The Trouble With Him: A Secret Pregnancy Romance (The Forbidden Love Series Book 3)

by Kat T. Masen

  Will is sitting behind his desk, dressed in a pale blue business shirt and dark pants. He mentioned yesterday afternoon he had an important video conference early today, which explains why he is dressed in business attire on a Saturday morning.

  I don’t say a word, moving closer to him. My hands reach out without a second thought, grazing his cheek with my palm. He releases a sigh, resting his face in my hand.

  “You will never lose me,” I tell him faintly. “Impossible.”

  “Amelia, I meant what I said last night. You need to stop blaming yourself.” His voice is low but etched in pain. “Our time will come when it comes.”

  I nod. “I know, but this just hurts.”

  Will motions for me to sit on his lap. With his arms around me, I bury myself in the crook of his neck and inhale his scent.

  “Don’t think for one second I don’t feel what you feel. As for Ava, I don’t understand what she was thinking.”

  “Me neither.” I sigh dejectedly. “But for now, I don’t want to know. I just don’t want us to fall apart over something she has done.”

  Will grazes my bottom lip with his thumb. My chest begins to hitch, the simple touch evoking so many emotions from me.

  He shifts my hips, so I’m straddling him. My hands wrap around his neck as I kiss him deeply. A soft moan escapes me when I taste him on my lips.

  “I missed sleeping next to you last night,” he murmurs. “The spare room is torture.”

  I laugh softly. “I bet you that’s not all you missed.”

  Will’s eyes tease me as he smirks while sliding his hands beneath my dress, then behind me to cup my ass.

  “You know me too well, Mrs. Romano.”

  And with his mouth on mine, the passion between us ignites. Just two people—husband and wife—finding their way back to each other.

  But despite his feverish kisses consuming my thoughts, a part of me knows this isn’t over.

  For the rest of our lives, Austin will be a part of our family.

  Nothing will change that.

  And I can’t help but worry that the storm is far from passing.

  Not when the hurricane looms on the horizon, threatening to destroy everything we’ve fought so hard to build together.

  Fourteen

  Ava

  After a disastrous night at my parents’ house, I want nothing more than to flee back to Manhattan.

  The following day, I wake up with what feels like a cold of some sort. My body aches, and my legs and arms are painfully sore. A lingering headache onset a wave of nausea, forcing me to rush to the bathroom repeatedly.

  Mom begins to worry, rushing to my aid with medication safe to take during pregnancy and plain toast for me to try to eat. I manage to take a few bites, but it proves to be exhausting, and my eyelids barely stay open.

  When I awake again, Mom is still on the bed beside me. When my eyes fall upon her, I hear another sound and slowly turn to see Dad on the other side. He moves closer to me, then places his palm on my forehead as he examines me with a worried expression.

  It isn’t unusual for Dad to worry about our health, and given he studied medicine though never followed it through, he has enough knowledge to diagnose certain ailments.

  “How are you feeling?” he asks, sitting beside me and next to Mom.

  “Tired,” I yawn, then my stomach grumbles. “Hungry.”

  Mom rubs my hand with a hopeful gaze. “How about some soup?”

  I nod with a smile. “Sounds good, Mom.”

  There’s a struggle to sit up, but I manage to do so as Mom leaves the room to fetch the soup. Then, with my father beside me, I glance at him, looking for answers.

  “What’s wrong with me? I’m not losing the baby, am I?”

  “Ava, no,” he reassures me. “You’re under a lot of stress and very run down. It makes you more susceptible to the common cold.”

  “Dealing with this privately has been difficult. Having to admit firstly to myself that this was happening, to having to tell Austin. Then coming here to tell you and Mom, and of course…” I trail off, unable to say her name.

  Dad tips his head back, staring at the ceiling. I know this isn’t easy for him, and I hate myself for putting him through this. “Dad, I’m s—”

  “No, Ava. Don’t apologize. You have nothing to be sorry about. There is a baby inside of you, a human being who will grace us with his or her presence in a few short months. I know the circumstances are far from ideal, but I cannot stress enough that I need you to take care of yourself and this baby. You understand me?”

  I answer with a slight nod.

  Mom returns with soup, water, and some crackers. We talk with Dad for a short while in which I tell them my desire to go back home tomorrow, mainly because I need to work. They keep their opinions at bay, but I can see the worry over my well-being in their expressions.

  “Ava, have you considered moving back to LA?” Dad asks, then continues, “It would make sense to have us close to you to help with the baby.”

  “Honestly, Dad? It crossed my mind for a fleeting moment. But my life is in Manhattan, and so is Austin.”

  Mom is unusually quiet, not putting her two cents in. When it comes to babies, she has baby fever. I’m surprised she isn’t agreeing with Dad and making it heard.

  “Well, if you must fly out tomorrow, I insist you take the private jet.”

  I smile, relaxing my shoulders. “If you insist, Father.”

  My parents leave me to get some rest, noting I look and sound better. I still don’t want to get out of bed, so I grab my phone and text Austin.

  Me: It went as expected with my parents. As for Millie, let’s say she is not talking to me.

  Austin: Talk about timing. I just finished my shift. That bad?

