Carrying Her Millionaire's Baby

by Sophie Pembroke

  Glad that Ash knew he was going to be a father.

  ‘That’s why you messaged today? To tell me?’ Ash asked, and she nodded. ‘And how long have you known? Because I figured, when I didn’t hear anything weeks ago...’

  Zoey winced. ‘I know. I’m sorry. But I couldn’t work up the courage to take a test until this morning. I texted you as soon as I knew.’

  Ash nodded, still looking poleaxed. She couldn’t blame him. She still felt much the same way.

  ‘So it’s definitely... God, no. I’m not even asking that. Of course it is. You wouldn’t be telling me otherwise.’

  ‘Yes, it’s yours,’ Zoey confirmed for him anyway. ‘No doubts there. Abstinence thing before the wedding, remember?’

  ‘Right. Sure.’ Ash ran a hand through his dark hair, his pale blue eyes still wide and wild beneath it. He shouldn’t look so gorgeous right now, Zoey thought. Or at least she shouldn’t be noticing it. There were kind of weightier matters to deal with. But it seemed her libido—or her heart—didn’t care so much about those.

  She stepped forward and placed a hand on his arm, looking up into his handsome, dear face. ‘I’m sorry, Ash.’

  Her words seemed to snap something in him as he shook his head firmly.

  ‘You have nothing to be sorry for,’ he said, his voice low and harsh. ‘We were both there on that island together. I take my half of the responsibility too. And even then, it’s a baby, Zoey. Our baby. We made a new life together. Neither one of us should ever have to apologise for that.’

  Our baby. For the first time since she’d seen the word forming on the stick that morning, some of the tension drained out of Zoey’s shoulders. She wasn’t alone with this any longer.

  Maybe we humans weren’t made to do everything alone, anyway. Which didn’t mean she was ready to give up her plan for taking care of herself. But it wasn’t just her now, was it?

  And it was kind of a relief to let Ash shoulder some of the responsibility from here on out.

  ‘Are you okay?’ He was close, Zoey realised suddenly. Very close. His hands held onto her upper arms as he studied her, but there was none of the lust and want she’d seen there last time they’d been together. Instead, he held her almost delicately, as if he were afraid he might break her. ‘With the pregnancy, I mean. Have you seen a doctor yet? No, you only took the test this morning. Well, that’s first up, I guess?’

  Zoey nodded mutely, unsure how much he actually needed her to contribute to this conversation.

  ‘And Zoey—’ those pale blue eyes held hers in their gaze, steady and sure and reassuring ‘—you’re never on your own in this, okay? I’m here, for whatever you need.’

  The nausea was starting to rise up again, as if now she was officially pregnant the morning sickness needed to up its game. ‘Mostly I think I need to get out of here,’ she admitted. ‘Can you take me home?’

  ‘No,’ Ash said, smiling incongruously. ‘Because if home was somewhere you were happy to be you’d have let me pick you up from there this evening.’

  Zoey winced. ‘I’ll find somewhere new before the baby comes,’ she promised.

  ‘We’ll find somewhere else,’ he corrected. ‘In fact, you already have somewhere else. Move in with me.’

  ‘Ash...’

  ‘I mean it. It’s the obvious solution.’

  She knew that he meant it; that wasn’t the problem. But the idea of being there with him all day, every day, living in his space... How was she meant to keep resisting him if he was that close?

  Another wave of nausea flowed over her and she realised the whole resisting thing might be easier than she’d thought if that carried on. Those damn prawns. She’d felt fine until a waiter had waved a tray of prawns under her nose. She was never eating seafood again.

  ‘We need a plan, Zo,’ he said, more softly. ‘We’ve got, what, seven months or so to figure out how we’re going to do this together. So we need to start now, right?’

  ‘With me moving in?’ Zoey shook her head. ‘I think there have to be a few other steps we can cover first, don’t you?’ Stalling, that was the key. Until she felt less awful and could think rationally about all this.

