Breathe in. Breathe through. Breathe deep. Then out.

The shrill sound of the three-minute timer on my phone shakes me to my core.

I can’t decide if I’m queasy because I’ve felt nauseous every single day for the past several weeks, or if it’s from the uncertainty of the stick of plastic resting on the edge of the bathroom sink.

I didn’t set out to spend my day like this, but the signs were too great to ignore. So, when Holt told me he had to run out for an emergency work meeting, I took the opportunity.

I feel like I’m standing on the edge of a precipice or, fuck, even a fork in the road. Which direction will my life take me?

It all feels dramatic and life altering. Like at any moment, my life is going to implode.

Even after the timer goes off, I don’t pick up the white plastic stick.

I’m terrified of the answer—an answer I’m already certain I know. It feels as if there’s a taut string pulling me on the inside of my stomach. I gently place my hand over it and think about my mother.

It’s hard to think of her as she was before the last time I saw her. The fear in her eyes. The love she had for me. Something in her gaze told me she knew it was the last time she’d be looking at me, too.

I chew on the inside of my cheek.

Falling in love with Holt wasn’t expected. I did everything I could to prevent this from happening, to avoid falling into the same trap my mother had, where she believed my father would love her to the ends of the earth. I guess, in a way, he did. He couldn’t allow her to live her life in this world, and he couldn’t live in one where she didn’t exist, either.

Love can be volatile, and it can’t be trusted.

I want to believe every word Holt has told me over these past months. I want to believe he’s pined after me, secretly yearning in the shadows. But isn’t that what my mother believed?

Closing my eyes, I picture Holt. I imagine the way he looked at me this morning before he walked out the door. His gentle touch. His starving kiss. The love in his rich, blue eyes. He was looking at me as if I was the most precious person in the world. Will he do the same if the answer on the stick is yes?

For years, Holt has been a chronic bachelor, moving from one woman to the next, never sticking with one long enough to allow anyone to draw the conclusion he was in a long-term relationship. I think back to the last girl he’d been seen dating. They were together the same amount of time him and I have been together now.

Is Holt capable of commitment?

I pick up my phone to text my sister but quickly put it back down. I want to talk to her. I want to tell her about my hesitation in my career, my blossoming love for Holt, my fear that it will all slip away. I’m afraid the rug is going to get pulled out from under me at any moment. I want to tell her all these things, but I can’t. This is between me and the piece of plastic sitting on the counter.

With sweaty palms and shaking fingers, I reach out for the stick.

I hold my breath until my lungs burn, then turn it over.

The plus sign fades, blurring with my tears. My heart swells then contracts. I feel like it’s going to explode. I clamp my hand over my mouth and stifle my cries. Holt’s penthouse is filled with his staff: housekeepers, chefs, security. Every single one would come racing in here if they heard me crying. I swiftly shut the bathroom door and press my back against it. Then I sink to the floor.

Placing my hand gently on my stomach again, I take a deep breath. Years of therapy have taught me to think analytically when it comes to overwhelming situations. I try to think logically, making a point to remember the things I know as fact.

I have blonde hair.

I love yoga.

I’m a strong woman.

I’m healthy.

I’m capable.

I’m in love with Holt Capuleti.

I snap my eyes open as soon as the last thought registers in my mind. The truth rests there, as positive as the test I have clenched in my hand.

Instinct tells me the uncertainty of Holt’s reaction is inevitable. Normally, I would run, end things as soon as possible. I would let him go the same way I let Adam go. I would spend the rest of my life alone, because being alone is safer than sharing your life with someone. But if the feelings I have for Holt have taught me anything, it’s life and love don’t come without risk.

Loving Holt, like death, is an inevitable fact—one I can’t escape.

I rise from the bathroom floor and wrap my hand around the pregnancy test before slipping it into my pocket. After a quick look in the mirror, I swipe my fingers under my eyes, then step out of the bathroom.

Two hours later, I’m shoving the same bit of scrambled egg and microgreens across my plate for the thousandth time. I’ve played out every possible scenario in my head, but the one that sticks out the most is imagining what Holt’s reaction will be when he walks through the door.

I picture him wrapping his arms around me, telling me he’s all in. But just when I’m convinced that’ll be his reaction, I imagine another scenario that involves him backing away, telling me this isn’t what he signed up for. Holt is an ambitious man, focused on his career and finding his mother’s murderer. Not raising a child.

Then I think about what he told me the night I poured my heart out to him. The way he wrapped me up in his arms, promising over and over again how much he’s in love with me.

I glance up at the clock, wondering when the moment will come.

I won’t deny, fear has set in. Fear of losing everything I’ve gained over these past few months.

But he needs to know the truth, regardless of the outcome.

My breath catches in the back of my throat the second I hear the door open.

“Wallflower?” he announces from the end of the hallway.

My pulse races, and I inhale a deep breath, lifting my shoulders and wringing my fingers in my lap.

“In the kitchen!” I yell back, trying not to let my voice break.

