her internal watch clock hadn’t lied, she’d been left floundering. Yet again.
Truth was, if Mark got antsy tonight, then she’d throw this card at him. She didn’t want to use her baby as a weapon, but she would. Mark was a nice guy. In public.
Hailey wasn’t afraid of him. She wouldn’t phrase it like that, but neither would she say she was at ease. It wasn’t just the baby hormones that were messing with her gut, and that was the truth of it.
The bar was black and red. Monotone. Mark was at the black granite bar on a high red stool. She saw him, ignored the rest of the establishment, and walked over his way. He was talking to a barman, but he must have heard her heels over the low hum of the crowd and the piano playing in the background because he turned around, his eyes lighting up when he saw her.
“I wasn’t sure if you’d wear the dress,” he admitted with a sheepish smile as he climbed off the stool, clasped her arms in his hands, then bent down to kiss her.
She tilted her head to the side, so he could only kiss her cheek, and recognized that she’d made a mistake by wearing the dress. She’d thought to appease him, take him off guard by doing as he’d requested. Instead, he was taking it in a positive light. Reading into this way too much for her own good.
She clambered onto the stool and said, “I’ll have a cranberry juice, please.”
“Splash some vodka in,” Mark directed to the barman as he made the order.
“No! I can’t have any alcohol.”
Mark blinked at her, but nodd
ed at the barman. “Just juice then.” To Hailey, he asked, “Why no alcohol?”
“It’s not agreeing with me at the moment.”
Her platitude seemed to agree with him because he nodded, then grinned brightly at her. “It’s good to see you, Hailey.”
“You’ve seen me nearly every day since you’ve been here, Mark,” she countered. He’d popped up everywhere. The coffee shop she frequented after her daily run. The mall where she’d gone to buy new bed linen. If he didn’t see her out and about, he came to the house for a coffee.
She could add ‘stalkerish’ to the list of adjectives she had to describe him.
“I know, but not like this. We should have met up at the start, dated for real again so I could show you how much you mean to me, but I knew you wouldn’t want to do that. You’re so stubborn sometimes,” he chided. “And I only ever want what’s best for you.”
She frowned at him then took a sip of her juice when the barman placed a chilled glass before her. “I don’t need you to decide what’s best for me, Mark. That’s your problem. You want too much from me. You expect too much, and it’s never for me to just be myself.”
