Page 131 of Modern Romance September 2025 5-8

Looking down, she saw that the blackberries she had been carrying had been crushed. All save a few.

She reached down for a survivor.

‘They are ruined,’ he said, and then he was on his knees, catching her wrist.

Her heart thundered, but she made herself look up into the face. It was too close to hers.

‘Like us?’ she accused. ‘You…that night…you ruined it.’

‘I did,’ he admitted, swiping his thumb against the delicate skin on the inside of her wrist. And it zinged.

‘Do you think of that night?’ She swallowed. ‘Do you think of me?’

She watched the heavy drag of his Adam’s apple.

She didn’t know why she needed to know. But she did.

She wouldn’t let herself regret the question. He was here when she thought she’d never see his face again. Never lay eyes on the defined structure of his noble nose, his sculpted cheekbones, sharpened by the lines of his chestnut beard.

Her stomach somersaulted. Her body was taut with too many conflicting emotions.

‘I think about that night,’ she admitted, filling the too heavy silence. ‘I think about you all the time, and…’

‘And what?’

Heat bloomed in all the places it shouldn’t.

‘If you could change it?’ Her skin hummed too loudly beneath his gentle, but firm, hold. ‘If you could change the wayyouended us, would you?’

Something flashed in his eyes. And she recognised it. It was need. Want.

She’d imagined all the ways their night could have ended, and she’d longed for every one of those alternative endings. To be taken in his arms. Taken to his bed, where they would have explored each other. She’d craved it. A different end, as she’d lain on her bed feeling rejected. Broken.

‘No.’ His fingers tightened around her wrist, pinching deeply. ‘I wouldn’t change it.’

She stood, none too elegantly. ‘Why not?’ she asked, unable to mask the hurt and vulnerability in her voice.

‘There are no redos in life,’ he said, and stood tall in one fluid motion. Swallowed the space that surrounded them until there was only him. ‘I am not here for a repeat performance. I am here because of the child,’ he declared.

Heat flushed her cheeks and spread down her throat. What was wrong with her? Why did she still want a man who obviously did not want her?

Was it pregnancy hormones? Pheromones? Or was it something more basic? Something more primal that flooded her body with a need to be closer to him because the baby inside her was his?

She didn’t know the reason, and she didn’t want to know.

‘The child,’ she hissed, ‘is growing inside me.’ She curled her fingers into her palms until her nails pierced into flesh. ‘We are a goddamn package!’

His eyes blazed. ‘Thenyouand the baby will come with me. Now.’

The possessive demand made her toes curl. She ignored her traitorous feet.

‘No,’ she refused. ‘We won’t.’

‘It is no longer a choice.’

‘Who do you think you are?’ she spat. ‘Coming into my home and demanding things from me? I don’t even know your name.’

She took in his chin, squared and sculpted with determination.