  Because right now the only part of her brain that was working was screaming for her to just let go and let Ash take care of her. And she was very afraid she might start listening to it soon.

  ‘You’re right,’ Ash said, unexpectedly. But he was already signalling to the cloakroom attendant over her shoulder, asking for their coats. ‘We’ve lots of things to talk about. So let’s head back to my place and talk.’

  ‘Ash...’

  ‘There are no prawns, I promise,’ he said, and she looked up at him suddenly. ‘You turned green when the waiter brought those out. I think I started to guess then.’

  ‘I hate seafood,’ she muttered again.

  ‘Just...come home with me tonight, Zoey. Please. Come home with me, I’ll make you a peppermint tea to soothe your stomach and we’ll talk as much or as little as you want. Okay?’

  And really, how was a girl supposed to turn down an offer like that? The cloakroom girl’s expression made it very clear that if Zoey didn’t want to take him up on it, she would.

  She was tired. She felt sick. And she really wanted someone to lean on for a while.

  She wanted her best friend.

  ‘Okay,’ Zoey said, hoping she wouldn’t regret it later.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  ASH HAD SPENT more time in his London flat over the last month than in the whole two years before, since he’d bought it. Still, opening the door and stepping inside now, with Zoey behind him, it was as if he were seeing it for the first time again.

  The white, sleek flooring. The modern black kitchen, open-plan to the black-and-white themed lounge and dining area. There was no colour here, he realised suddenly. How had he never noticed that before?

  He turned, expecting to see Zoey in her usual bright hues, but found that damn navy dress again, and an uncertain look on her face that made him nervous.

  He needed to convince her to stay. And looking at the place he laughingly called his home, even he couldn’t see any reasons why she would.

  ‘I don’t think I’ve ever actually been here, you know.’ She stepped inside, looking around her curiously.

  ‘Let’s be honest, I’ve barely ever been here.’ He felt as if he wanted to make excuses for the place. To promise that when the baby came there’d be softer edges and brighter colours.

  Although just having Zoey there made everything feel softer and brighter, anyway.

  As she settled herself on one of the high kitchen stools—and he resisted the urge to tell her to get down in case she fell and hurt the baby, because he knew it was irrational, but that didn’t stop him thinking about it—he fixed her a peppermint tea and an ordinary cup for himself. Tea was soothing. Tea would help.

  ‘So.’ Zoey looked him directly in the eye over her mug. ‘How do you want to do this?’

  Ash knew exactly how they should do this. But before he got a chance to tell her, Zoey kept on talking.

  ‘I mean, I assume you want to be involved in the baby’s life, right? Not just one of those dads who sends money but never sees them. Not that I’m after your money or anything, but obviously it would help. But I can do it alone if I have to. And I know you travel a lot for work, so I’m not expecting that you’ll suddenly become a stay-at-home dad or anything. But I would like to keep working, after my maternity leave, so there’s that. And I know I need to move flats, and I guess there are probably a few things to change around here before the baby comes too. But basically, whatever involvement you want, I can work with, I think.’

  ‘I want us to get married,’ Ash said bluntly, the moment she stopped for breath.

  Zoey’s whole body jerked away from him so fast he reached out to grab her in case she really
did fall off the stool.

  ‘No.’ The word came out on a sharp wave of disbelief and anger that Ash couldn’t quite understand.

  ‘Why not? It’s perfect. You can move in here—or...or we can find somewhere new together. A proper family home.’ Like the one he’d had with Grace. That would have been perfect. ‘You’ll have all the money you need if you’re married to me, we can choose a nanny together so we can both carry on working as we normally do, and whenever I’m home we can be together as a family, without any awkward logistics. I don’t see the problem.’

  ‘Apart from the fact that that was the least romantic proposal ever?’ Zoey asked, one eyebrow raised. ‘Ash, I promised myself, after I left David, that I’d turn down the next proposal that came my way. Because weddings really haven’t worked out that well for me in the past, remember?’

