Plan B (Best Laid Plans #2)(21)

I'm momentarily surprised that he remembers what I do for a living. And that he's given this so much thought in the sixteen or so hours he's had to adjust to the idea.

"My plan," I reply as I cross my arms across my chest, mimicking his stance while sitting up straighter in my seat, "is to resign from that job at the end of this week. As soon as the current tour is over."

"You're scheduled on a tour this week?" He looks confused, rightly so.

"Um, well, yeah." I shrug it off and slide down in the chair a little. "But I sent my sister in my place. We're twins. Identical."

He uncrosses his arms to bring a hand up to his face with a long-suffering sigh over my idiocy. I assume that's what he's sighing about anyway. Admittedly this part of my plan doesn't sound real solid.

"Oh, relax. We don't normally do this, she's too much of a goody two-shoes. This was a one-time thing. I caught her in a moment of weakness and I had a scheduling conflict so I sent her in my place. It was a good plan."

"The scheduling conflict being me?" He raises his brows in question.

Err. Okay, so from his point of view this probably doesn't sound great, but honestly I didn't think he was going to be so interested in what my plans were so I wasn't really prepared to sell it.

"Also, I've got a conference to go to this week."

"Your planning skills sound amazing so far. Sounds like my baby is in good hands."

I shoot him a dirty look because fuck him. I've managed to take care of this baby for ten weeks all by myself. Granted, it's the size of a raspberry and I didn't even know it was there for the first few weeks, but still. I'm more capable than I'm given credit for.

"So your plan is quitting your job," he prods, waving his hand for me to continue.

"I don't need anything from you, okay? I have a very successful blog. The blog has been my primary source of income for two years. The travel guide position was just a convenient way to fund my travel and grow the blog, but I'm good now. I'm established. I'm going to focus on that. I'm fine." I add the last bit a little testily because I'm starting to feel like I'm being interviewed about my life choices and I'm not here for that.

"So you're going to focus on your travel blog. With a baby?"

"Yup. I'll just fit my work in around the baby's sleep schedule."

He just stares at me like he's some kind of baby expert and I have no idea what I'm getting into. I mean fine, I might be projecting a little bit but I don't appreciate his attitude.

"I'll take the baby with me," I add in case he's confused. "I've already created a second blog page and registered the domain for a traveling with kids site. I've done the research, I'm going to double my revenue by adding a second site about traveling with kids. Millennials are all about traveling with their babies."

"Like vagabonds?" Yeah. He's not impressed.

"Vagabonds? What are you, eighty-seven years old?"

He's quiet for a few moments, staring at me like I'm a puzzle to be solved while stroking his chin like an ancient professor. It's annoying.

But he's also really hot. That's annoying too.

"What does your family think about all this?" he finally asks when it's clear I'm not going to say more.

"They don't know yet," I admit.

"And why is that? You haven't told your sister? Your identical twin sister? I imagine you must be very close, so why haven't you shared this with her?"

"It's not really any of your business."

We play the staring game for another round.

"She worries about me, okay? My sister has always sort of looked out for me even though we're the same age and I don't want her to feel responsible for worrying about this. For this baby. I'm going to tell her, and our parents. Of course I will. I just wanted to get myself organized a bit first."

"Organized." He repeats the word slowly and I'm not sure what he's thinking exactly.

"It's a better plan than pretending to be married."

"To be clear, it would be a real marriage. Legally speaking."

"Are you nuts? Do you fancy yourself some kind of royalty from the Victoria era in which we must marry because I've been compromised with your child? Newsflash, Kyle, it's the twenty-first century and I'm a grown woman. We don't need to do this. I don't even have your phone number and you're talking about some kind of legal marriage of convenience?"

"Yes." He says it calmly, firmly. One simple word. "Yes, I do need it. I need for this child to have my name. You've made yourself clear that you don't need me, but I need you. You're the baby's mother and thus a package deal because I want to be involved. And I want a legal heir. For a legal heir, I need a wife. And a marriage would suit you as well, I believe."

"How is that?"

"You'd seem quite... organized for your family, wouldn't you? If you were married. Settled."

"Does this arranged marriage include sex? Will you want me to lie back, open my legs and think of England whenever you have need?"

He stares at me for a full five seconds before laughing. "I don't believe anything we've done together involved you lying back and thinking about anything but screaming my name."