Page 10 of Reluctantly Ever After (The Oops Baby Club #2)

"People saw us leave together. That's all anyone knows for sure." I hesitate, then add, "Well, and that we've been avoiding each other since."

"Fantastic," she mutters. There’s no way she hasn’t heard the same things from her contacts, so I don’t get why she’s acting surprised.

"Look, no one knows about the marriage. Or..." I gesture vaguely toward her stomach, not sure if I’m ready to say the word 'pregnancy' again just yet.

"And I'd like to keep it that way." She paces to the window, staring out at the brewing tanks visible through the glass. "This is such a mess."

"It doesn't have to be," I say, the words forming before I've fully thought them through.

She turns back to me, eyebrow raised. "How do you figure that?"

I take a deep breath, mentally preparing for the reaction I'm about to get. "What if we didn't get divorced?"

"Excuse me?" Her voice rises to that pitch only dogs can hear at the end.

"Hear me out." I hold up my hands, knowing I'm about to take a walk straight through a minefield. "We're already legally married. You're pregnant with my child. Maybe... maybe this doesn't have to be a disaster."

Wren stares at me like I've just suggested she tattoo my name across her forehead. "You can't be serious."

"I am." The certainty in my voice surprises even me.

My hand slips into my pocket, and my fingers play with the wedding band I've been carrying around since Vegas.

I haven't worn it, but I couldn't bring myself to toss it in a drawer either.

I rub my thumb over the smooth metal, a habit I've developed these past weeks without really understanding why.

"A kid needs both parents. And I don’t want to miss out on anything. "

"We can co-parent without being married," she says. "Plenty of people do."

"I watched my dad bail on us when we needed him most. I promised myself I'd never do that to my own kid. I want to be there. Every day."

"For the baby," she repeats flatly. "The baby that may or may not exist depending on what I decide."

I wince at the reminder that she might not keep my baby. Honestly, the thought makes me fucking sick, but it’s not up to me.

And I don’t bother telling her it’s not just for the baby. That I think I want her just as much. Maybe more. There’s a reason I haven’t finished filling out that paperwork. "That's your choice. I meant what I said."

She starts pacing, those sharp as hell heels she always wears stabbing into the concrete. Each step looks like it could kill a man, which is probably why she wears them. "This is insane. You don't even like me. I don't like you. You've been trying to undermine my company since day one."

"That's not true," I argue. "I respect what you've built. I just don't agree with your methods."

"Oh, please." She rolls her eyes. "You literally tried to convince the airport to cut out distributors entirely and deal directly with local breweries."

"That's just business."

"Exactly!" She throws up her hands. "This is business, Kasen. Not some fairy tale where enemies suddenly fall in love because of an accidental pregnancy."

"I'm not talking about love," I say carefully. "I'm talking about responsibility. Partnership. Doing the right thing."

"The right thing," she repeats with a sharp laugh. "Says who? The same outdated thinking that expects women to give up their careers the minute they get knocked up?”

"I'm not trying to control you or your career," I say, keeping my voice even despite the frustration building. "You're acting like I'm asking you to become a housewife. I'm just saying we're already married, and there's a baby in the mix. Maybe we should at least try to make something work."

Wren stops pacing, something shifting in her expression. "You honestly believe we could make this work? Us? The same people who've been at each other's throats for years?"

"I don't know," I admit. "But I think we owe it to ourselves—and maybe to this kid—to find out."

She studies me, arms still crossed. "And what exactly are you proposing here? Because I'm not giving up my company or my apartment."

"I wouldn't ask you to." I lean back against the table, trying to look more relaxed than I feel. "I just think we should get to know each other. Outside of business. See if there's... I don't know, something worth building on."

"Something besides volatile chemistry and a mutual love of craft beer," she says dryly. “That I can no longer drink thanks to you and your super sperm.”

I can't help the half-smile that tugs at my mouth. "Yeah. Besides that."

She's quiet for a moment, and I can almost see the wheels turning in her head. I’ve found Wren always approaches everything like a business problem to solve, weighing options, calculating risks.

"Which way are you leaning?" I ask quietly. "About the baby?"

The question hangs between us, and I hold my breath while she takes her sweet time thinking about what she wants to say. Wren's hand moves to her stomach, then drops back to her side when she notices what she's doing.