  Me: That bad. I’m pretty sure somewhere during her raging fit, she called me a whore.

  Austin: You’re not a whore, Ava.

  Me: Right? Because a whore sleeps around, and the last time I checked, I’ve been revirginized.

  Austin: I heard that’s called cobwebs.

  Me: Have you been hanging out with Eric?

  Austin: Oh, yeah, maybe that’s where I heard it from. It’s been years since I saw him last, but some things stick.

  Me: That’s Eric. Anyways, I’m flying back tomorrow.

  Austin: Take it easy and keep our baby safe.

  My head falls back against the pillow with Austin’s words echoing around me. How can something so simple, and possibly innocent, evoke so much emotion from me. It’s easy to blame the pregnancy hormones because everything I do or think is the opposite of what I usually feel in certain situations.

  As I continue to sit here, contemplating a text to acknowledge what he said, it becomes clear that my desire to go back home is not just about work.

  And then, Millie’s voice plays on repeat.

  I’m second best, picking up her so-called scraps, as she so bluntly implied.

  What hurts the most is she couldn’t be further from the truth. I was there for her entire relationship with Austin, and what they had was different. Of course, it’s nothing like what she has with Will, but I guess none of it matters if she can’t forgive me.

  And what Austin and I have is very different.

  We are going to have a bond for the rest of our life.

  Inside my office, Eric is sitting across from me. It’s the first time we’ve been able to catch up since Eric was held up in Chicago for meetings the last week.

  Being back in Manhattan is a relief, a part of me feeling somewhat normal again. The cold I’d caught back in LA was a twenty-four hour thing, and by the next day, I was perfectly fine to travel back home.

  “And then what happened?”

  “She flat out called me a whore, or close to it.”

  Eric cringes, throwing his hand to his neck. “If I could pitch your family to the E network, I’d be a millionaire.”

  “You are a millionaire, Eric,” I point out, with a faint e
ye roll. “Didn’t your grandmother leave her estate to you?”

  “Perhaps.” Eric shrugs, then focuses his attention back onto me. “My point is, this drama is next-level crazy. I literally have no words.”

  “Good, because I’m done talking about it.”

  “I’m not done,” Eric counters.

  “What else is there to say?” I ask with exasperation. “It’s been a week. She has nothing to say to me. In fact, she even blocked me on social media.”

  Eric’s eyes widen in visible shock. “A block on social media is a powerful statement.”

  “Yeah, the statement being she hates me.”

  “She doesn’t hate you, darling Ava. No one can hate you.”

  I let out a long-winded sigh, so over worrying about this. I can apologize a thousand times, but nothing will change the outcome. Unless, of course, I attempt through Will.

  “Can we get back to work? I only have four months before I’m supposed to slow down before the baby comes. That’s not a long time, not when we have to finalize the new lines, and look at a space to buy to manufacture. And who will feature in photos for our social media content when I’m too big?”

  Eric leans over and places his hand on mine. “Breathe, Ava, just breathe. That’s why I’m here.”

  “You’re my publicist,” I remind him with a soft smile. “Your job is to make me look good, not source real estate for me.”

  “I know, but I’m a man of many talents. Once, I picked up an orange with my butt cheeks and held it for a solid minute.”

  I shake my head, then burst out in laughter. “I want to ask, but at the same time, I think some things are best left as a mystery.”

  My phone pings with a text from Dad.

  Dad: Your mother and I will be in Manhattan in two weeks. Please organize a dinner with Austin in attendance.

  “Fuck,” I voice loudly, then show Eric the text.

  Eric covers his face then lets out a groan. “It’s just one shitshow after another.”

  “It’ll be fine,” I tell myself, then exhale. “Austin has done this before with my parents.”

  Then, the realization of Austin’s ties with my family again reminds me that I am second best. Millie is right. I’m walking in her shadows. Suddenly, a burning sensation inside my chest makes me question my entire life.

  And this only leads to one thing—anger.

  “Yes, he has. He’s even asked Lex for his daughter’s hand in marriage,” Eric carelessly reminds me.

  The muscles on my face tighten as I adopt a sullen look.

  “Right? Austin has done this all before. Lucky him,” I sneer.

  My anger shifts toward Austin now, the blame game very real in my head.

  “C’mon, Ava.” Eric laughs softly. “Even you must admit this situation looks, how shall I say it, contrived.”

  My chest thrusts out, but I try to control my breathing and not tear Eric apart as the anger festers within me.

  “Have you thought about how we should tell people? I can’t hide this anymore, Eric.”

  “The issue is not your bump. It’s who stuck their weenie in you and made that bump happen.”

  I throw my hands in the air. “I can’t win!”

  “Ava, sweetheart, calm down.”

  “No, Eric. I am the one who’s labeled a whore. I’m the one who is supposedly after my sister’s scraps. I’m the one who will always be second best!”

  “Nobody is saying that,” he assures me.

  “But everyone is thinking it?” I snap, my eyes wide while waiting for Eric to argue my point. When he chooses to remain quiet, I laugh faintly. “That’s right. Ava is the evil sister.”

