Drawn to Mr. King: A steamy age gap office romance (The Men Series – Interconnected Standalone Romances Book 3)
Drawn to Mr. King: Chapter 28

“WHERE DO YOU WANT this, Meg? Or should I call you Ms Curtis now?” Lydia smirks as she carries in a box containing the contents of desk drawer number two.

“You’d better not,” I smile, “and over there, please.” I point to the top of Phil’s desk.

My desk.

“I bet it feels odd, being in here.” Lydia motions around, her eyes resting on the nameplate on the door.

Megan Curtis – Head of Design

Granted, it’s just a temporary one, as I’m not technically the Head of Design; Phil is. I’m just filling in. But after a few days working from my usual desk, HR insisted I move into the office as ‘I’ll need the space and privacy’. Then when I got here this morning, the nameplate was there.

Maybe there’s more than they’re letting on about Phil, as they sure are trying to make me comfortable.

“Maybe we should perform some kind of exorcism? You know, rid the office of any bad manager, pervy vibes.” Lydia perches her bottom on the desk, swinging her legs.

I smirk. Some things will never change.

I rummage around in my handbag. “Lyds, you haven’t seen my sketchbook, have you?”

“Which one? You’ve got tonnes?”

“My favourite one. My personal one that I carry around.”

I frown as I empty out the contents of my bag. I know it’s not in here, but I look again anyway. My hands are clammy as I wipe them on my trousers.

If anyone else sees that sketchbook… it’s like my diary, full of my hopes and dreams in various drawn states. Some are more complete than others. Most are personal ones I would not wish for anyone to see.

I groan and rub at my temples.

I walk over to the desk and begin unpacking the box, hoping to replace it. But it’s mostly business cards from clients I’ve worked with. I really should get one of those organiser things for them.

My fingers brush over the smooth, satiny surface of a small grey envelope and my breath hitches in my throat. I’d forgotten they were even in here.

With trembling fingers, I open it and pull out the cards, reading them one by one.

Try this. It might save some company property in the future. JK

Forgive me, Megan. I did not mean to cause you any upset. You have such a wonderful talent; I hope we can continue working together and maybe even be friends? JK

Saw these little rule-breakers and thought of you. Looking forward to tonight, Megan. J

What’s the saying? All good things come in threes? It makes sense. It wasn’t long after the third card that everything blew up in my face—my Jaxon King hat-trick complete.

“Oh.” Lydia’s tone is knowing as her eyes flit to the cards.

“Oh indeed,” I mutter, stuffing them back into the envelope and tossing them into the small mesh trash can next to the desk.

It hits the side with a thud and falls to the bottom, eyeing me through the gaps in the mesh.

“Congratulations, you just made your first decision as head of design,” Lydia says, before dropping her voice, “seriously, Meg, are you okay?”

I flop down into the chair behind the desk and fold my arms.

“No. But I will be. The extra money I’ll get from filling in for Phil is all going into a savings account. It’ll help during maternity. And it looks like things are back on with Rachel and her boyfriend. They managed to sort everything out. I’ve never seen her so happy.”

I smile, and my heart swells. After everything Rachel has been through in her life, she deserves happiness more than anyone I know.

“She’s said if she moves in with him, I can stay in the house, rent-free. So, it’s all looking up.”

“Yeah, that sounds great. I’m relieved for you… but how are you feeling? Has Jaxon tried to contact you at all?” Lydia looks at me with concern.

I told her, Rachel, and Abigail the entire story of what happened on Saturday at his place. About the cancer, him not wanting to be involved for fear of us losing him, like he lost his dad.

It felt good to talk about it and have their support. But then there’s this guilt from telling them something so personal of Jaxon’s. Losing his dad isn’t a secret, but I don’t know who else he’s told about the cancer. He can’t expect me to deal with this alone, though. I trust the girls, and right now, they’re the only ones who know the total story and can help me sort out the mess inside my head. Abigail said Martin knows. She got it out of him. She was right, he was lying, and it makes sense now.

He wasn’t at Jaxon’s watching sports that night we rang him. He was there to help Jaxon after his surgery.

I pinch the bridge of my nose as I lean my elbows forward onto the desk.

“Yes. He’s been texting me non-stop since Tuesday.”

“He’s been texting you for the last three days?”

I nod. “Yep. And calling. And leaving voicemails.”

“What’s he saying? How does he sound?” Lydia asks.

I shrug. “I don’t know. I haven’t answered or listened to any of them. And I haven’t opened any of his text messages either. I just need some space. He’s said what he wants to. Now I need to be left alone to hear my own thoughts for a while.”

Lydia smiles. “I can understand that.”

“Besides, if it was urgent, I’d hear through Abigail via Martin.” I chew my lip.

Lydia nods. “Yes, you would.”

“I mean… I’m sure he’s fine… he probably just wants to talk some more… try to convince me to agree with him… tell me it’s for the best again.”

I wave my hand in the air dismissively, and I feel my nose wrinkling, and I wonder how he is.

“Yeah, that’s totally it. Selfish fucktard,” Lydia mutters under her breath.

“Anyway, enough thinking about him.” I look at Lydia brightly, refocussing again. “I have unpacking to do.”

“Yes, you do!” She grins, hopping down from the desk and heading to the door. “And I’ve just remembered! I saw your sketchbook on your old desk. I’ll get it for you.”

