It seemed to take forever for Brody to finally get Ellie alone. By which time his frustration was almost as visceral as his shock… And panic.
Lorenti’s wife had got involved, then Lorenti’s sister and her husband and the feisty older woman who was apparently Tali’s mother… Then Lorenti himself. They had all ranged themselves against him, to protect Ellie and made him feel like the worst person ever when they’d discovered he was the deadbeat responsible for Ellie’s secret pregnancy.
It was a familiar feeling, because he’d always felt like a deadbeat as a boy, with everyone but her…
He’d had a chip on his shoulder the size of a giant redwood back then—about how everyone had judged him. And he’d worked hard to prove them wrong, eventually.
But when he finally slammed the door of Ellie’s guest cottage behind them, shutting out the crowd of people, the silence seemed to suffocate him as he watched her walk away from him—the silver dress like a second skin, as she hugged herself and stared out into the night.
The people who had judged him before had been wrong. He wasn’t worthless. He’d made something of himself. He’d made a lot.
But how could any of the things he’d achieved mean anything now, when he’d thrown away the only thing that really mattered.
It had always been her. Not just her body, but her trust, her friendship, her kindness, all the things he’d relied on as a kid. The things he’d thought he’d lost. Those precious feelings he’d rediscovered with her that night… And then thrown away again, anyway.
She must have known for months she was carrying his baby and she hadn’t told him. Had she ever been planning to tell him? Because the answer seemed to be a big fat no from the panic and distress on her face when Lorenti’s mother-in-law had let the cat out of the bag.
He let his gaze drift down her figure from behind. He thrust his fists into his pockets as he stepped up behind her, to prevent himself from touching her, from clasping her hips and swinging her around so he could fasten his lips on the pulse point in her neck… And take them away from the emotions swirling around them like a hurricane.
But he’d been a coward before. And he knew he couldn’t be one again.
‘Why didn’t you contact me?’ he asked. ‘Didn’t you want me to know I was going to be a dad?’
She dropped her chin, let out a rough sigh, which made the lead in his belly throb. Then she turned towards him.
He found himself drowning in those beautiful chestnut eyes, even as he cursed the sheen of tears making them glitter, knowing he was the cause.
‘You always told me you didn’t want to be a father when we were kids,’ she said. ‘And then you said to me again that night, you didn’t believe in happy families.’
What?
The lead weight in his gut rose to gag him.
He grasped her arms, tugged her onto her toes, and led with his anger and frustration… Because he was too terrified to acknowledge the fear.
That she had always been able to see through the charade–the bad boy’s don’t-give-a damn cynicism, the billionaire’s arrogance and sense of entitlement—to the miserable little nobody who had never, could never, deserve her or their child.
‘You think stuff I said when we were kids, and that throwaway remark about happy families justifies you not telling me?’ he demanded. ‘Seriously?’
He wanted to be outraged, but he only hated himself more when she pulled free of his hold, and said: ‘You walked away, Brody, not me. How could I trust you again, when what you did brought it all back…’
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