Page 56 of Anti-Hero (Kensingtons: The Next Generation #2)

I count the binders one final time, releasing a relieved exhale when I confirm they’re all accounted for.

Printing the exhibits for the deposition, sorting them, and then organizing them in these binders took me most of last week.

If one magically went missing, I’d no longer have time to procure a replacement.

I place a binder at each attorney’s spot, then stack the extra legal pads and pens at the end of the table so those are available if necessary.

Everything’s arranged and accounted for; plus, I’m running ten minutes ahead of schedule.

I release a relieved exhale, turn toward the conference room door, and freeze.

Isaac appears equally stunned to see me, abolishing any possibility that he intentionally tracked me down. He’s wearing a wool coat, his face ruddy from cold, like he just walked in off the street.

We stare at each other. His hair is shorter, and he has a trimmed beard.

“Hi, Collins.” He speaks first, adjusting his already-straight tie as he does.

“Hello, Isaac.”

More staring.

I’m surprised to see him, but it’s a dulled shock. The energy necessary to sustain it is already dissipating. I don’t care that he’s here. And I don’t care that I don’t care.

“You-you work here?” He glances around the empty conference room.

“Yes.”

Isaac expected me to elaborate more. Watching him flounder for something else to say is entertaining.

“I’m here for the Handler deposition,” he finally states.

I nod.

I didn’t pay close attention to the name of the firm representing the defendant.

But even if I had recognized Isaac’s employer, I’m not sure it would have occurred to me he was one of the lawyers they were sending, even knowing he’s working in New York now.

His firm is as large as Bradford, Nash, & Monroe is.

The chances of us crossing paths were minuscule.

It’s strange, seeing him. At all, but especially in New York. This city has changed me. I’m a different person than I was when I left Chicago. Stronger maybe, but not in the obvious ways. I’m more secure in myself, confident in my choices. I don’t worry about picking right.

“I was looking for the restroom, walked past, and saw you in here,” he explains. “I wasn’t, uh … wasn’t expecting to see you.” Isaac yanks his tie again. He’s nervous and uncomfortable, and I’m unbothered. “I’m sorry, Collins. You never really gave me a chance to say that?—”

I snort, letting a little snark slip out. “Well, you were busy getting dressed in my boss’s office. It didn’t seem like the right time for a lengthy explanation.”

Isaac scratches his beard. “Right. Yeah. I am sorry though.”

“I’ve got work to do.” I start toward the doorway he’s blocking, not realizing one of the chairs was concealing my bump until Isaac’s eyes fall and widen.

I’m wearing one of the cute maternity dresses Scarlett and Lili bought me, which highlights my new curves rather than hides them.

“Wow. I—wow. You moved on fast.”

The words are offensive. But his tone is defeated. A flat tire in vocal form.

“You made it easy.”

Even if he hadn’t cheated, I don’t think it would have been hard. I liked Isaac, but I never loved him. I know that for sure now, having experienced the real thing.

Isaac sighs. “I know.”

I wait, but he doesn’t move.

“You’re blocking the doorway,” I state.

“Oh. Right. Sorry.” He steps to the left, clearing the exit. “For whatever it’s worth, I regret it, Collins. I really, really regret it.”

I glance at him, ensuring he sees my sincerity. “I don’t.”

Then walk away.

I’m midway through a sonata when I hear the front door open and close.

My heart leaps as my hands stay steady. My fingers keep finding the right keys, but I press the pedal a second too late.

Then I hear his steps approaching the living room and rush through the final lines on the page so I can turn around and see him.

His suit jacket is tossed on the back of the couch, and he’s rolling up the sleeves of his button-down.

“Hey,” I say, my voice high and embarrassingly breathless. “You’re home.”

“I’m home,” he confirms, finishing one sleeve and starting on the other. “Top or bottom?”

“Top,” I decide. “I was bottom last night.”

“’Kay.” He presses a kiss to the top of my head, then leans over me to reach the keys. He cycles through the opening chords of “Heart and Soul” twice before I chime in with the accompaniment in the higher octave.

Our rendition lasts a few minutes longer than it did during yesterday’s session.

When Kit asked me to teach him a song on the piano, I thought we’d attempt a couple of lessons, and he’d eventually lose interest. But it’s our routine now.

As soon as he comes home, we play something together. My favorite part of the day now.

