I didn’t think I’d be standing outside of his private office again, staring down the name plate and calming my nerves. But here I was.
I’d sat there for upwards of thirty minutes staring at his email, working out if there was a way I could feasibly get out of his summons. But he was the owner, he was the CEO, and I was an employee. At work, I had to play by his rules.
And his rules dictated that I come up to his office.
Swallowing my pride, I pushed the door open.
He sat behind his desk, pen and tablet in hand, his temple resting on the side of his fist, his wristwatch reflecting the downpour of sunlight through the large windows. The instant I stepped through the door, his brows rose and his eyes snapped to mine.
“Liv,” he breathed.
I shut the door behind me and leaned against it. “What do you want, Damien?” I sighed, crossing my arms over my chest in an effort to feel contained.
He stood, and I couldn’t stop myself from flinching. “I needed to talk to you.”
“About work?”
“About us.”
I stilled. I should have known. God, I should have known, should have imagined this. I’d given him the benefit of the doubt again. “There’s nothing to talk about.”
“There is everything to talk about,” he pushed.
“Unless you’ve invented a time machine and can take it all back, there isn’t.”
“Liv,” he sighed, coming around to the front of his desk and leaning on it. “I’m sorry. I understand that I fucked up. I understand how I made you feel when you had already done everything I’d asked for and more. You were never… You were never just there as somebody for me to use physically or emotionally.”
I turned my head from him. I couldn’t look at him, couldn’t hear him and take him in at the same time. It made it too hard. Instead, I stared across at the sofa on the other side of the office and the smattering of plants around it, watching how the little particles of dust in the air almost glittered in the sunlight. “That doesn’t matter,” I said.
“Why?” he pressed.
“Because I can’t trust you anymore, Damien. You broke that.”
“I understand that. I know I fucked up. Let me build it back, please, Liv. I wanted everything with you. I still do. You, me, Noah. I want you, Liv, and not the things you’d do for me. I can only apologize so many times before it becomes meaningless, but I’m so—”
“It wouldn’t be just you, me, and Noah,” I breathed.
I almost regretted it. Almost. I knew it shouldn’t come out like this, knew that in my fantasies I’d told him over romantic dinners or on his yacht or as we laid in bed one evening. But I couldn’t do that. I didn’t have the strength to do that, not when I couldn’t see a future where any of those things happened again.
“What do you mean?” he asked.
I swallowed, but it did nothing to stop the rising acid in my esophagus. “I’m pregnant.”
It felt like a fucking grand piano had been lifted off my shoulders. But somehow, it also felt like being hit by a semi-truck.
His silence struck me, and as much as I wanted to look away, I needed to see him. I needed to see his reaction, needed to gauge what he was feeling. I dragged myself back to him.
A steeled jaw and an averted gaze were all I got in response.
“Are you going to say something?” I asked.
“How long have you known?” The words were dark, twisted, angry. If I hadn’t been leaning against the door, I would have taken a thousand steps back.
“I knew before I found the papers,” I gulped. “I’m eight and a half weeks.”
“Are you positive?”
“About the timeline? Yeah, I—”
“No, Olivia. That you’re pregnant,” he snapped.
The back of my head knocked against the door as I reeled back from his tone. “Yes, I took a million home tests and did a blood test.”
He ran a hand through his hair, his gaze drifting to the ceiling. “Fuck.”
My gut twisted. I knew I’d picked an inopportune moment to tell him, but this wasn’t how I’d imagined he’d react. Even knowing he only wanted one child, even knowing the friction between us.
“And you want to keep it?”
Fucking nail in the coffin.
Acting on instinct, I reached for the door handle and peeled myself away from the wood. This was worse than what I’d thought two seconds ago. This was hell, this was horror, and I needed to get the fuck out, needed to run and cut him off. I needed to abandon whatever small amount of hope was still left inside of me and mourn the loss of Noah and a would-be father to the child growing inside of me. I needed to mourn what I once thought I had a shot at.
I slipped through the door before he could say another word that hurt me.
