Page 45 of Vegas Daddies (Forbidden Fantasies #17)

LUCA

T he lawyer’s office was much swankier than that of Jack Bloom, Private Investigator. Gavin had spared no expense, and I was grateful for it, even as sitting in the sleek office chair in a chrome and glass room felt like a harbinger of doom.

Well, that was dramatic. But I wasn’t looking forward to this very necessary, very easy process, because I still wasn’t sure that Allie would stick around once there were no more legal strings tying us to one another.

“Alright, you two,” the lawyer said, turning toward us from the computer monitor she’d just been staring down. “Ready to end this marriage of yours?”

Loaded question. For both of us, I was sure, since Allie didn’t jump to say yes either. Instead, we both nodded slowly, and the lawyer adjusted her sunny tone to something more somber.

“You’re good candidates for annulment, despite the big gap in time,” she explained, making a couple of clicks on her computer. “The alcohol element is a slam dunk. Shouldn’t be terribly hard to get you two set up.”

I sat there, half listening as she explained the process, how long it would take, what we could expect.

My eyes drifted to Allie. She was looking down at her lap, not making eye contact with me, which made something sharp twist in my gut.

I had this stupid hope she’d look over, maybe smile, maybe say this was all a little crazy and we should think about it longer.

But she didn’t, and I knew she wouldn’t, and I knew it was stupid to want that at all.

When the paperwork was printed and placed in front of us, I stared down at the pen like it might catch fire in my hand.

This was it. The end of whatever ridiculous Vegas mistake had tied us together—and the end of any tangible excuse I had to stay close to her.

Soon, Cade, Gavin, and I would head back to our regular lives. Everything would change.

“Everything look correct?” the lawyer asked.

I nodded, barely able to make my head move. It was a lie, since my eyes weren’t even focusing on the words on the page.

“Then go ahead and sign where indicated.”

I picked up the pen but froze. My hand hovered over the paper, heart racing. Allie turned toward me, brows knit together.

“You okay?” she asked softly.

I wanted to say no. I wanted to say that signing this felt like signing a death warrant, like I was erasing a bond I wasn’t ready to give up. But instead, I just cleared my throat and forced my hand to move. My name came out shakier than I wanted.

Allie watched me a second longer, then signed her own name beneath mine. Her pen didn’t tremble, and I tried not to feel hurt by that.

The lawyer beamed at us. “Great, then we’re all set! I’ll let you two know when the annulment is finalized. Congratulations on almost not being married anymore.”

We both gave awkward little laughs as we stood. I didn’t feel like celebrating.

Outside, the sunlight felt too bright. I shoved my hands in my pockets and glanced at Allie.

“That was weird,” I admitted.

She let out a breath. “Yeah.”

I hesitated. “Is it weird that I feel…kinda sad?”

Her eyes flicked up to mine, surprised. “You do?”

I nodded. “I know it was just a legal technicality, but still. I don’t know. It kind of meant something to me anyway, I guess.”

She looked at me for a long second. “Yeah,” she said, quieter now. “Me too. I didn’t think it would, but…it does.”

Neither of us said anything for a beat. Then I cleared my throat.

“Wanna get lunch? There’s a place nearby. Walking distance.”

She blinked, then gave me a small smile. “Yeah. That sounds good.”

We walked without much small talk, the kind of silence that had weight but not discomfort.

I liked that about being with Allie lately.

I didn’t feel like I had to fill every second with words or jokes.

I could just exist beside her, and that felt like something solid.

Even if we weren’t going to be legally bound to one another anymore pretty soon, we had developed at least that much of a bond.

The restaurant was one of those trendy spots with reclaimed wood tables and overpriced sandwiches. We got seated quickly, tucked into a corner booth. Allie ordered something light, I got something spicy, and then we mostly just sat there, each lost in our own thoughts.

I stole glances at her. She looked tired, like the morning had taken more out of her than she wanted to admit.

I knew that feeling. I kept thinking about how easily she could walk away now.

No more wedding rings, no more binding paperwork.

Nothing to stop her from deciding that this whole situation—me, Cade, Gavin—was too complicated.

She picked at her food, only managing a few bites before she put her fork down.