“Hey,” he sighs, a smile stretched across his mouth. It reaches his eyes, lighting him up. “You won’t believe what I’m going to tell you.” He crosses the room and moves around the kitchen island. Gripping the back of my head, he tilts me up until my lips meet his. He sinks into it, using every ounce of energy to hold me close.

I grip his suit jacket, moaning against his mouth. He’s warmth and comfort, soothing the worried parts of my mind and soul.

I’m full of nervous energy, unable to quiet it.

“Holt,” I pull away. “I need to⁠—”

“Hang on, Wallflower,” he cuts in. He’s practically bouncing with excitement. I can tell something has happened. He rakes his hand through his hair, revealing his gleaming eyes. “Rome dropped the lawsuit.”

“What?” I sit up out of my chair, and Holt sweeps me into his arms, then spins me around in a circle.

“Yeah,” he laughs, gently placing me back down.

I’m dizzy and feel like vomiting, but his mood is contagious. Despite my inner struggle to come to terms with what I need to tell him, I’m now fully focused on Holt’s news.

“H-How?” I stammer. “Why?”

“His lawyers sent word to mine this morning. They didn’t give a reason, but I think it must be because of what we overheard the other night at the masquerade ball. Julianna asked him to drop it, and he must have done it for her.”

I jerk my head back.

“What?” Holt asks, his eyebrows tugging together in concern. “This is a good thing, right?”

“No, of course, it is.” I take a deep breath and look up at him. I softly chuckle. “I just don’t know how much of this he did for Julianna. I can’t imagine Rome wanting to do anything for her.”

“You’re right.” Holt gives me a soft smile. “I don’t know his reason, but I guess it doesn’t matter. This gives me a chance to focus back on work and, maybe down the line, I can figure out who he was talking to that night. But as far as my reputation, my team assured me it’s all taken care of now. My PR is managing the media coverage. It’ll probably be in the cycle for a little while, but once the dust settles on that, we’re in the clear.”

“That’s amazing.” I grin, watching the stress melt away from his body. He’s almost back to the man I knew before he was slapped with this lawsuit.

“I’m considering asking Rome who he was talking to the night of the masquerade ball.”

My stomach turns. I understand Holt’s drive, but I also hate the idea of him getting involved in something dangerous. Something tells me the man he saw talking to Rome won’t be considered a friend.

“I just want you to be careful, Holt. If that man is connected to your mother’s killer, are you thinking Rome is somehow connected, too?”

Holt pauses, considering my question. It’s been one that’s weighed on me ever since that night.

“No.” Holt shakes his head. “Rome didn’t look entirely friendly with him, and despite the hatred our families have toward one another, I don’t think Rome is capable of murder. I’m not sure how much he knows, though. I’m hoping he can give me something to go on.”

I nod as an icy chill slinks its way down the length of my spine. I shake it off and focus on the news I’m keeping locked inside me. “I don’t think someone who has knowledge or had anything to do with your mother’s death would drop the lawsuit the way Rome has.”

“Point well made.” Holt gives me a large grin, agreeing.

“I’m thankful he dropped the lawsuit.” I wrap my arms around his waist and squeeze, holding him impossibly close.

“Same, Wallflower.” He tilts his face down to kiss me, then he starts to sway me back and forth, almost as if we’re dancing. My hair dances across my back with how high my chin is lifted to stare into his eyes. His smile hasn’t wavered.

“Does this mean our fake dating agreement is over?” I tease, scrunching my nose.

Holt abruptly stops dancing. His hand rests on my lower back while his other wraps around the side of my face. His thumb rests under my chin, keeping me looking up into his blue eyes. He makes sure I’m reading his thoughts loud and clear, leaving no room for any confusion.

“I thought I made that clear that night at your apartment. Our fake dating agreement was never real. You know that, right?”

I swallow the lump in my throat.

“I love you, Selene,” he says, with more conviction than I’ve ever heard him speak before. “I’ve been obsessed with you for years. I’m at your mercy, and yours alone. You’re the only one who has the ability to destroy me. You’re also the only one I will ever love. None of this was ever fake.”

Tears sting the backs of my eyes. I repeat Holt’s words in my head, knowing he means them, because this isn’t the first time I’ve heard them. Just when I think he’s going to change his mind or take back what he says, he proves me wrong.

But that still doesn’t take away the fear of what I need to tell him.

My lips part as I inhale a shaky breath.

Holt’s expression shifts. His brows pull together, and three creases form between his eyes. His mouth turns into a frown, and he pulls back slightly.

“You have something to tell me.”

His eyes drop to my mouth—a clear tell he knows I’m keeping a secret from him.

I must have done that fucking thing with my mouth again.

Shit.

I loosen my arms around Holt’s waist and roll back onto my heels, heat blooming in my cheeks. My cold feet press into the cold tile, and I close my eyes.

“Tell me, Wallflower.”

I’m dizzy, sick with fear. I picture my mother. My father. Then my grandmother. I cling to her memory and what she always used to tell me.

Nothing worthwhile doesn’t come without risk.