  ‘But this one would be different.’ Ash grabbed her hands and held them against his chest, staring down into her eyes as he tried to convince her.

  This was his one shot, he realised. His one shot to live the life he’d thought had been ripped from him for ever. His chance at a future worth living—not through the company or money or a fancy flat. But with a woman he adored and a child they could raise together.

  His one chance at a family again. And there was no one on earth he’d rather do it with.

  ‘Zoey, this time we know what we’re getting into. We know each other, better than you ever knew any of those guys you ran out on, I reckon. And we know what we’re signing up for. This isn’t some hopeful fairy-tale ending. This is something better. It’s a family. You, me and our child.’

  ‘Ash...’

  ‘I can’t promise you true love,’ he said, his gaze darting away to the floor as he remembered why. ‘You know that. But really, what good has that quest ever done you anyway? Yes, we both know it exists, but we also know it’s rare as hens’ teeth and that not everyone gets to experience it. But we could have this. Together.’

  He slid off his stool to hold her closer, feeling her heartbeat racing against his chest. ‘You’re my best friend, Zoey. There’s no one in the world I’d rather raise a child with. No other woman I’d want in my life the way I want you there. You’re it for me now.’

  There was a tiny sob. Was she crying? And was it too much to hope that it was tears of happiness?

  He had to take the chance that it was. His heart thumping in his chest, Ash dropped to his knees, still holding her hands, and looked up.

  ‘Zoey Hepburn, will you give my life meaning again and marry me?’

  She swallowed, hard enough that he could see her throat bob, tears drying on her cheeks.

  ‘Yes. I will.’

  And Ash’s world slid back into focus again.

  * * *

  There was a strong chance that Zoey might have made a terrible mistake.

  As she surveyed Ash’s apartment, her suitcase at her feet, she wondered if it was too late to back out now. Then she remembered the vintage ring on her finger, and the baby growing inside her, and realised that too late was about two months ago already.

  The problem wasn’t that she didn’t want to marry Ash. It was that she was a bit afraid she wanted it too much.

  ‘Is this really everything?’ Ash asked as he lugged another suitcase through the door.

  Zoey shrugged. ‘I move often. I learned to travel light.’

  Her whole life in two suitcases. She’d packed up and started again so many times now that she only kept the essentials. Every wedding she ran out on was a chance to slim down her possessions, if nothing else.

  ‘I’ll put these in your room, then.’ He grabbed the other case—which she hadn’t been allowed to carry up the stairs either—and headed in the direction of the bedrooms.

  Your room. Not our room. Another reminder that this wasn’t a real marriage.

  Ash had been, as predicted, horrified by her flat share. And Zoey had to admit, as she sank down onto one of his black leather couches to look out over the London skyline, the view was much better from here. She was sure the place would start to feel homelier in time, anyway. Even if she still felt garishly out of place in her pink and white sundress.

  The biggest problem was that this—the luxury flat, Ash carrying her suitcases—definitely wasn’t doing things by herself.

  She sighed, and made herself remember all the reasons she’d agreed to this.

  It wasn’t as if she hadn’t followed through and said no the first time he’d proposed, anyway. But the second time...he’d painted such a perfect picture of their future together, she’d known that they could be happy together.

  Although possibly happier if they were sharing the same bedroom...

  The point was, she had a future now. A plan. And, more importantly, so did her child. And so did Ash.

  This could be the last chance either of them had to find that kind of happiness—together. And while it might not be the happily-ever-after she’d been searching for, she had to admit it was pretty damn good.

  Ash wanted this. Wanted her, and their child.

  And when he’d looked at her, that longing in his eyes for something he’d never thought he could have again, that was when she’d realised.

  She could never turn him down. Couldn’t tear his life apart again and steal away that future once more.

  Because she was in love with him.

  Properly, truly, happily-ever-after love. And she knew he’d never be able to give her that back, but maybe that was okay. Maybe one of them feeling that way was enough.