“You okay?” I asked.

She grimaced. “Yeah, just…this is wild. But someone behind us ordered something with…fish, I think? And the smell is making me nauseous.”

I sat up straighter, concern cutting through my calm. “Are you lightheaded or anything? Like at the zoo?”

She shook her head, pressing a hand to her stomach. “Just…oof.”

“Can I help?”

“No, I just…bathroom.” She slid out of the booth quickly, almost too quickly, and rushed toward the women’s restroom.

I watched her go, frowning. Something wasn’t right.

After a few minutes of anxiously waiting for Allie to return to no avail, I asked the waitress for our check and paid for both of us.

Still no sign of Allie for another few minutes after that either, and I suspected our server was anxious to get our table cleared and ready for someone else.

I grabbed Alllie’s purse and her phone, thinking I’d bring them to her.

Outside the bathroom, I hesitated, then knocked softly.

“Allie? You okay?” I called through the door.

No answer.

Her phone buzzed in my hand, and I glanced down at the screen out of habit. A preview popped up. A familiar name, a friend of Allie’s she’d told me plenty about. I didn’t mean to read the message, but Cade’s name jumped out at me, and I couldn’t help it.

Kara: Has the dust settled from telling Cade yet?

My heart stopped.

Another buzz.

Kara: O shit and are you gonna tell Daphne she has a dad now???

My breath caught. I hadn’t been trying to snoop. But there it was. Truth, bright and undeniable. Cade was Daphne’s father.

And she hadn’t told him yet. Hadn’t told any of us.

Allie came out of the bathroom a few minutes later, face pale and drawn. I handed her things to her silently and guided her outside to the car with a hand at the small of her back, the small touch grounding me.

“Thanks,” she murmured.

“Let’s get you home,” I said, my voice flat.

The drive was quiet. Too quiet. Allie didn’t seem to notice at first, still clearly not feeling great, even if she wasn’t quite as green.

I suspected she’d puked, and that was why she’d taken so long in the bathroom.

I hoped she didn’t have anything serious, though the fact that she felt wonky again so soon after the zoo was worrying.

But there was a greater feeling taking over, stronger than the worry.

My head was pounding. When we pulled into her apartment parking lot, I put the car in park and turned to her.

“We need to talk.”

She looked at me, wary. “About what?”

“About how you haven’t told Cade he’s Daphne’s father yet.”

Allie’s jaw dropped. “How did you?—?”

“I saw a text on your phone.”

“You read my texts?” Anger spiked in her tone.

“I just saw the preview. I wasn’t trying to, but I did. And now I know.”

Her jaw clenched. “That isn’t your business.”

“He’s one of my best friends, Allie.” My voice rose. “And he doesn’t know he has a daughter? Are you kidding me?”

“It’s complicated,” she snapped.

“Not that complicated. He deserves to know.”

“You don’t get to make that decision.”

I stared at her. “How long have you known?”

She looked away.

“Allie,” I pressed. “How long?”

“A while,” she said finally. Quiet. Almost ashamed.

“Before the zoo?”

She nodded. That hit me harder than I expected. “Jesus,” I muttered.

“I didn’t know what to do. It’s not just about Cade, it’s about Daphne. I’m…it’s complicated.”

“You already said that.”

“It’s still true,” she shot back, frustration tightening her throat and sending a pang through my chest. It sucked to feel at odds with her. Especially after the annulment meeting, the veil of uncertainty it cast over our relationship.

“You should have told him the second you found out,” I told her, feeling tired.

She shot me a look of panic. “If you tell him, Luca?—”

“I don’t want to,” I cut in. “But if you don’t do it yourself soon, I will. He has a right to know, and I can’t lie to his face.”

She stared at me, stunned. Then her expression hardened. “You don’t understand.”

“Maybe not,” I said bitterly. “But I know how it feels to care about Daphne. About both of you, and Gavin and Cade. Hiding the truth isn’t fair to any of them.”

Her lip trembled. Then she grabbed her bag and got out of the car without another word.

I sat there for a few minutes, stunned. Angry. Hurting. And I drove off with the image of her walking away like she might never come back burned into my brain.