Her smile falters instantly, confusion flickering across her face.
I swallow hard, suddenly aware of how fast my pulse is beating. “We’re having a baby,” I say quietly, like the weight of it has only just settled properly inside me. “And we’re going to be good parents. I know we are.” I pause, my fingers still loosely wrapped around her ankle. “But together . . .” I shake my head slightly. “Together, I think we could be something amazing.”
Her expression softens for half a second before caution creeps back in.
Slowly, she slides her feet from my lap and places them on the floor. “What are you saying?”
I lean back slightly, scrubbing a hand over my jaw. It’s strange how I can negotiate million-pound deals without blinking, yet one conversation with her leaves me feeling like I’m standing on unstable ground.
“I want us to try,” I admit. The words sound rough now they’re out in the open, and I hold my breath, waiting for her to shut me down.
She turns properly towards me now, her brows pinched together. “Why?”
My throat suddenly feels too tight. “Why not?”
A quiet scoff leaves her. “That isn’t an answer, Ray.”
“This baby deserves a family,” I say, frustration bleeding into my voice. “Why are we acting like we don’t both want the same thing?”
She pushes to her feet with a small wince, then irritation flashing across her face.
“There you go again,” she says, shaking her head. “Deciding what I think. What I want.”
I stand too quickly. “I get it now.”
“Get what?”
“Earlier. Harrods.” Shame crawls low in my stomach. “I understand why you walked out.”
Her arms fold across her chest protectively. “Do you?”
“Yes.” I force myself to hold her gaze. “I should’ve included you more. You’re the baby’s mother.”
Her laugh is soft and disbelieving. “More?” she repeats. “Ray, I felt like a surrogate following you around while you picked out your perfect life.” Her words feel like a punch. “So, why did you do it?” she asks quietly.
I open my mouth, but nothing comes out. Because I don’t actually know how to explain something I’ve spent my entire life doing.
“I don’t know,” I admit eventually. Her eyes close briefly in frustration before she turns for the door. “Wait—”
She stills, her hand resting against the handle. The thought of her walking away again feels unbearable. We can’t keep doing this to each other.
“Because I’m not used to it,” I admit.
Slowly, she looks back at me.
“I do everything alone,” I continue, quieter now. “I always have.” I let out a slow breath, staring past her for a second before dragging my eyes back to hers. “I make the decisions. I fix the problems. I pay for everything. That’s just . . .” I shrug helplessly. “How I survive.”
She doesn’t interrupt, and more importantly, she doesn’t leave, so I keep going.
“When I was a kid, if I stopped paying attention for one second, everything fell apart.” My jaw tightens slightly at the memory. “And every time I trusted someone else to handle things . . .” I look down briefly, my chest feeling strangely tight. “I got hurt.”
A heavy silence follows my words. It’s heavy, choking me. I drag a hand over the back of my neck, suddenly feeling stupid for saying any of this out loud.
“So, now, I control everything before it has the chance to go wrong,” I admit quietly. “And I didn’t even realise I was shutting you out while I was doing it.” I drag my eyes back to hers again. “And I’m sorry for that,” I say quietly.
Wynter’s fingers tighten slightly around the door handle before falling away from it altogether. “You know what hurts the most?” she asks, her voice smaller now, less angry. I shake my head slowly. “That you’re nice to everyone else.” I inhale sharply, her words hurting my heart. “Even Jessica,” she continues with a soft, humourless laugh. “You’ve known her five minutes, and you’re relaxed around her. You smile at her. She makes you laugh.”
I instinctively take a step towards her, my hand almost reaching for hers before I stop myself.