  He respected her, adored her, even wanted her still, she hoped. He was her best friend and he did love her, she knew. Just not that way.

  But love was love. And when that love offered a future, a family, happiness, she was going to take it. For herself, as much as for Ash.

  And for the baby. Because he or she was the most important thing in this whole situation now. And she knew that being with Ash would be the best outcome for their child, by far.

  ‘Want to see your room?’ Ash’s head popped back into the room from the hallway, and Zoey pasted on a smile.

  ‘Definitely.’

  As she followed him down past the main bathroom, she realised suddenly that there were three bedrooms down there.

  ‘Mine’s the one at the end,’ Ash said, waving a hand. ‘And I’ve put your stuff in here, if that’s okay?’

  Zoey nodded. But she was still looking at the third door, slightly ajar. ‘What’s in there?’

  Was Ash blushing? ‘Oh, well, I didn’t want to do too much—I was pretty sure you’d have opinions on design and furniture and stuff. But...’ He pushed the door fully open, and Zoey smiled.

  The room was bright and sunny, obviously recently repainted in a warm and welcoming yellow. A silver-grey carpet had been put down over the hard white concrete floor. And hanging from the ceiling was a mobile, tiny planets and moons dangling from invisible strings.

  ‘We can change any of it you want,’ Ash said nervously. ‘I just thought it would be good to have some things in place to start.’

  He’d built the baby a nursery. Never mind her room, this was what she’d needed to see to be sure.

  She flung her arms around him and hugged him tight. ‘Thank you.’

  ‘Anything for you,’ he murmured into her hair. ‘And the baby.’

  And suddenly Zoey was sure that she wasn’t making a mistake at all.

  Everything was going to work out just right.

  * * *

  Ash stirred the pot on the hob and tried to remember if he’d ever actually cooked here before—something more than reheating last night’s takeaway. Possibly not.

  But now Zoey was here, everything was different. And she’d wanted Italian chicken, just like the one they’d eaten in a restaurant round the corner last week. Figuring that home-cooked food had to be good
for the baby—even if it was cooked by him—Ash had finagled the recipe from the chef and was attempting to recreate it for her.

  In the two weeks since she’d moved in, Ash’s whole world seemed to have changed. It wasn’t just the splashes of colour that filled his flat these days—a bright pink scarf left draped over the back of a chair, or a royal purple cardigan hung on the back of the door, or even the scent of Zoey’s lavender perfume, lingering in a room after she’d gone to bed. It was the whole feel of the place. Hearing her humming to herself as she made them coffee in the morning—decaf for her, full strength for him—or watching her, feet kicked up under her on the sofa, as she leafed through an art catalogue she’d brought home from work. Suddenly, with the addition of an extra person in his life—two, if you counted the baby, and he did—his functional apartment felt like a home.

  Yes, Ash was pretty sure that asking Zoey to marry him was the best thing he’d done in years.

  Except they hadn’t really moved on any further than agreeing to get married in the first place. Oh, he’d bought her a ring—a vintage sapphire and diamond ring, set in white gold, that he’d spotted in an antique shop on his way home one night and just known, without any hesitation at all, was meant to be on Zoey’s finger. From the way her face had lit up as he’d presented it to her over Chinese takeaway that night, he’d been right.

  But that was as far as they’d got. And time was moving on. If they wanted to get married before the baby came, they’d needed to get moving. Venues were probably already booked up, and dresses took forever to alter, he seemed to remember. Zoey would know what they needed to do. She was the wedding expert, after all—not that he planned to mention that to her.

  Putting the lid on the pot to let the chicken simmer in the sauce, he crossed over to perch on the arm of the sofa Zoey was sitting on.

  ‘Hey,’ he said softly, drawing her attention away from the catalogue. ‘I was thinking. We should start making plans—for the wedding, I mean.’

  She gave a small shrug and smiled at him. ‘I guess. I figured we’d just see what dates the registry office had free and go with that?’