“Way to carry the team,” he tells me, setting an elbow on the stand and covering a yawn with his hand.

“You didn’t mess up a single note,” I reply as I lean closer, resting my head against his shoulder. “You’re home late.”

“I know, sorry. I was going over reports and lost track of time.”

“It’s fine. I just missed you.”

“I missed you too. April hasn’t figured out the right sorting system for my reports yet. ”

I roll my eyes. “How sad for you.”

He chuckles, tucking a piece of hair behind my ear. “How did the deposition go?”

I tense a little. “It was, uh, fine.”

“Fine? That’s it? You’ve been talking about those binders for the past two weeks.”

“The binders were perfect. It was—Isaac was there.”

“Isaac? Your ex , Isaac?”

“Yeah. He was one of the attorneys on the other side. I ran into him in the conference room beforehand.”

“He came all the way to New York for a deposition?” Kit asks.

“No. He lives here now. He transferred offices from his firm’s Chicago location to New York back in the fall.”

“You guys really caught up, huh?” Kit’s tone is careful, measured, and I can’t tell what he’s thinking at all.

I straighten so I can see his expression. Also controlled. “Actually, I knew about the transfer already. His friend’s girlfriend texted me months ago about it.”

“Months ago?”

I nod. “Halloween.”

He hesitates before asking, “Is that why you were really upset that night?”

“No. I— no . Maybe I should have mentioned it, but that’s not why I was upset. I wasn’t thrilled, knowing he was moving here, but I figured the chances of us ever running into each other were … slim.”

Kit rubs a thumb along his jaw. “Not that slim, apparently.”

“I’m only telling you because you asked about my day and he was part of my day. No other reason.”

“What did you guys talk about? ”

“Not much. He wasn’t expecting to see me either. He apologized. Said he regretted how things ended.”

Kit scoffs.

“I told him I didn’t because I don’t. I don’t think we would’ve worked out in the long term, even if he hadn’t cheated. But I’m not sure I would have moved to New York if he hadn’t cheated—at least not when I did, and I’m really glad I moved to New York when I did.”

“You mean that?”

I stare at Kit, taken aback by the uncharacteristic uncertainty in his voice. “Yes. Of course I do.”

“You wouldn’t change anything , even if you could?” he presses.

“Well, I’d probably change how I acted on New Year’s Eve. And tell you about the paternity test differently and also the?—”

“I meant the big stuff, Collins. Moving here. Changing jobs. The pregnancy. It’s just me. You can be honest. Be honest.”

“I wouldn’t change any of it, Kit,” I tell him sincerely.

“I chose to stay pregnant, and I’ve never regretted it.

I love living here, with you, and I’m especially fond of your piano and shower.

I feel good about work, and if that changes, I’ll figure something else out.

And I’m so sorry if I’ve made you feel like?—”

Kit presses a finger to my lips, cutting me off.

“Don’t apologize. You haven’t. But we were talking about your life in Chicago, and I was thinking about what you said at that dinner, about all the ways my life was going to change if I was involved.

” He exhales. “Yours has— will —too, and I want to make sure you … I just … I want to give you things, Monty. Not take options away. Not have you stuck, making the best out of a situation you didn’t want. ”

“I want it,” I assure him. “I want all of it.” I reach for his hand, threading our fingers together. “You’ve given me everything I could ever want.”

He squeezes my hand.

“How was your day?” I ask.

Kit groans. “Well … it turns out, Beauté was some sort of test. That’s why I’m home so late. I went over all their files again to see if I’d missed anything.”

I frown. “A test? What does that mean?”

“That my dad has a twisted sense of humor. Apparently, my grandfather did the same thing to Oliver. Float a questionable company, then leave it to him to decide whether to make a deal or not.”

“What did Oliver do?”

“He made the deal.”

“And was that the right call?”

Kit hesitates before responding, “It wasn’t the wrong call. But I think he’d pick differently now if he could.”

“Do you know what you’re going to do?”

“Not yet. Levi set up a meeting with Beauté for next week. I’ll see how that goes before making a final call.”

I nod. A second later, my stomach growls.

“You haven’t eaten yet?”

“I was waiting for you,” I admit.

“Come on.” He stands, steadying me as I move as gracefully as I can maneuver at seven months pregnant.

Even once we’re walking toward the kitchen, he doesn’t drop my hand.