My (Mostly) Secret Baby: A Grumpy Boss Romantic Comedy(46)

Damon





It was evening, and even though I knew I should really be using my time to try to patch things up with Trevor Castle, I could only think about Chelsea.

I’d told her the truth. Instead of making me feel like an idiot, I felt free. I didn’t feel vulnerable, I felt as if I’d finally been released from something that had been gripping me too tightly to breathe for years now.

I wasn’t dumb, of course. I knew Trish still held enough information to make my business go nuclear right under my nose, and she was apparently dead set on using it against me now. But for the first time, it felt like I had someone in my corner.

We were walking by the waterside. Savannah had a historic section that ran along the river. Cobbled roads led down a strip of shops that were mixed in with scenic overpasses and endless places to sit and admire the views.

Chelsea had taken my hand, and even though I’d always felt like people who held hands in public were obnoxious, I let her. I might’ve even enjoyed having the soft smallness of her fingers threaded between mine.

We sat down on a bench next to a stone monument. The water spread out in front of us and an old school, massive paddleboat trundled by while we watched.

“There’s something I should’ve told you a long time ago,” Chelsea said. “You have every right to be mad, so, I’m just going to say it.”

I braced myself. What the hell was she talking about? Whatever it was, it felt like two cold hands were gripping my insides, threatening to squeeze tight and rip me apart at a moment’s notice.

“Five years ago, you got me pregnant. The condom broke, and I never told you. I kept it a secret because I was afraid you’d use your money and influence to make me do something I didn’t want to do. Get an abortion, give up the baby—I didn’t know. But I thought you were a very bad person. I was ashamed of myself for sleeping with you and for letting something like that happen. I just—”

I realized I hadn’t been breathing. I shook my head, sucking in my first breaths. “I wore a condom.”

“It broke,” she repeated.

I blinked. “You never told me?”

I realized she was already explaining all of this, but she patiently shook her head. “I convinced myself you would hate me for it. That you’d hate the baby, too. I thought everyone would be better off if you never knew. Then I wound up working for you, and I think part of me wanted to reassure myself that I’d made the right call—that you really were the heartless asshole I thought you were back then. But you’re not. There’s so, so much more to you. You deserved to know back then, and you deserve to know now. She’s your daughter, Damon.”

I leaned forward on my knees. It felt like everything around me was spinning.

A daughter?

I had a fucking daughter?

There were too many emotions churning inside me to count or identify. It all blurred together in a thumping mass that felt like rushing water in my ears and hoofbeats in my chest. “She’s mine?”

“Yes,” Chelsea said, smiling as tears twinkled in the corners of her eyes. “And I know you probably hate me now, but I already waited too long to tell you. I just—”

I stood suddenly. “I need some time to think about this.”

Chelsea didn’t get up or try to stop me. She just nodded, hanging her head. “I understand.”

I handed her the hotel key. “I’ll have plane tickets sent to your room tomorrow morning.”

She looked like she wanted to ask about a dozen questions, but all she did was nod again.

Fuck.

I didn’t know how to feel. I really didn’t.





28





Chelsea





Luna hummed as she showed me how she learned to pour her own bowl of cereal while I was gone for the weekend. It was Monday morning. Birds were chirping outside, the sun was shining, and I needed to be at the office in a little less than an hour. I also hadn’t heard a word from Damon since our conversation in Savannah, and I’d kept myself up at night worrying he was meeting with teams of lawyers to figure out how to take custody of Luna from me.

Except, I knew that was crazy.

Maybe I’d only really known him for a week, but it felt like more. And I couldn’t truly make myself believe Damon would do something like that. If I did, I knew I wouldn’t have ever told him the truth, no matter how wrong it might’ve been.

I was stirred from my thoughts when Luna lifted up a milk carton the size of her head. Her eyes were barely over the counter as she stood on her little pink kitty stool and tried to aim the milk into her bowl.

“Oh—” I said, half-reaching for her. “Do you want me to help you?”

Luna grunted with effort, then sloshed about half a gallon of milk in the bowl. It splashed over the side and dripped from the counter to the floor. Unbothered, she set the milk back down with determination in her eyes and her tongue sticking out. She screwed the cap on—which made her shoot me a smug little grin—then scooted it out of her way.

Next, she poured cereal into the bowl until it created a floating mountain of multi-colored sugar balls.

She spread her hands. “Tada!”

“Wow,” I said. “That’s really impressive. I guess I don’t need to help you make your breakfast anymore, huh?” So long as that big money from Rose Athletic actually hits my account this Friday. Otherwise, Luna would run through a month’s worth of milk money in three days with pouring skills like that.