"I'm leaning toward keeping it," she admits, her voice barely above a whisper. "But I haven't decided for sure."

The relief that pulses through me is so intense I have to grip the edge of the table to steady myself. "Okay."

She nods, then squares her shoulders. "If—and that's a big if—I decide to keep this baby, what would your involvement look like?"

"Whatever you're comfortable with," I say. "But ideally? I'd want to be there for everything. Doctor's appointments, setting up a nursery, late-night feedings. All of it."

"And our businesses? We'd keep those separate?"

"Completely. What happens at Timber stays at Timber. What happens at Cascade stays at Cascade."

She narrows her eyes. "So if I landed another account you were after..."

"I'd be pissed, but I wouldn't bring it home." I meet her gaze steadily. "This would be about us, not business."

Easier said than done, but I’d try. For her.

For them.

"There is no 'us,'" she says.

"Not yet," I agree. "But maybe there could be."

Wren turns away again, her fingers fidgeting with the strap of her purse. "This is insane," she mutters, but I can tell she's considering it.

"Look," I say, taking a chance. "Before we make any major decisions, let's just... spend some time together. Get coffee. Have dinner. Talk about something besides Cascade versus Timber for once."

She glances back at me, one eyebrow raised. "You want to date?"

"I want to get to know the woman who might be raising my kid," I say, then add, "And yeah, maybe I want to know if there's more to us than what happened in Vegas."

Her cheeks flush at the mention of Vegas, and not gonna lie, it’s cute as hell. "And if it turns out we still can't stand each other?"

"Then at least we tried. We'll figure out co-parenting if it comes to that." I hesitate, then ask the question that's been burning in my mind. "Do you really hate me that much?"

"I don't hate you," she admits. "You frustrate the hell out of me professionally. But I don't hate you."

It's not a declaration of affection, but it's a start.

"So, what do you say?" I ask. "Give this a shot?"

She takes a deep breath. "We can try getting to know each other," she says finally. "No promises beyond that. And I'll let you know when I've made a final decision about the baby."

Relief floods through me. "Thank you."

"Don't thank me yet," she warns. "I could still change my mind. About all of it."

I nod. "I know."

Wren adjusts her purse strap. “I should go. I have an early meeting tomorrow."

"Can I call you? Maybe we could get dinner this weekend?"

She hesitates, then nods. "Don’t call, though. What are you, a psychopath?” She wrinkles her nose. “Text me like a normal human being. We'll figure something out."

My lips twitch. "Will do."

She turns toward the door, then pauses. "Kasen?"

"Yeah?"

"Breathe a word about this baby to anyone, and I'll rewire your truck so the horn plays 'It's Raining Men' at full volume every time you hit the brakes." Her tone is light, but her eyes are dead serious.

And she has the audacity to call me the psychopath.

I can't help but laugh. "Noted."

With a final glance, she's gone.

I sink into the booth, the full weight of what just happened crashing down on me. Wren’s pregnant. With my baby. And she's agreed to try to see if there might be something between us.

Considering I haven’t been able to get her out of my head for months, I’m gonna go ahead and guess there is.

Her agreement isn’t the commitment I was hoping for, but it's more than I have any right to expect. And she's leaning toward keeping the baby.

My baby.

I reach for my phone and pull up Reed's contact, typing quickly before I can second-guess myself.

Me: Need to talk.

His response comes almost immediately.

Reed: Sure. Everything okay?

I stare at the screen, the realization suddenly hitting me. Reed. Dr. Reed Walker. The guy who examined Wren, who knew about my baby before I did. Who had her put her feet in those stirrups and checked out parts of her I've only seen in a very different context.

Something hot and uncomfortable twists in my gut. I know it's his job, completely professional, but still. Banks mentioned feeling weirdly territorial when Reed became Clover's doctor during her pregnancy with Noble. I thought he was being an idiot at the time, but now I get it.

And Reed has no idea that I'm the father of Wren's baby. No idea that the woman he examined is technically my wife.

Me: I either need a beer or therapy after today. You're cheaper, so beer?

After he agrees, I set the phone down and turn back to my half-finished label. The design that had seemed so important a few hours ago now feels trivial compared to the seismic shift that just rocked my world.

A baby. A chance to know Wren beyond the girl I can’t stand. A chance to be the father mine never was.

I've always believed actions speak louder than words.

Now it's time to prove it.