All I needed was a flash of his dimples. If I could just have a moment with my light-hearted, goofy Zach, everything would have been okay.

But he didn’t give me that. Even his voice turned gruff.

What was wrong with him?

And if he was already in a bad mood, what would a pregnancy do to him?

I crossed my arms, inadvertently hiding my tummy from him, like now that I discovered the baby I’d suddenly balloon to the size of a watermelon. As far as I knew, women didn’t do that.

I hoped.

“Wait,” I said. Zach hesitated before heading upstairs. “I…I have something to tell you.”

“Can it wait?”

He bit the words. I frowned. What a way to welcome a child into the world. Hey, I’m pregnant, with a resounding response of Fuck. No one deserved that, even a little peanut sized surprise that complicated everything.

He’d said he wanted a chance, just a shot to be with me. And he promised what I felt for him was a good thing and not the mistake of my lifetime.

Or worse—a mistake of the baby’s lifetime.

“I would really like to talk to you now,” I said.

Zach rubbed his face, tugging his hand over the blonde scruff on his chin. “What is it?”

He did not need to take an attitude with me. I snorted. I wasn’t about to shout I was pregnant at him in the same tone I’d yell for him to pick up his laundry. We lived in a mansion for Christ’s sake. The money to our name almost required us discussing a child over a candlelit dinner of lobster and caviar while we thought of names like Chet and Muffy.

My heart fluttered. I could blame Zach’s miserable mood all I wanted.

But it wasn’t him. It was me.

I chickened out.

“I…” The words stuck. I gave up. “I talked with my attorney and investment partners. I can get the trust released to me early if you agree to change the terms.”

“You had to ask me that?”

“You’re named in the will, so…yep.”

“Whatever you need, you got it.”

Zach rubbed his temple and turned toward the stairs. That was it? No jokes? No smiles?

My stomach flipped again, but it wasn’t the baby. I didn’t want him to go. I sucked in a breath.

“I think it’s a good idea.” I spoke just to gain his attention, trying to work up the courage to brave the real conversation. “I’ll get my program up and running. Meet with some potential groups to invest. You know, to spend some of this money.”

He frowned. “Most people would kill for your money.”

“That’s why it doesn’t feel right taking it.”

“Why?” His voice sharpened. I didn’t appreciate the tone, and it didn’t help me build up the courage to consider mentioning the baby.

“I just stumbled into this fortune. My father was a complete stranger to me.” I stuttered over the word father. Zach didn’t notice. “I wasn’t a daughter to him, I was an afterthought. He chose a life apart from me.”

“And you think that’s actually how it went down?”

I bristled. “I was there.”

“You didn’t give him enough credit.”

“What the hell would you know about it?” The last thing I wanted was to protect the jackass who walked out on me and Momma. It still hurt my heart to remember, and it destroyed me to imagine it happening again.

“Forget it.”

Hell no. Not with that attitude. I hardened my words.

“My father didn’t want me,” I said. “He didn’t love me. So excuse me if this feels weird. For all I know, he never meant for me to have the money at all. Maybe I was an afterthought, or some place to stick his fortune so it wouldn’t turn over to the state.”

“Oh Christ.”

I didn’t let him finish. “So yes. I feel like I’m taking a stranger’s money only because he couldn’t haul it with him to the afterlife. It doesn’t sit well on my conscience…unlike other people I know.”

Zach’s jaw tightened. “Here we go. Having the same goddamned fight every fucking week.”

“You asked!”

He nodded. “And it was stupid. I already knew you’d use it as a wedge between us.”

“I’m not wedging!”

“You’ve used any excuse you could to pull away from me.”

I swallowed. I so wasn’t ready to talk about it. “Look, I can’t…I need some time. I can’t talk about us now.”

“Why not?” He stood in front of me. “Let’s just do it. Get it all out in the open.”

Did he want me to throw up on his shoes? Cause I’d do it. Nothing about his anger set right with me. I wasn’t ready to confront any of this yet. Not the money, not his leaving, not a pregnancy.

“Zach, please.”

“What are you so afraid of?”

Everything. “Don’t ask me that.”

“How can I fix it if I don’t know what it is?”

Why did he start now? I stared at him, holding a hard gaze I didn’t recognize. God, he was handsome. Strong. He had a smile that’d charm my pants off and a mischievous side that’d steal my panties. But it wasn’t enough. It’d never be enough. Not when I knew what would happen the instant I let myself feel everything for him.

When I finally let myself love him.

“You’re a SEAL,” I said. “A soldier. Can you fix that? Can you look me in the eyes and tell me you’re going to stay here, with me, without having to leave for six months to put your life in danger?”

“It’s a job, Shay.”

“You asked!” I said. “And that’s my answer. I was abandoned once before, and it felt like shit. I’m won’t put myself through it again.”

“You weren’t abandoned!”

“Then what would you call it?”

Zach grunted. He motioned for me to stay put, an order I immediately ignored. I marched to the library before my stomach flipped again. Zach stormed through the doors, holding an old shoebox. He rattled the contents with a frown.

“You really think you were abandoned?” He thrust the box at my chest. “Here. Take it.”

The box was beat up and yellowed. I knocked the lid off with a cautious finger. Bundles of pictures rested inside—a scrapbook without the book or organization or artistic talent. Each photo was meticulously labeled and dated with a little thought about the moment.

My father’s handwriting.

On pictures of me.

I recognized the curly haired demon in a pink frilly bathing suit playing in a sprinkler. My dad scribbled on the back. Shay—four years old—loving the water! I swallowed. The lump in my throat kept the nausea down. Another picture—little me in a tiny yellow graduation gown. Shay—five years old—kindergarten graduation, next step Law School!

Zach scowled. “I found those in the study. Your father put them in the fireproof cabinet so nothing would happen to them.”

The packages of pictures dwindled the older I became. The most recent one rested on top of the pile. I trembled as I held it, like it weighed heavier than the others. I recognized my high school graduation picture, but the message meant more than the diploma in my hand.

Shay—high school graduation—wish I could tell her she gets more beautiful every day.

“He never abandoned you,” Zach said. “Did you see the room he designed for you here? The only reason I took the damn master bedroom was because I thought you’d like that one. Hell, he even built you a balcony and planted your favorite flowers in the garden beneath it. He wanted you here.”

My voice weakened. “But I didn’t want balconies and flowers. I wanted my father.”

“And he wanted you. The first time I met him? He took me and my mother out for dinner. He wouldn’t stop talking about you, Shay. Not for a minute. He was so proud of you.”

“Why didn’t you tell me before?”

“Would you have believed me? Would it have mattered? Just because he wasn’t around didn’t mean he didn’t love you. It meant you didn’t let him love you.” He swore. “And you’re doing it again with me.”

“I’m not.”

“Bullshit,” he said. “Fuck, Shay. I’m crazy about you. Give me a sign I’m not wasting my time chasing after you.”