Page 35 of My Horrible Arranged Marriage (Bancroft Billionaire Brothers #20)

MINA

D inner at the Duvall estate was usually a formal, slightly stilted affair.

But not tonight. I felt different. I didn’t feel like I was being forced to have a stuffy dinner with my dad.

There was laughter now. Teasing. The occasional sarcastic remark that once might have earned a warning glance from my father now made him chuckle into his wine glass.

If I didn’t know any better, I would think my dad actually liked Isaac.

Tori had joined us, as she often did now that she was practically part of the family. She reached for the breadbasket and grinned at Isaac, who was sitting across from her.

“You’re lucky to be marrying her,” she told him in a tone that could have been either serious or a dare. “She’s a total menace, but she’s our menace. She is going to keep you on your toes. Just when you think you’ve got it all figured out, she’s going to change things up.”

Isaac raised his wine glass, his lips quirking up. “Oh, I know. I’m under no illusions. I happen to be looking forward to the chaos.”

Tori snorted. I groaned.

My father chuckled. Actually chuckled. And it wasn’t the tight, polite chuckle he used in boardrooms or during charity galas. It was warm and deep and real.

“Be careful what you wish for,” Dad said. “She’ll have you dancing on your toes until you can’t stand up.”

“Very funny,” I said. “Everyone gang up on the poor injured girl.”

“You’re not poor.” Tori snorted.

“And you’ve healed just fine,” Dad added.

I looked over at him. His tie was looser than usual, his posture more relaxed. He looked happy.

It hit me then, like a warm flush across my chest. He hadn’t looked like this in years. Not since before my mom died.

She passed away when I was nineteen. One moment she was running errands and the next she was gone. My world had gone grayscale, and my father had retreated into work. He had become very serious and withdrawn.

But now, here he was, sipping wine and making jokes with Isaac and Tori. He’d never been like this with Sampson. He never laughed or welcomed him to the table. Not like this anyway.

I put my hand on the table and glanced down at my ring. The lights above the table made it sparkle like a prism, little rainbows dancing across the polished surface of the wood.

I still couldn’t believe it sometimes. I was engaged.

And not just engaged—engaged to a man who made me feel seen, safe, and yes, a little crazy in the best possible way.

Isaac Bancroft was unexpected. I never would have imagined he was the man for me.

I didn’t even know I was looking for him.

He was handsome and that probably would have drawn my attention to him, but it was more than his looks.

I believed we were kindred spirits. We had somehow managed to find each other in this crazy world.

And our relationship could only be described as a whirlwind. It was the most amazing complication I never saw coming. And yet, here we were, wrapped up in something that felt so right it scared me.

Under the table, my free hand drifted to my abdomen.

There was something else I hadn’t told him yet. Something big. Life-changing. I wanted to tell him. I just couldn’t see how I did that without exploding this beautiful thing happening between us. Not because I didn’t trust him. I did. With my heart, with my body, with my future.

But this was next level. A baby? So soon?

The wedding was in four weeks. Four. Weeks. I could barely wrap my head around that, let alone the idea of bringing a baby into the mix in eight months. Would he be thrilled? Would he panic? Would he think I’d been hiding it on purpose?

I swallowed, my appetite fading a little.

“Everything okay?” Isaac asked quietly.

I blinked and realized I’d been zoning out. “Yeah. Just thinking.”

“Cake flavors? Tablecloths?”

I stuck my tongue out at him, grateful for the banter, grateful for him. “Very funny, but actually I was thinking about songs.”

“Songs?” he asked.

“We have to pick the song for our first dance, the song we’ll have at the ceremony and the father-daughter song. I assume you’ll want to dance with Kathy for the mother and son song. We need to nail all of that down.”

He was staring at me with a deer in the headlights look. Poor man. He took a drink from his wine glass and slowly put it down.

“Songs,” he repeated.

“Yes, we can go with the classic ‘Butterfly Kisses’ for the father-daughter dance, but we don’t have a song,” I said.

“What was that fun little number that played a few times at the summer party?” Dad said. “Yo ho or something.”

He was teasing. It was his way of reminding us of our little prank. “Not quite romantic,” I said.

I couldn’t help but grin when Tori got that look in her eyes.

She was up to no good and I knew Isaac was in for it.

“Oh, I’ve got the perfect song for your first dance,” she said, pointing her fork at Isaac like it was a weapon.

