Waking Up Pregnant(82)

                Jeff had asked her to marry him. Offered to make her his family. To take care of her.

                He’d proven time and again, though he didn’t love her, he would treat her like a queen—even going so far as to surprise her with a castle and the crown jewels.

                He was beyond generous. Attentive. Caring.

                Beautiful in the most rugged way.

                Fun and intelligent.

                Honest.

                Strip away his wealth, and he was still everything she could want in a man. Except for the part about him not feeling quite the same way.

                There was no doubt he found her attractive or that he cared for her in a very deep, very real way. But when Jeff had gone looking for a relationship...he’d looked for someone far different from her.

                A part of her knew she was crazy to turn him down. But a greater part of her knew she couldn’t stand to live like that.

                She thought back to all the promises she’d made to herself and knew she’d broken every one...starting the night she’d gone back to Jeff’s room. She’d justified and rationalized, for the feel-good of being with a man she’d known from the start wasn’t for her. A man who’d warned her he wasn’t interested in a relationship, just a few hours of fun. And yeah, later he’d said he’d thought about wanting more. An affair maybe. But for marriage, he’d been looking to Olivia with her social connections, business acumen and impeccable pedigree.

                How could she marry a man she knew was settling for her? Making a concession.

                She couldn’t. She’d done the right thing.

                But as the next tear rolled down her cheek, she wondered how she was going to live without him...especially when circumstance assured she’d never be able to get far enough away to forget him.

                * * *

                Jeff stood at his open refrigerator, staring at the second shelf where half a yellow-box-mix cake with fudge frosting sat, abandoned.

                He’d bet money Darcy had probably come within a hair’s breadth of tears when she realized she’d left it behind. And he’d bet, that had been at about eight-fifteen the evening before.

                If he’d been home rather than working through the night at the office, he’d have noticed it there and probably done the same thing he was doing right now. Stood in front of the fridge debating whether he ought to drop it by her place for her.

                But somehow the excuse seemed thin, even to him.

                Besides if he knew Darcy at all—and despite the failure of his proposal and her subsequent exodus from his apartment as a result, he did—she’d already have taken care of whatever box mix needs she’d had on her own.

                Just the way she liked it.

                Pulling the phone from his pocket, he checked to see if she’d texted. Even set to near Richter-five vibration with a ringtone to match, it was possible he’d missed her call or text.

                Only he hadn’t.

                He opened the fridge again. Laughed a little when he noticed the suspicious marks from fork tines in the frosting—but then the sound of his laughing alone in a space that had been filled with Darcy just two days before made his chest ache and all the humor evaporated into the still silent air around him.