Page 206 of Boss of the Year

“We should keep walking,” I said. “The market will be crowded soon.”

Lucas would have to react at his own pace, just like I had at mine with his sudden appearance last night.

He nodded mechanically, falling into step beside me as we made our way up the hill and into the heart of the village. Withevery step, however, I could feel the weight of his gaze and hear the gears turning in his mind.

I focused on the path. Taking one step at a time, just like I had been doing for months. This was the same route I walked every market day, past the ancient stone walls draped with winter ivy and the weathered wooden shutters painted in faded blues and greens. Now, though, it felt like I was walking through a dream.

Or maybe a nightmare. I couldn’t tell yet.

I love you, I’d told him.

He’d said love didn’t cover it.

Would it be enough now?

We had just approached the main part of the village, where the road gave way to cobbled streets, when he finally spoke.

“Who…” His voice was hoarse, like he’d been yelling for hours, not a few moments. “The baby. Is it his?”

I frowned, genuinely confused. “Whose?”

“That…the musician? The one from last night.” He swallowed hard, as if, like bad-tasting medicine, it was physically painful for him to consider the option, but he knew he had to. “Jacques, I think his name was.”

Immediately, I stopped, grabbed Lucas’s hand, and pulled him to face me. The contact sent a familiar jolt of electricity up my arm; the same sensation I’d had the first time he touched me in the conservatory.

A mere few months ago.

It felt like years.

“Lucas,” I said slowly. Carefully. “I am not having Jacque’s baby.”

“Then…who?”

The look on his face wasn’t anger or accusation. It was bewilderment. Maybe even acceptance, like he’d finally realizedhe’d lost his chance with me and was trying to process how to live with that reality.

After the way he’d called my name like a prayer and practically begged for the future that maybe, justmaybe,we could share together, I couldn’t bear that look on his face again. I couldn’t let him think for another second that this child—our child—belonged to anyone else.

I tugged him closer, then placed his hand on my abdomen, where the slightest curve could be felt beneath the fine wool of my skirt.

“Lucas,” I started again. “I am fourteen weeks pregnant. Which means I got pregnant three weeks before my birthday. And the same day we were together in London.”

I watched as realization dawned across his strong features, saw the exact moment when understanding landed. His free hand rose to grab at his already disheveled hair, and the hand on my stomach trembled.

“I—we—your first time?” he finally stammered.

I smiled, filled with unexpected peace. Odd, how things had changed between us. Once I had been the one on the brink of the unknown, terrified of the future, while Lucas was so patient, so willing to guide me through its promise. Now I was the one who stood firmly in that future, reaching out to him to join me in it.

I shrugged, trying to be casual, even though my heart was practically beating out of my chest. “They say that’s all it takes.”

“But…we used protection. Christ, I was so careful with you, and?—”

“And it doesn’t always work,” I said, my voice somehow steadier than I felt. Was I scared? Yes. But I was used to the feeling by now. I’d had a few months to acclimate to it.

To accept the circumstances.

Even love them.

The question was whether Lucas would feel the same, now that he knew.