Page 37 of Anti-Hero (Kensingtons: The Next Generation #2)

I reread my letter of resignation yet again, a surprising amount of sadness and dread warring with relief.

When I received an offer from Bradford, Nash, & Monroe LLP yesterday, I was relieved. Grateful. Everything felt a little lighter.

But now, faced with the prospect of telling Kit, I’m mostly apprehensive.

I already attempted to quit once. He knows I’ve been actively looking for other jobs. This position doesn’t start until early January, so I’m not leaving him in a lurch. I’m giving him a full month to find a replacement, not just the traditional two weeks.

Kit and I don’t have a standard boss-employee relationship, however.

Which means I have no idea how he’s going to react. I also don’t know if he’s aware Bradford is the firm Perry works at. Or if I should disclose that, considering the subject of our last argument. Or if I should tell him Perry and I are friends, nothing more.

Ever since the ultrasound, I’ve inserted an extra layer of space between us. I know Kit thinks it’s because of how he reacted to Perry’s message. But I basically used that as an excuse. I was a lot more freaked out by what’d happened earlier in the day.

When I had decided to keep this baby, I had been prepared to do it alone. Even after Kit committed, I was prepared to do it alone. But I’m not sure I would have walked into Dr. Bailey’s office without his reassurances.

And that scared me a lot more than single parenthood.

I wanted him there for me , not as the baby’s father. And if there’s a more potentially catastrophic choice I can make after the series of events that landed me as Kit’s pregnant assistant, it’s falling in love with the man.

Not because he’s my soon-to-be former boss. Or Lili’s brother. Because he’s the father of my child , and that’s not the guy you can casually date without consequences.

“You almost ready?” Margot asks, popping over the ledge of my desk.

I startle, nearly upending my water bottle with my elbow. “Margot! You scared the shit out of me.”

“Sorry.” She giggles. “I’m trying to be stealthy.”

We’re throwing a surprise engagement party for Aimee tonight. Her boyfriend proposed when they were visiting her family for Thanksgiving.

“So?” Margot prompts. “Are you ready to go?”

I glance at the clock—5:02. Stop deliberating and hit Print on the letter. “Yeah, almost. Five minutes.” I stand. “I just have to give something to Kit.”

“Okay. Hurry, yeah?” Margot rushes down the hallway.

I head for the copy room. It’s empty and noticeably warmer than the already-toasty office. The massive machine is churning out documents at a rapid pace.

I tap the screen, sighing when I see two-hundred-plus-page contracts are in the queue ahead of my job.

“Hey.”

I glance over my shoulder at Stella.

“Hey,” I reply, trying to ignore the quickening pace of my heart.

I’m not doing anything wrong, but I feel jumpy. Guilty. I’m closer with Margot, mainly because of what I confided in her, but I consider Stella a friend too.

She glances at the growing stack of paper. “Sorry. I didn’t think anyone else would be trying to print this late in the day.”

“Don’t worry about it,” I say, then glance at the clock. The five minutes I promised Margot have already passed.

Stella catches me and smiles wryly. “Margot stopped by your desk too?”

I smile back. “Sure did.”

“Do you ever leave by five?” Stella’s teasing, but there’s also curiosity in her tone.

I keep my expression neutral as I shrug a shoulder. Kit tends to work later than any other executive on this floor. I’m usually the last assistant to leave. Stella isn’t the first person to comment on it.

The printer pauses for a few seconds.

Stella strides toward it, glancing over the documents. “That should be all of mine,” she tells me. “If anything else comes out, just drop it at my desk?”

I manage a nod, trying not to look too relieved. “Will do.”

“See you in the lobby,” Stella tells me, then walks out.

The printer whirs to life again, spitting out my single sheet of paper.

I grab the warm letter from the tray and hurry back to my desk, scanning the lines of text one final time.

I slip an envelope out of my bag and knock on Kit’s door.

Might as well give this to him now too. Stop avoiding and lay everything out on the table.

“Come in,” Kit’s voice calls a second later.

My fingers fumble with the handle as I open it and step inside his office.

“Hey.” He glances up, giving me his full attention as I close the door.

I swallow nervously. “Hey.”

Kit leans back in his chair, holding eye contact. “What’s up?” he asks cautiously.

