Page 48 of Tender Offer (Chance at Love #3)

Madison

I laughed. A deep belly howl clogged the office silence and commanded space. I couldn’t stop my laughter or its tears at Bellamy’s desperate attempt to hook Preston.

I’m not ashamed to admit I peed a little, because how are those two words not funny?

I’m pregnant .

I thought Maury Povich would waltz out to say, “You are not the father!” A pregnancy reveal the day before UK Mother’s Day is nasty work, but I give Bellamy credit. I would never fake one.

The laughter burning my lungs mutated into a knot in my throat when I saw Preston’s pained expression.

I stopped laughing immediately.

Bellamy is pregnant with his baby.

My stomach lurches in demand of another dry heave into the toilet. I’m very much without child, but I get sick thinking about the bond Preston and Bellamy will share. One that prompted him to use condoms with me so as not to further complicate a complicated situation.

A baby.

Baby .

We’ve only made love twice in the two weeks since Bellamy waltzed into his office. Every attempt is an awkward placement of limbs with no eye contact. Our intimacy is gone, and I don’t know how to get it back.

I reach for toilet paper, wipe the saliva from my mouth, and stand.

All it took was a few days in Paris. A detour from Preston and Bellamy’s casual arrangement.

The fact that a child is the byproduct of his desire for her makes me question if the feelings he held for his longtime friend were nonexistent when he started pursuing me.

It was easy for Terrence to fade to black.

We only see each other in passing, and we certainly weren’t fucking.

Preston swears he hasn’t thought about Bellamy sexually since I came back into his life.

Sleeping with a close friend isn’t a practice of mine.

I don’t know what is and isn’t possible when it comes to matters of the heart.

It raised questions that had me looking at him differently.

Does his mind focus on business when he’s with her, or the memories of their pleasure?

Will her changing body excite new curiosities as she carries their child in her womb?

Will his undying love for his heir shift his feelings for the mother of his child—a lifelong friend he’s known longer than me?

What I do know is Bellamy is now seventeen weeks. She wasn’t showing the day of her reveal, but now she has a fuller, rounder stomach. One she rubs every chance she gets.

She confirmed her pregnancy at around eleven weeks, when Preston worked long days and nights by her side in Paris. It turns out her leave was to process the pregnancy, as well as Preston and I together.

Cold water pierces my skin, an attempt to wake me up from this nightmare.

Flashbacks of Preston passing off a candlelit dinner as a styling consultation pull me through a forest of suits surrounded in musk in the walk-in closet.

The bistro table and chairs are now anchored to a past that no longer aligns with our future.

That I moved into Preston’s penthouse last month is another change.

It was pointless to stay down the hall in mine.

If he wasn’t in my bed, I was in his. He joked how living together was a sign I’d accept his tender offer, and he pulled out all the stops to get me to agree.

Homemade dinners he cooked in nothing but an apron.

Endless foot massages. Waking up to his head between my legs.

Now he walks on eggshells, terrified I’ll leave and too guilt-ridden to face me. What time we do spend together is not the same.

I clamp my lips to hold in a sob as I stare at the section of his closet that’s just for me. I’m trying my best to be okay. I tell myself tomorrow will hurt less, that I can be supportive and not feel like my world is being ripped apart.

Preston having a child on the way is no different than if his baby was already in his life. It happened before we got together. That doesn’t erase the lingering feelings, the waiting for the chance to ask what if.

What if he wants to give a relationship with Bellamy a try for the sake of the baby?

What if decades of friendship blossom into the love he’s been waiting for?

A loose cream turtleneck sweater flies off the hanger at my tug. I toss on ripped jeans and grab a pair of oxfords.

I need to get out of here.

Raindrops splatter the pavement under gray skies. The sun has yet to peek out, not that it would brighten my day.

The blisters streaked across my feet from hours of walking have numbed to a dull ache. There is no destination in mind, only distance from the home I haven’t left in weeks.

A gust of wind flips my umbrella inside out. I take cover under an awning and bend the panel back into its proper form. My hair is a different story. Persistent rain coiled the edges into a mane of frizz. It’s tied up in a messy bun, emphasis on the mess.

Joyful laughter shifts my attention from the umbrella that’s about to meet the fate of a trash can to Bellamy.

Her grin tints her rose-colored cheeks and crinkles the eyes she lifts to Preston, who’s staring down at her with a faint smile that slowly becomes more pronounced.

They linger for a moment on the edge of the sidewalk.

Her hand is on his, holding the bump of their baby.

I never expected Preston to despise his child—who would want a man who does?—but witnessing his happiness up close while I live with his agony at home twists the knife deeper into my heart. I haven’t seen him smile in weeks, but here he is, offering it freely to a woman he claims he doesn’t love.

Sensing eyes on him, he looks up. The smile drops into a frown. He says something to Bellamy, who nods and takes their umbrella. There’s no gloat or smirk. If anything, she looks remorseful.

