I had always been good at math. Med school required it—dosages, statistics, biostats, even the dreaded calculus. I aced them all.
So, I knew how to calculate a due date, and after working out the math on Ella’s, I couldn’t think of anything else.
For days, I had done nothing but run the numbers in my head, over and over, as if the outcome might somehow change. But it didn’t. It never did. The timeline was too perfect.
The twins were early, but not too early. Backtracking their conception pointed straight to that week on the island with Ella.
And now, nothing else mattered. I had to know.
I sat at my hospital office desk, fingers drumming, coffee cold at my elbow, walls closing in.
What else could I do?
I had already reached out—sent a basket, every luxury a new mom might need. I needed her to know I was thinking of her. Maybe, selfishly, I needed her to think of me.
I had included the plastic mermaid in the basket because I wanted to remind her of what we had. To feel what I felt—that it hadn’t just been some meaningless one-night stand.
But the truth was, I didn’t know what I felt. You don’t develop feelings for a person in one night. That’s not how this works.
I wasn’t a hopeless romantic. Love at first sight didn’t exist—not really. That was chemistry. Lust. A trick of biology.
But Ella? She left a mark. A need that hadn’t faded.
I wasn’t used to being left behind. Women didn’t slip out of my bed without a word. They lingered, hoping for another night, another chance. Ella vanished before the sheets cooled, and that shouldn’t have gotten under my skin.
But it did.
And if this obsession had been just about pride, I would have forgotten her by now.
I grabbed my phone, my fingers moving before I could second-guess myself again.
Dom: Hey, Ella. Just checking in. How are you?
I stared at the screen, my pulse hammering. It wasn’t ten minutes before three dots appeared. Then they vanished. Then they came back.
Ella: Hey. I’m okay. Tired, but good.
I exhaled sharply. She didn’t sound distant. That was something. I took a chance.
Dom: I’d like to see you. Can we meet up?
There was a longer pause this time. Then—
Ella: I’m not leaving my apartment anytime soon, so if you want to see me, you’ll have to come to me.
My chest tightened. An invitation. At least things were moving in the right direction.
Dom: 6 good?
Ella: See you then.
The rest of my workday felt like a weight had been lifted. I moved through surgeries on autopilot—still doing my best, but my mind was elsewhere. No one seemed to notice, so I must have been doing well enough.
By the end of my shift, the streets of New York blurred past me as I walked, my body moving on autopilot.
My mind wasn’t in this office. It was back on that island. Back on her.
I could still see her—sun-kissed skin glowing under the tiki torches, hair wild from the ocean breeze, laughter sharp and intoxicating. She was untamed, messy, perfect.
I remembered how she melted against me. The way she gasped when I slid inside her, nails carving into my shoulders, begging for more without a single word.
I still tasted her—salt, bourbon, fruit, and something purely Ella. I could still hear the low, desperate sounds she made as I pushed her to the edge, the crash of waves filling the room as I buried myself deeper inside her.
I wanted her like I hadn’t wanted anyone in years.
And I wasn’t done wanting her.
I hadn’t thought about protection that night. Not once. I was clean, tested regularly, and I’d assumed she was covered. That’s how it usually went—with women my age, women who handled their own birth control or were past worrying about it.
But Ella was younger. I’d been reckless.
I muttered a sharp curse, the sting of it hitting me fresh.
Still… would I have done a damn thing differently? Even knowing what I know now?
No.
Not for a second.
But now, I had to deal with the fallout.
Could I handle raising kids again? At my age?
I’d loved it the first time. But back then, I was younger. I had energy to burn and a wife who managed the home so I could dominate my career.
Now? Everything was different.
I had grown kids. One, a ray of sunshine. The other, Leonardo—a man-child still playing at adulthood.
And just as I was poised to take on a job role that would own my time, my focus… did I really want to swap boardrooms for bottle feedings? Executive decisions for midnight meltdowns?
More importantly—could I still do it?
Patience wasn’t exactly my strong suit anymore. I needed sleep. I’d earned the right to need sleep. When Leonardo was born, I was practically a kid myself, running on adrenaline and bad coffee. And Jodie’s parents picked up the slack when we couldn’t.
This time? There wouldn’t be a village.
It would be me.
I didn’t have answers yet—but I would get them.
I needed the truth before I made any moves. Logic said there was a chance the twins weren’t mine. Maybe she met someone else at the resort. Maybe some guy on the flight home. Hell, maybe she crawled back to that bastard ex of hers.
All possible. But I didn’t know if I wanted them to be true.
If she had slept with someone else, if someone else was the biological father, then I was off the hook. And I didn’t know if I wanted to be off the hook.
The only thing I knew for sure was how to play it.
She’d open the door, probably tired, but beautiful in that way only new mothers could be—soft, radiant, and stronger than hell. She’d let me inside, and I’d meet the girls—see them up close for the first time. After helping her settle them down for the night, we’d open the wine I brought and talk.
Reminisce about that night. Feel that pull again.
And if luck was on my side, I’d end the night buried inside her.
Finally, I’d ask the question that had been eating me alive, and she’d tell me the answer that could shake my world.
When I reached her building, I hesitated for only a second before knocking. The door opened a moment later, and—
Jesus.
She looked wrecked.
She had dark circles under her eyes and her hair was piled into a messy bun, strands falling loose. Pajama pants hung low on her hips, the fabric wrinkled and stained.
And despite all of that—despite the exhaustion written across every inch of her face and leaking out of every pore—she was still the most beautiful woman I had seen in years.
For a second, I forgot what I had come here to say. My brain was nothing but oatmeal.
She just stared at me. Silent. Frozen. Like I’d knocked the wind out of her without even touching her.
Her hazel eyes darted across my face, searching for something—mercy, maybe, or a way out—but finding none.
The color drained from her cheeks, leaving her pale but still maddeningly beautiful, radiant in a way that only mothers were. A fresh glow beneath the fatigue, the kind that made my gut twist and my chest burn.
The air stretched between us, taut as a wire, vibrating with everything we weren’t saying.
“Are they mine?” The words ripped out of me, raw and unforgiving, shattering my careful plan.
No easing in.
No waiting.
Just the brutal truth clawing its way to the surface.
Ella froze, her breath hitching like I’d sucker-punched her. Her eyes widened, wild and glassy, and her knuckles turned white where they gripped the doorframe. She stumbled back a step, like the floor itself had shifted beneath her. An invitation? A silent confession?
I followed her inside, shutting the door with a click that echoed like a gunshot in the suffocating silence. Bracing for the storm I knew was coming.