The last time I entered his office without a professional reason was with my first letter of resignation. The time before that, a pregnancy announcement. So, I understand his apprehension.

“I have a couple of things to give you,” I state. Fake a cough to clear my throat. “They’re, uh, non-work-related.”

He straightens in his chair, focus sharpening as he nods once.

“Is now an, uh, okay time?” I question.

“Of course. Take a seat.”

I do, fighting a strong burst of déjà vu as I pass him the envelope with the paternity test results first. Dr. Bailey’s office did the test when I was eight weeks. I’ve had the results for more than two months, waiting for Kit to bring it up. He still hasn’t.

Kit takes the envelope, a crease appearing on his forehead as he studies the outside. “This is addressed to you. And”—he flips it over—“it’s unopened.”

“We need to have a custody conversation soon,” I start.

“What does this”—he holds up the envelope—“have to do with custody?”

“It’s a paternity test.”

The explanation doesn’t clear the confusion. Kit’s frown deepens instead. “What?”

“It’s a paternity test,” I repeat. “For your lawyers or whoever needs to see it.”

He tosses the envelope on his desk with a low scoff. “I didn’t ask you to do a test, Collins.”

“I know you didn’t. But I’m sure you wanted to. We’ve never been in a relationship. We weren’t in a relationship when … it happened. I’m sure you’ve wondered if?—”

“I haven’t,” Kit states flatly.

“Okay.” I swallow hard, completely thrown by his reaction.

And increasingly concerned about how the letter is going to land next.

I thought handing him the test results was going to be the easy part.

That he’d nod, thank me for taking care of this, and tuck the envelope in a folder for safekeeping.

“Well, even so, this way, there’s no doubt about?—”

He interrupts, “I didn’t ask you to do this, Collins! And I’m pretty sure collecting my DNA without permission is a federal crime.”

I blanch. Swabbing one of his coffee cups while he was in a meeting seemed simple and harmless, not criminal. Something I thought Kit would laugh or joke about.

“You’re mad that I?—”

“You’re damn right I’m mad.” He roughly runs a hand through his hair. “What the hell happened to making decisions together?”

“This—I—this had nothing to do with the baby. It was about?—”

Again, he interrupts, “Nothing to do with the baby? It has everything to do with the baby. Because I trust you, but you don’t trust me.”

Now, I’m mad. “Because I gave you proof you can trust me? That I told you the truth? That means I don’t trust you? That doesn’t make any sense, Kit!”

He shakes his head. “You didn’t take this test for me. It’s insurance—for you . If anyone asks the question, you wanted to have the evidence handy. And the only reason you’d need evidence was if you didn’t trust me to protect you.”

“That’s not …” I chew the inside of my cheek until I taste copper. “I can’t believe you’re upset about this. I thought you’d ask me to take one, but you never did, so I figured I’d just … handle it.”

“If I’d wanted a paternity test, I would have asked you for one. So, are you sure you didn’t do this to reassure yourself?”

My spine snaps straight. “How long have you been waiting to ask me that?”

I’ve been waiting for him to ask me that.

I never expected Kit not to question me about paternity. A leading you’re sure … when I said it was his. Or a question at a doctor’s appointment, clarifying the conception date.

We hadn’t seen each other for two years before that night. He knew I’d recently gotten out of a relationship with someone else. And he’s rich, with obvious assets to protect.

Not asking is careless, and Kit is smart.

“How long? Since you handed me this.” He nudges the offending envelope with the tip of a pen.

“If I needed reassurance , I would have opened the results before I gave them to you.”

I stand, still clutching my letter of resignation. I’ll have to give this to him tomorrow. I don’t have the time or the energy to handle another argument right now. Everyone else must be down in the lobby already, and tonight’s supposed to be a celebration.

“And you’re the billionaire who’s slept with half the women in this city and every sorority girl at Yale.

For all I know, this has happened to you before.

Stop acting like I’m being unreasonable.

This situation is complicated, and I’m trying to make it a little more straightforward.

Don’t pretend you don’t know how the world— your world—works.

A paternity test is the first thing your family’s team of lawyers is going to ask for, and that’s not my fault. ”

I stride out of his office as fast as I can without jogging, blinking away the tears before they have a chance to fall.