“And the fact that you cared enough to convince me to stop relying on those pills and always wanted to take care of me . . . I’d never been treated like that by a woman. Most were more concerned with getting my autograph, finding out if the shit they’d seen in the tabloids about my mother was true, or posing for a picture with me to post to their Instagram. It was all about saying they’d met me. You didn’t care about any of that.”

She met my eyes. “Not a bit. The nurturer in me just wanted to feed you.”

I truly couldn’t imagine my life without her in it. I’d never been one for commitment, but I needed to make sure she stuck by my side no matter what the future held. I couldn’t fuck this up.

* * *

Emmy was in my bathroom drying her hair while I prepared a light breakfast of poached eggs and fruit for us. It turned out having her here made me want to cook. I transferred a bowl of blueberries and sliced pineapple to the breakfast bar just as my phone began to ring.

I padded into the living room and found it on the console table. Damn. It was Fiona.

“Hello?

“Hi, love,” she cooed in her sharp British accent that I used to think was sexy.

“Did you need something?” The last thing I needed was Emmy finding me on the phone with Fiona, though I could still hear the blow-dryer running.

“Yes, I actually wanted to tell you that I’ve decided to go through with the paternity testing after all. It’s driving me mad not knowing.”

“Uh . . . okay. I’m happy to pay for it.”

She huffed. “You know that’s not why I’m telling you. I don’t need your money, love.”

No, I supposed she didn’t. She had plenty of her own. She ran a top modeling agency in New York. She made 15 percent commission on everything I made, and I did quite well. “When will you know?”

“The test is on Tuesday, so about a week or ten days after that. I’ll be sure to call you.”

“Okay.” I didn’t quite know how I felt about all this. Emmy and I seemed strong right now . . . but if the baby turned out to be mine . . . I didn’t know.

“Is Emmy there now?”

I could still hear the blow-dryer running. “Yes.”

Fiona paused for a long moment, the sound of her breathing soft yet distinct. “Ben, does she know your past like I do? Does she know everything, including your little indiscretion from years ago?”

My mind reeled to follow her line of thinking. Then it came roaring back to me. My mistake two years ago. Of course I’d told Fiona about it at the time—as my manager it was possible she’d need to keep it from leaking to the public. I didn’t know why she was bringing it up now, however. My stomach dropped. Unless she planned to use it against me with Emmy. “Don’t fucking wreck this for me. I will walk away from your agency so fast.”

“Ben, I’d never do anything to hurt you. You should know that. I’m just asking a simple question. Does she know?”

“No. And I hope she never will. Now drop it,” I growled and hung up, resisting the urge to hurl my phone against the wall. Instead I let it fall from my open hand and onto the carpet with a soft thud. Fuck. I felt like punching something.

“Who was that?” Emmy asked, looking concerned and standing in the doorway.

I hadn’t heard her there. “Ah. Nobody, baby.” Nice lie, asshole. God, what was wrong with me? She frowned. “Come here.” Emmy walked into my outstretched arms and laid her head against my chest. My heart was pounding like crazy. I couldn’t have anything ruin us. “It was Fiona, actually.”

“Oh?” She stepped back out of my arms.

“Yeah, she wanted to tell me she decided to have the paternity testing done after all.”

“Okay.” She visibly swallowed, her hands clenching at her sides. “So we’ll know something soon.”

“Yes, in one to two weeks.”

Emmy took two more steps backward. “Why is she doing it now? She said . . .”

“I know.”

Her arms crossed over her chest in a defensive stance. “If this is some angle to try and get you back. I mean, if you turn out to be the father . . .”

I tugged her close again, stroking her hair. “Hey, I’m not going anywhere. It’s me and you, babe.” I only hoped it stayed that way.

Watching Emmy move around my apartment, the striking force of realization that hit me was almost too much. I couldn’t lose her. I knew with certainty I would marry her tomorrow if she’d have me; I’d move to Tennessee if that’s what she wanted. Christ, it’d put us farther away from all the drama in my life and give us peace to just enjoy each other. I imagined us owning a country home that she could fill with beautiful things and delicious foods. I imagined watching her belly grow round with the life we created. It made me weak in the knees to realize how badly I needed something I didn’t even know I wanted.