“How about ‘Baby Shark’? It’s catchy, it’s fun, and it’s got a great beat for twirling. ”

Isaac froze mid-bite of his steak, his fork hovering in the air as he stared at her like she’d just suggested they get married in clown costumes. “You’re joking,” he said flatly.

“Am I?” Tori countered, her grin widening. “Think about it. You could choreograph a whole dance routine. Mina could be the mommy shark, you could be the daddy shark, and your nieces and nephews could join in as the baby sharks.”

I didn’t know if she was testing the baby waters or what, but she was hitting just a little too close to home.

“Tori, stop. You’re going to give him a heart attack.”

Isaac set his fork down slowly, his expression a mix of horror and disbelief. “First of all, no. Second of all, absolutely not. And third of all—no.”

Tori shrugged, feigning innocence. “I suppose you could do some lame Celine Dion or some bluesy thing. Totally not memorable. Aren’t you two all about breaking the mold?”

“No,” Isaac and I answered at the same time.

The rest of dinner was spent talking about wedding stuff, which I could tell was taxing for Isaac. The poor guy had spent the last couple of days acting like a wedding planner. It was cute and endearing, but I knew he needed a break.

After dinner, we returned to my suite. I was still recovering, technically, but I was feeling more like myself every day.

Isaac made sure I took it easy—he’d become quite the attentive nurse-slash-bodyguard-slash-overbearing husband-in-training.

We sat on the couch in my sitting area. My legs were stretched across his lap with about twenty-two pillows supporting my back thanks to him.

He was absently rubbing my feet. Something he started doing when I got home from the hospital.

It wasn’t like a foot massage. It was more of a demonstration of love and affection.

“You did good,” I said.

“What?”

“You spent your day knee-deep in cardstock and linen swatches and then you sat through dinner with my dad. You did good.”

“Does that mean I get a treat now?” He waggled his eyebrows and trailed a finger up my shin. “Maybe a pat on the head.”

“If you’re looking for something else, doctor says I have to wait a couple more days,” I teased. “But I could totally give you a pat on the head.”

I looked up at him. He looked good tonight. So naturally him. No Gucci shoes or Ralph Lauren suit. No slicked back hair or Rolex. He wasn’t staring at his phone like he was counting down the minutes until he could bail out. He was here with me looking like the boy next door. My heart swelled.

He had a look on his face I hadn’t seen before. Panic threatened to set in. “Isaac? Is everything okay?”

He looked at me and smiled, his hand moving to rest on my knee. “Do you ever think about the future? Like, five, ten years from now?”

My breath caught.

“All the time,” I said carefully.

“Yeah?” He gave me a sidelong glance. “Where do you see us?”

I smiled. “Still in New York, I think. You’ll be working with your brothers at the firm, being all philanthropist-like and hot.”

“Yeah? You like that?”

“I do.” I nodded.

“And I’ll maybe have my own swimwear line.”

He blinked. “Swimwear?”

“I never told you?” I asked, surprised.

“No…”

I smiled, then looked out at the trees. “My mom taught me how to sew. She used to make me the coolest outfits when I was a kid—wild prints, lots of color. She never turned it into a business because she said monetizing her joy would steal it. But I’ve always wanted to try.

I think I could do it. It’s been a long time since I’ve busted out my sewing machine, but I do like to sketch outfits.

I used to do it a lot more often but… life. Things changed.”

Sampson changed me.

“I think that would be awesome,” he said. “I had no idea you could sew.”

I shrugged. “I haven’t in a while. But I’ve been sketching some stuff lately. Tori says it’s good.”

“She’s brutally honest, so if she says it’s good…”

“Exactly.”

He was quiet for a moment, then smiled. “Maybe one day you’ll be sewing adorable little onesies.”

I stopped walking. My heart slammed against my ribs.

He glanced back, brow raised. “What?”

“Nothing,” I said too quickly.

“Mina…”

“Maybe,” I said, forcing a smile. “One day.”

Just tell him!

I couldn’t get the words out. Why? Why couldn’t I just tell this man he was going to be a father this time next year?

“So, you want to stay in the city?” he asked.

“What?”

“You said you wanted to stay in New York,” he reminded me. “When you were hopped on pain meds you were talking about backyard swings and patios.”

“I did?”

Had I said anything else?

“I would like a little property.” I shrugged. “With a backyard and a swing.”

“Something like this place?” he asked quietly.

“It was nice growing up here,” I said softly. “I’d like to raise a family in a place like this.”

He leaned over and kissed my nose. “When we start the family phase, we’ll start looking for our own estate.”

I forced a smile. “Sounds good.”