  “What the hell is happening here? I’ve heard of hormones, but Jesus Christ, Ava. You’re giving me heart palpitations.”

  I stand up, then grab my purse, unable to look Eric in the face.

  “I’m going home,” I inform him with a low voice. “I honestly don’t care how you announce it. Either way, I’m to blame.”

  With my head fallen, I leave my office with the intent of going home, but during my walk, the anger only intensifies, and there is only one person with a target straight in the middle of their chest.

  “Ava?” Austin calls upon opening the door to my loud knock. “What are you doing here?”

  He is dressed in jeans and a nice shirt, with hair styled in casual disarray. The scent of his aftershave lingers, and he seems to be freshly showered like he is going out on a date.

  “Are you going out on a date?” I blurt out.

  Austin tilts his head. “No, I am going out with some friends.”

  “Girlfriends?”

  “Yes, there are women in my group of friends.”

  My lips press flat, the jealousy consuming my rational thoughts. “Will Lane be there?”

  Austin’s head flinches back slightly. “What the hell is going on?”

  “You’re not answering me.”

  “Because you’re not explaining why you’ve shown up, unannounced, and are questioning me on my whereabouts or who I will hang out with?”

  My pulse quickens as my muscles begin to quiver. Austin standing there, ready to go out with God knows who, reiterates how his life has not changed at all. I’m the one who has paid the price for our indiscretion and will continue to do so for the rest of my life.

  His family was excited to learn of the baby, according to him. Mine is at war with me, at least—Millie is. Austin can continue his career, his dating, and all the things he does without having to carry a baby.

  And he doesn’t have to give birth in a few short months.

  “You know what? I can’t even speak to you.”

  As I turn away, Austin grabs my arm to stop me. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

  Lowering my eyes, I gaze at the concrete floor. “You’ve got it easy. You’re not the villain. It’s me. I’m the one who must suffer for my mistakes.”

  Austin lets out a sigh, and just as he’s about to open his mouth, my phone beeps with a text message. I pull it out of my pocket to glance at it.

  Eric: Too late, TMZ just posted this article. Sorry honey. Call me when you’re ready to talk.

  I click on the link, and there is the headline—Influencer and Daughter of Lex Edwards Pregnant with an Unknown Man.

  The article is three paragraphs about me being pregnant, my father’s reaction, and how my family has shunned me. According to them, Lex Edwards has completely cut me off. Then, in paragraph two, it says, Ava is known to frequent the party scene, so we’re not surprised this has happened given her long list of lovers.

  Along with the article are several photos of me. The angles they photographed me make me look pregnant, or I’ve purposely concealed my stomach with a bag, making it look more pronounced.

  My body collapses in on itself as my chest begins to hitch. Then, without a single word, I hand Austin the phone for him to read. Moments later, he releases a sigh, only for my phone to ping again.

  “There’s a message on your screen from Millie,” he warns me softly.

  I swallow the lump inside my throat. “What does it say?”

  Austin’s hesitation is enough for me to figure out it isn’t pleasant, nor an ‘I’m sorry’.

  “Ava, look—”

  “Just tell me!”

  He doesn’t tell me. Instead, he hands the phone back.

  Millie: It’s only a matter of time until TMZ finds out who the father is, and you’ve destroyed us all. Thanks again, sis.

  My arms fall to my sides, causing the phone to almost slip out of my hand. The pain inside my chest and throat makes it difficult even to think or move. I’m humiliated, and soon everyone will know the truth. No matter what I say or do, they’ll judge me on my actions, and I will forever be labeled a whore.

  “Ava, come in, please.”

  I shake my head. “I want to be alone.”

  “Okay, but I’m always here if you need me. You know that, right?”

  I kn
ew that. Just like I know Austin will never understand what it’s like to walk a mile in my shoes.

  Without another word, I walk away.

  It’s easier than trying to explain to him why my life has fallen apart.

  How even with a life jacket of him wanting to support me and be part of this child’s life…

  I am forever drowning.

  Fifteen

  Ava

  The moment my pregnancy leaks, the media outlets hound me relentlessly.

  I’m forced to stay home for two weeks as Eric deals with the media storm. Of course, the biggest question on everyone’s mind is the father, and the lengths reporters go to is downright disgusting.

  It’s expected of Olivier to be presumed the father. But that isn’t enough for them, and speculations include a list of men I’ve never even met.

  Once again, I’m labeled the party girl who enjoys her men. They couldn’t be further from the truth.

  My parents worry over my well-being, insisting I fly home and stay with them until things settle. Both of them, more notably my father, have had their share of media scrutiny. I recall being in middle school when curiosity got the better of me, and I googled our family. At the time, Millie wanted no part of my nosy findings, preferring to keep the perfect image of our family in her head exactly that—perfect.

  Not me, though. I read article after article, fascinated with the media’s depiction of my parents’ marriage. So it didn’t surprise me that Dad was always dragged into some cheating scandal. Though from memory, there was one story about Mom having an affair with our pool boy. That was funny because we didn’t have a pool boy. Our gardener, John, was like sixty at the time and happily married. He occasionally cleaned the pool, but Dad had one of those expensive cleaning systems which cleaned it automatically.