Total pages in book: 151
Estimated words: 142976 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 715(@200wpm)___ 572(@250wpm)___ 477(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 142976 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 715(@200wpm)___ 572(@250wpm)___ 477(@300wpm)
He stared down at the image, as if not entirely certain what he was looking at. His expression was still stony, but there was a fine, barely noticeable tremor in the hand holding the picture.
“It’s definitely mine?” he asked, his voice filled with gravel the size of boulders.
“Yes,” she whispered, uncertain of his reaction and a little resentful that he was able to disguise his feelings to such an extent.
His eyes snapped up to hers, pinning her to the spot.
“I used a condom. Are you absolutely sure?”
She fought not to be offended by what—to a man like Niall Caden Hawthorne—was a very fair question.
“Yes. I wasn’t… I’m not very experienced. There hasn’t been anyone since you.”
“What about before me?” he asked and she flushed and tugged at the high collar of her blouse in an effort lessen the restriction at her throat.
“No. Never.”
“Ever?” His voice was incredulous. “How is that possible? You’re twenty-seven.”
“I told you, I was isolated from the outside world and rarely left unsupervised.”
“Fuck,” he murmured beneath his breath, his fist closing around the ultrasound image, crumpling it. She bit back a protest at the action—reminding herself that she had a copy—and fought back the urge to snatch it away from him. “Fuck.”
The second fuck was loud, angry…and finally gave her some insight into what he was feeling. And it wasn’t anything good.
“So that was your first time? That night?”
“Yes.”
“Goddamnit,” he muttered. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know… I could maybe have made it better for you, even if—”
“Even if you weren’t into it?” she completed and he grimaced. She rolled her eyes and continued. “Let’s forget about the sex, okay? It’s not the most important part of this conversation. I’m sorry your pride was bruised because you didn’t deliver peak performance, but that’s not—”
“Terrible virgin sex that left you pregnant. Fuck me, it’s the world’s worst cliche,” he muttered beneath his breath.
Fern was starting to wonder if all this deflection was because he wasn’t quite ready to deal with the reality of her condition yet.
“Cade,” she prompted gently. “About the baby.”
“I don’t know what—” He swallowed, his fist tightening around the crumpled paper in his hands. “I never gave much thought to fatherhood.”
“I’m not asking you to be my baby’s father, Cade. I don’t expect that. Or want that. I just thought you should know the truth. Because I couldn’t let you continue believing I would lie about such a thing. Not when I’ll start showing soon.”
“And you’re definitely having it?”
Her hands went to her stomach protectively, as if to shield her baby from even the suggestion of any possibility other than absolutely wanting him.
“Yes,” she asserted. “The only reason I’ve done any of this was so that I could keep this baby.”
His jaw tightened and he pushed to his feet, stepping into the aisle of the plane.
“Where are you going?”
“I need a minute,” he snapped.
“Cade, we should—”
“Just a moment, alright?”
“Look, it’s fine if—”
“Fern, I said I need a fucking goddamn moment to process, okay? Just give me a second to fucking do that.”
It was the first time she’d seen him lose his cool and it was pretty spectacular. He was bristling with fury and impatience but at the same time she could see the fear and uncertainty lurking just beneath that incandescent rage and she clamped her mouth shut. She nodded and sat back.
He stalked off toward the sleeping quarters in the back and she strained her neck as she tracked his movements until he disappeared into the separate room, shutting the door firmly behind him.
Rolling her lips into her mouth, Fern settled uneasily into her seat, not sure what—if anything—to do.
Cade sat down on the edge of the bed and looked at the muted beige wall of the plane for a long, fraught moment.
He shouldn’t have lost his temper like that. He wasn’t usually so transparent around others. Especially not around people he wasn’t sure he could trust yet. He always kept a cool head, regardless of the situation. But this was—
He bowed his head, unable to even complete the thought.
Fuck.
The word had been circling around his brain on repeat for the last five minutes. He couldn’t break free of the downward spiral of echoing fucks cascading all around him.
The crumpled edges of the paper in his tightly closed fist, jabbing uncomfortably into his palm jerked him back to reality when he recalled exactly what it was he held clutched in his hand.
His gaze slowly shifted downwards and he uncurled his fist to stare at the balled-up wad of glossy paper in his hand.
“Shit.” The word was soft, vehement, and at least different from the litany of fucks that were slowly fading into the background. He pressed the paper flat on his thigh and tried to smooth the wrinkles out of it. Some of the creases had left white lines in the black ink, but he could still see the tiny blob in the center of the image. He stared at it, transfixed, unable to reconcile the image on this piece of hopelessly crumpled paper, with the less than spectacular act that had apparently led to its conception.