“Puff.”

“Hey,” I say, tipping my umbrella back to accommodate our height difference. “I was just out.”

His brow lifts. “In the rain?”

“When is it not raining here?” My attempt at a smile is too much to bear.

“I tried calling earlier. KD had a doctor’s appointment. It was my first time seeing the baby.” Sadness tugs at his words, and he clears his throat. “It’s a girl.”

My chest squeezes under an invisible weight. I draw in a deep breath but can’t steady myself to ignore the ache that’s eating me alive. I gulp and pray that the tears lining my vision don’t fall.

I don’t want to break in front of her.

“I-I’m sorry,” I stammer.

The reality of what their baby means hurtles through my rib cage. Them shopping for the nursery. Preston holding Bellamy’s hand and kissing her forehead during birth. Celebrating milestones together as a family.

Preston reaches for me, enveloping me inside the warmth of his jacket. He kisses my forehead and tightens his grip. “Please don’t cry, Puff.” His voice is a low rumble. “I love you so much, and I’m sorry—for all of this. I want to be a good father, but I don’t want to lose you.”

“I know. But watching you two together makes me feel like the mistress.”

He pulls away to hold me in a stare. “You’re the woman I love. I want a future together.”

I press a kiss to his lips and step away. “It hurts too much to think about what that looks like. There’s a lot for you to focus on right now.” I raise a hand and take another step back when he moves forward. “Please.”

His jaw clenches, but he nods.

“You should get her out of the rain.” I nod at Bellamy. She’s shifting from foot to foot, looking between us. “Her health is important.”

“Madison,” he says.

“I’ll be fine. I have to go.”

If my oxford shoes do one good thing today, it’s turn me in the other direction and force me to walk away. Eyes narrow at me, the woman with no jacket and a fuzzy bun who’s crying like she just left a funeral. I reach into my clutch and pull out my phone. Tammi picks up on the third ring.

“Tam.”

“Maddie, what’s wrong? Did someone die!?”

“I—I don’t think I can do this anymore.” Pain explodes, shooting shrapnel through my heart and into my voice.

By some miracle, I make it back to the penthouse. My eyes are puffy and my nose is like a faucet, but I’m here. Tammi listens to the emotional monologue of my life.

“Come home, Maddie,” she says.

I nod like she can see me and stuff the clothes I brought from New York into my suitcase. “There’s a nonstop flight leaving in a few hours.” I give Tammi the information.

Once I’m packed, I roll my suitcases out of the bedroom and stop into Preston’s home office for a pen and paper.

A photo of us sits in a silver frame next to his desk.

He took a candid shot the morning after our first night together.

I’m grinning up at him from under the covers.

My hair is wild, matching his expression of untamed adoration.

Inside the desk drawer is a legal pad. I grab a pen but stop when I see the sonogram. It’s a copy, but it shows the baby’s profile. A tiny head, a little nose, and the outline of a mouth. The bundle of joy that will change his life forever.

Tears come in another wave, one that forces me to grip the desk.

“This is my karma,” I choke out through a low, tortured sob. “It’s what I get.”

My cries drown out Tammi calling my name until she screams it to get my attention.

“Enough of that,” she snaps. “You are a good person who made a shitty judgment call in the past. We’ve all been the villain in someone else’s story, but it’s up to us to change. You did, and you apologized. I won’t pretend this situation isn’t messy, but give yourself some grace.”

“She won’t let go,” I whisper to my phone. “I know Bellamy—I’ve been like her. She’ll latch onto him with this baby and make my life hell in the process.”

“So leave this Jerry Springer situation. You have a right to protect your heart and mental health while Preston figures things out. Staying cooped up in that penthouse with no support will make you sick. Come home.”

I write a note and reserve a car through a rideshare app. Dayo is in the hallway when I open the front door.

“I hope you don’t mind, but I followed you back to make sure you were okay.” The sad smile he offers wobbles my chin. “Allow me.” He reaches for my luggage.

“You’re not here to stop me?”

“He better not!” Tammi shouts through the phone.

“Damn, I’m not,” he chuckles, flashing perfect white teeth.

Tammi stays on the phone as I make my way down to the car. She hangs up once I confirm my ride has arrived and Dayo won’t kidnap me.

He holds the back door open but hesitates. “It’s not my business or my place to say, but Preston regrets hurting you. I hope you two can make it through this. He’s never been happier, and I assume you haven’t, either.”

I nod and offer a hug that he accepts. “Goodbye, Dayo.”

The car pulls off the curb and into the dreary day. I make it through customs and the eight-hour flight without crying.

When I reach New York, I break down at Tammi and Kojo waiting for me with dumplings and open arms.

“We got you,” Kojo says with a kiss to my cheek. The promise is similar to the one he made the first time we met. The night Preston broke my heart and never looked back.