One Baby Daddy (Dating by Numbers #3)(106)

“What’s going on?” He’s not angry, just incredibly concerned.

Hayden, yes that’s Hayden. I had sex with Hayden, not Logan.

I had sex . . .

Oh God. I had sex with Hayden, when Logan kissed me yesterday and told me he loved me. And that dream, what was that about?

It felt so real, being in Logan’s arm, his lips grazing my skin, his voice rumbling over my body, igniting a fire deep within me. But it wasn’t Logan. It was Hayden, right?

“Baby, you’re scaring me, is everything okay?”

I shake my head, unable to look Hayden in the eyes. Scrambling out of his grasp, I search for my clothes. This was a mistake, a huge mistake. I should have never had sex with Hayden, especially when I’m so unsure of anything.

Logan loves me.

Hayden wants me. Hayden needs me.

I’m having Hayden’s baby.

I don’t want to lose Logan.

I don’t know what to do.

Bra is the first thing I find, so I strap that on followed by my pants and shirt, forgetting my lace thong entirely. Not even looking back, I go to the entryway where I slip on my shoes and snag my purse from the console table. Before I can open the door, a strong hand halts the door in place. From the corner of my eye, Hayden’s body appears, covered in athletic shorts and that’s it. His chest is heaving. I can only imagine the death glare he must be giving me.

“What the hell is going on?”

“I need to go home,” I say, keeping my eyes fixed on the door in front of me, willing it to open on its own.

“Why the fuck do you need to go home?” Angry Hayden, just like the day at the cottage when I broke things off. It’s the same tone in his voice, the same furious vibe pulsing off him.

“Logan will wonder where I am.” The words pop out of my mouth before I can stop them. I go to correct myself, but nothing comes to mind. So instead the mention of Logan’s name hangs in the air between us, like an impossibly large pink elephant.

“Do you care if he knows you’re here, with me?”

I play with the strap of my purse, unable to answer Hayden’s question.

“Look at me, Adalyn.” When I don’t turn around, he carefully moves me so I’m against the door, forced to look him in the eyes—his distraught and sad eyes. “Do you have feelings for Logan?”

Do I have feelings for Logan? Good question. He’s my friend, a man I once saw myself having a future with. I could see us fitting perfectly into each other’s lives. And then . . .

That was a mistake.

Those four words knocked me on my ass, tainted my view of him.

But after last night, I don’t even know anymore. But I just thought the same words about Hayden, and I’d wanted him with every fiber of my being.

“I see,” Hayden says, taking my silence as an answer.

Pushing off the door, he runs both his hands through his hair, his muscles straining, his features a picture of pain.

“Fuck, I don’t want to have to fight for you, Adalyn. I thought . . .” He pauses and shakes his head. “I thought we had something.” Going to his couch, he sits down and bows his head forward, both hands gripping the back of his neck, a man completely and utterly hurting. Suffering.

Go to him, I tell myself. Hold him, reassure him. Tell him it’s going to be okay. But every time I get the courage to take a step forward, Logan’s pleading and loving eyes flash in front of me.

I’m stone, unable to move. And with each passing second I don’t move, I’m slicing the man before me right in half.

“Fuck,” he mutters and stands from the couch. Shaking his head, he grabs the keys from the console table and opens the door. Somberly, he says, “I’ll drive you home.”

The drive is deathly silent and what should be a five-minute drive feels like an hour of pure torture, my mind racing a mile a minute trying to think of something to say, some kind of reassurance to end the pain Hayden is so visibly going through.

When we reach my apartment, Hayden parks the car and looks out the window, his hand gripping his chin, contemplating something. Unsure of what to say, I reach for the door handle when Hayden grips my arm.

Still staring out the window, he sighs and takes a second before he brings his focus to me.

Deflated and dejected, he removes his hand from me and says, “Before you go up to your apartment, I need you to know something.” His throat tight, he clears it and continues, his voice strained. “The day I met you at Racer’s, I knew the universe I was living in was altered by your presence. I knew at that moment I would never be the same. My instinct never fails me. I was right. Over a little Northeast summer, I grew to know this incredibly funny, authentic, and beautiful woman. I learned about your family, your younger years, your fears, and your loves. With each story you told, each passing glance you gave me, every part of your body you let me own, I fell deeper and deeper in love with you.” My breath catches in my throat. “And then you told me you were pregnant. Yeah, I was shocked at first, but after the shock wore off, it was solidified. The woman I met over a stack of unpaid bills was the woman I would never be able to let go.” Shaking his head, his shoulders slump as he looks past me, up at the apartment. “And yet, here I am, having no choice but to let you go.”

Passing his hand over his mouth, he brings my hand to his lips and presses a gentles kiss across my knuckles.