I open my eyes and find Holt still looking down at me with concern.

“I, um,” I whisper shakily. A tear slips from my eye, dripping down over my upper lip. “I’m pregnant.”

Two words.

Two words that change everything.

I hold my breath, waiting for Holt’s reaction.

His face pales, and his hand falls from my face. I miss his touch the second it’s gone. I didn’t realize how tightly I was clinging onto it, using it to keep my head above water.

“You’re pregnant?” He gasps, clamping his mouth shut. He swallows, then shifts his gaze over my shoulder, looking vacantly off in the distance.

“Yes,” I mutter, unable to bring my breath above a whisper. I stare at his chest, focusing on the intricate detail of his black silk tie. “I took a test earlier. I’ve been sick practically every day for the past several weeks and I couldn’t understand why. At first, I thought it was this meal or that meal, but then it started to happen every time I went to eat. Then I couldn’t hold the champagne down at the masquerade ball. I took the test, and the pink plus sign was unmistakable. I mean, you didn’t ask for this, so I understand if you don’t⁠—”

My rambling is abruptly cut off by Holt’s mouth.

He steals my breath, crashing his lips to mine. He pours everything into our kiss, and I can’t help the sob that escapes the corners of my mouth.

He grips the back of my head and pulls away long enough to look into my eyes. “Whatever you were about to let spill from that pretty mouth, don’t.” He searches my face, clearly still letting the news of my pregnancy sinking in. “You’re pregnant?”

I gently nod.

“You’re going to have my baby?” His blue eyes widen as the hand he has wrapped around my back moves to my front. He gently runs the back of it over my stomach.

“I am.” My voice cracks. “And I’m sorry, Holt.”

“Why? I’m not.”

I blink. “We should have been more careful, and I don’t want you thinking…”

“Are you kidding me?” He beams, the smile he walked in with returns. It reaches his eyes. “If there’s anything I wanted more than you in this life, it was to build a life with you. That includes all of it: marriage, babies, old age. Whatever you can give me, I’ll take. As long as it’s with you, I want it.”

I let his words sink in. He’s happy. He isn’t running. He isn’t giving up.

He must read my thoughts because he falls to his knees in front of me. Tears stream down my cheeks as his hands slide across my hips. I reach down and run my fingers through his brown hair. Will our baby have his brown hair, or will they have my blonde? My mother’s, too?

My stomach flutters at the thought.

Tears coat his dark lashes as he lifts the bottom of my small cotton tank to reveal my stomach. He stares at my stomach in amazement. My throat swells, and it’s difficult to breathe. I’ve never had anyone look at me the way Holt does.

He presses his lips to my stomach. Then again. And again. His mouth is soft and gentle, lighting a fire inside me. A fire I’ve never felt with anyone else. Only Holt.

“If this baby is going to be anything like you, Wallflower, I’m already obsessed with them.” He plants another kiss to my stomach, then leans in to whisper against my skin. “I love you.”

“Holt,” I whisper, unable to hold back the tears.

He looks up at me as another tear slips from the corner of his eye. He’s all long lashes, sexy hair, and vulnerability. Completely at my mercy. “I love you both.”

“I love you, too.” I cup the side of his face and urge him to stand.

When he does, he hungrily takes my mouth with his. His hand slides down my back, slipping under my cotton shorts. He cups my ass cheek and squeezes the flesh, pulling me toward him.

“But I won’t lie,” I tell him. “I’m scared. What if… what if…”

There isn’t a single hint of fear or hesitation in his expression. “I know you’re scared, Selene, but I’m not your father, and you aren’t your mother.”

“What if something happens?” My voice breaks. “When it was just you and me, there was less to lose. But now?” I swallow back the tears and sniff. “With a baby… I would understand if you didn’t want this, Holt.”

My outspoken fears have wounded him, but I need him to know he has options.

“Listen to me, Selene.”

The way he’s cradling me pulls out another sob. I cry for all of him. The way he fights for me at every turn, even when I’m not fighting for myself. His love for me radiates, sinking into every fiber of my soul.

“The greatest loves don’t come without risk. But if I had to choose between living life without you both, just to be sure I’d never feel the pain of loss, then I wouldn’t want it. I don’t want it. I promised you I wasn’t going anywhere, Wallflower, and I’m not. I’d travel to the ends of the Earth for you or sell my soul to the Devil before letting you go. I have my sister and my father, but when I lost my mother, I felt my whole world shift from under my feet. I never thought I would have a chance at a life with a family of my own making. You’re that for me, Selene. I’ll spend the rest of my life proving it to you, too. To the both of you.”

I’ve lived a life with a fractured heart, and no amount of reassurance Holt tries to give me will ever erase the nagging sensation that, at some point, this all might disappear. But as he said, the greatest loves don’t come without risk.

I drape my arms around his neck and roll back onto my toes, heat spreading between my thighs. Tilting my head to the side, I drag my nose along his, feeling every bit of the promise he’s given me. “Prove it to me then.”