I felt something powerful surge in my chest. As soon as Fiona’s test came back, I could have Emmy like I wanted. Like she wanted—marriage, a real commitment, a home we built together, and children in our future. Just us. No more drama. No more Fiona. I couldn’t fucking wait.

* * *

“Shit, man, I never thought I’d see the day.” Braydon shook his head, the beer bottle suspended halfway to his mouth all but forgotten. He stared at me, a look of surprise etched into his features, like I’d grown a second head. But I guess that’s what happened when you told your best friend you were thinking of popping the question.

He was right, I’d never wanted to commit, never wanted to have someone in my life—until now. I used to love my life—coming and going as I pleased, jetting off to exotic cities, adding stamps to my passport, and not having to answer to anyone, except maybe Fiona. Now it all seemed so incredibly empty. And dull. And meaningless. I wanted more. And having Emmy by my side provided a certain comfort, a feeling of being loved and cared for that I had never known was missing. God, I sounded pathetic. If I actually said these things out loud, Braydon would probably tell me to grow a pair. And rightly so. I needed to have my man card checked. But shit, love made a person do crazy things. And I wanted to put a big old diamond on my baby’s finger, see her eyes light up, and take her to the bedroom to make love to her slowly, to make her understand that she was mine forever.

He took a slug from his beer. “Ben mother-fuckin’ Shaw settling down, committing to one woman, just one pussy to sink into for all of eternity. Damn, bro.”

I shot him an angry scowl. His words were meant to scare me but they had the opposite effect. Knowing Emmy would be mine for the rest of forever sounded pretty fucking perfect to me. Although I hated knowing he’d been inside her, too. He knew just how perfect and sweet she was. The thought didn’t sit well with me. I downed the shot of bourbon and held up the empty shot glass, signaling the bartender for another.

“Although it is Emmy. Shit, if she looked at me like she does you, I’d probably be getting down on one knee, too,” Braydon said, looking contemplative.

“Yeah, right.” We both knew Braydon preferred his single life way too much to make a commitment like that. His one serious girlfriend fucked him up pretty royally, too, so I didn’t see him jumping on the relationship train anytime soon.

“Wipe that angry-ass look off your face. I’m happy for you, man.”

“Thanks,” I bit out.

“Can I be best man?”

“You promise not to talk about my future wife’s pussy ever again?”

A lopsided grin lifted his mouth and he chewed on his lip as if deciding whether he could live with my request. I slugged his shoulder and the grin disappeared in a damn hurry. “Ouch. Fuck, man, you’re touchy.” He rubbed his shoulder. “She’s all yours. You have nothing to worry about. That girl is crazy in love with you, too.”

I smiled, knowing he was right. Emmy was perfect. And soon she would be mine. Forever.

* * *

It took me a moment to place the voice on the other end of the phone. Her broken sobs made it nearly impossible to make out what she was saying. “Fiona? Is that you?”

“Y-yes,” she cried, heaving a breath inward.

“What happened? Is the baby okay?”

“Fine. The baby’s fine.” She quieted for a moment, seeming to pull herself together, because when she spoke again, her voice was much clearer. “The results came back.”

My stomach sunk like a stone. “Okay . . . that’s a good thing, right?” It was time to face the music.

“I suppose so.”

“What’s it say, Fiona?” I held my breath, waiting, while my heart jackhammered against my ribs.

“It’s not yours, love.” Her voice went whisper soft like she was breaking the news to me gently.

My fist pumped in the air, but I held back the shout of joy I wanted to let trip. “Wow. So your last fertility treatment must have worked, then?”

“Seems so,” she said, her voice full of melancholy.

“How do you feel?”

“Shocked. Surprised. I really thought it was yours. And I’d gotten over thinking that you and I were going to be together, but I thought I’d always have this little piece of you. . . .”

We each remained quiet for a few moments, letting the weight of this information sink in.

“Fiona?”

“Yes, love?”

“I need to ask something of you.”

“Anything.”

“I need you to let me go, to release me from my contract early. I’m leaving Status to work for myself.”

She hesitated briefly, releasing a heavy sigh. “If that’s what you want.”

“It is,” I confirmed.

“Then I’ll tear up the contract. Consider it my gift to you for five loyal years.”