No matter what answer I gave, I’d have been fucking myself over.
So rather than respond, I tore off my mic pack and exited stage left. I wasn’t going to sit there like a doormat and be disrespected by a spray-tanned, fake-toothed woman gaming for ratings at the expense of my personal life.
Although I have zero desire for a family of my own, storming off her set had absolutely nothing to do with my feelings toward children and everything to do with respect.
Respect for myself, for my relationship at the time, and for the boundaries that woman crossed without a second thought.
“I’m navigating this minute by minute—just like you,” I tell her. “Half the time, I don’t know what to think.”
“I just think maybe it’s not a good idea to talk about her anymore.” She bites her lower lip and offers an apologetic expression. Cupping a hand over her heart, she says, “Thank you again, Fabian.”
Her car begins to roll backwards and she glances in the rearview.
“Wait.” I hook my hands on the frame of her open window. “I don’t even know your name.”
Looking away, she drags in a breath so hard it lifts her shoulders. “And we should keep it that way.”
I release my hold on the door and watch the nameless mother of my child drive away, her license plate so dusty I can only make out three letters—SRY.
Sorry.
Yeah, me too.
An empty, dented soda can rolls past me, coming to a stop in the grass. I scoop it up and drop it in a trash can on my way back. Never in my life have I related to a piece of garbage before, but I can’t help but notice the hollowness in the center of my chest that wasn’t there an hour ago.
Heading back to the conference room, I walk back into a war zone, both sides quarrelling over ethics and legalities, spewing threats and ultimatums.
I tune them out, focusing on the window that showcases the parking lot, replaying the last few minutes’ events in my head on a loop. That hypnotic blue gaze. Those bitten-pink lips. The soft curves. And the sass. All of that and she’s the mother of my child—a part of me grew inside of her.
Whether I know her name or not, we’ll always be connected.
I think about the healthy baby girl who looks like me—the one I’ll never meet.
Rising, I interrupt their quarrel. “If you’ll all excuse me, I’m going to head back to the hotel. Steen, Farber, make sure you negotiate a killer deal for my recipient. It’s the only way I’ll sign a damn thing.”
With that, I head out. And within minutes, I’m driving back in radio silence. By the time I pull into the hotel valet lane, I have no recollection of the drive. My mind was too focused on her.
The beautiful, mystery baby mama who wants absolutely nothing to do with my money, my time, or me.
Chapter 5
Rossi
* * *
“How’d it go?” Carina asks the instant I walk in the door.
I drop my purse and keys on the kitchen island and head to the living room, where my daughter drops blocks into a bucket. Her eyes light when she sees me, and when I take a seat beside her, she hands me a blue wooden cylinder.
“You seem … frazzled.” Carina takes a seat across from me and pages through a soft ballerina book. “What’d they offer?”
I blow a puff of hair between my lips. “Twenty-five grand. Can you believe that?”
“That’s it?”
I nod, rolling my eyes. “Their lawyers claimed they didn’t legally owe me anything because the breach didn’t involve my name—only his. But they were sorry and they wanted to offer this.”
“If they don’t legally owe you anything, why have you sign an NDA?”
Shrugging, I say, “Who knows. Maybe it’s a precaution.”
“The whole thing sounds shady. Did you sign though?”
“Nope.” I reach for a purple triangle and hand it to Lucia.
“So … what are you going to do?”
“Going to find a lawyer of my own, have them go over the contract and just make sure everything’s kosher,” I say. “And then I’m going to act like none of this ever happened.”
“Is that even possible?”
“Probably not—but I’m going to try.” Lucia crawls to the far corner of her blanket to grab a stuffed elephant. Once there she promptly shoves the snout in her mouth. I envy her blissful unawareness, and I intend to keep it going for as long as I can. Her life is so easy, so uncomplicated. And that’s exactly what she deserves.
That said, if there’s one thing I’ve seen in my career that has completely decimated families, it’s secrets and lies. My baby’s not even a year old yet, and already I’m burdened with hiding her father’s identity from her until she’s grown enough to comprehend this.
“So … I met him,” I blurt. The entire way home, I debated bringing it up to Carina. It all happened so fast, our little exchange in the parking lot. And for half the drive home, I wondered if I imagined it.”