“Ah, amazing! Thank you.” I make a prayer symbol with my hands as relief washes over me.

“I know, I’m amaz—” She stops short as she almost walks smack bang into Jaxon’s chest. “Hey, what the hell…? Oh, it’s you.”

She does nothing to hide the disgust in her voice as she looks him up and down.

I suck in a breath as my eyes roam over his dark grey suit, the one that makes his eyes smoulder with intensity and highlights the flecks of silver in his hair.

In short, the one that makes him look like sex on legs.

Why couldn’t he look like a sack of shit? The way I feel right now?

“Good morning, Lydia.” He nods politely.

She narrows her eyes at him, not interested in playing nice, but he doesn’t seem fazed. Instead, he towers in the doorway, like a brooding King, as his dark eyes come to rest on my face, making my chest feel tight.

“Meg, you want me to stay?” Lydia fixes a suspicious glare on him.

I don’t know how he can stand there and seem so calm with her shooting daggers at him.

“No, Lyds, it’s fine. Thank you.” My eyes are glued to his as we stare at each other.

There’s the slightest movement at the corners of his as he searches my gaze, searches it with so much intense emotion in his eyes. But exactly which emotion, I’m not sure.

Lydia gives Jaxon another filthy look before closing the door. She must sense this conversation calls for the door to be firmly shut, and I’m grateful to her for being discreet as she heads back into the main office buzzing with activity. The whole mood has lifted since Phil went off on forced leave.

I tilt my head as Jaxon continues to look at me and wait for him to say something.

He clears his throat as he walks toward me, and my heartbeat turns frantic in my chest as I smell his aftershave.

God, that scent. Why does he have to smell so good?

“I found this outside. It had dropped onto the floor.” He hands me my sketchbook.

I reach out to take it with shaking hands and place it on the desk as he drops his gaze away from mine finally.

My chest relaxes as I take the first proper breath I’ve had since he arrived.

I follow him with my eyes as he walks around the room, his hands in his pockets, looking at the new artwork I’ve hung. How can he look so calm after everything that’s happened between us?

But then, this is Jaxon. The king of calm and control.

“It looks great in here, Megan. It suits you. Congratulations.” He turns to face me.

The hairs on the back of my neck stand up, and heat fires in my core.

Damn him for having such an effect on me after all he’s said and done.

I stay in my chair, hoping I give off the impression that his appearance is a mere inconvenience to my day.

Rather than the real reason, which is I’m not sure my legs will hold me if I stand.

“What are you doing here, Jaxon?” I sigh, crossing my arms so he can’t see my hands shaking.

He’s staring past me at the blank wall behind my desk. I know it needs filling. I just don’t have the right piece to put there yet. Plus, it still feels odd making so many changes in here, even though HR has hinted this may become permanent. All the other pieces I’ve hung I already owned, and I’ve made use of hooks already in the walls.

Buying something new and putting it behind the desk will symbolise a whole new start.

One I know I must make… and I’m so nearly there. Just one more step, and my actions will catch up with my words.

And my heart… that will follow one day—maybe.

“You haven’t answered my calls or texts,” he states, his grey eyes moving to my face, tracing over every angle and curve as though committing it to memory.

I shiver involuntarily under his gaze.

“Why would I? You told me all I needed to know last Saturday.”

“Megan,” his brow creases as his eyes meet mine, “I need to talk to you. We need to talk. Please.”

He probably wants to discuss maintenance payments. He already told me I wouldn’t need to worry about money. But the idea of accepting it from him when he doesn’t want to be involved… I’m not sure how I feel about it yet.

“It’ll have to wait, Jaxon. I’m not ready for those conversations yet. We’ve got over six months to have them,” I say, sounding a lot stronger than I feel.

He looks at me, his jaw tense. “Megan, I don’t think you understand me, I—”

I hold up a hand. “I understand perfectly. And if you don’t mind, I’d like you to leave, please. I’m at work and seeing as we no longer work together, and we aren’t,” I swallow as I look into his eyes, “we aren’t… well, there’s no reason for you to be here.”

He looks like he’s about to say something else, but I lift my chin up and stare back at him. I keep my face devoid of emotion whilst my heart hammers so hard in my chest, I’m surprised there isn’t steam coming out my ears.

He looks at me for a long time, his eyes searching mine, before he rubs a hand over his eyes, his chest deflating.

“You’re right. I interrupted you at work, and that was rude. I’m sorry, Megan.” He walks towards the door, turning around as his hand hovers over the handle. His eyes search mine again. “Please meet with me when you’re ready.”

I give him a small nod. I can’t trust my voice not to give away the sob I’m holding in. How can he be having this effect on me? I’ve had almost a week for this to sink in, and that’s just since the cancer revelation. He’d already broken it off before then. Yet, looking at him now, his eyes full of emotion, has me reeling all over again. Tears threaten to fall at any second.

He looks at me one last time as I will him to leave inside my head.

Leave before I break.

He rolls his lips as his eyes sweep over my face one last time.

“I’ll be here when you’re ready, Megan… however long it takes, I’ll be waiting for you.”

The door closes behind him, and I slump back into my chair, the concealed sob coming out muffled as I clamp my hand over my mouth, my eyes burning with hot tears.

Who the hell does he think he is? Coming in here unannounced when he’s the one who told me it was over.

When he’s the one who tore my heart to shreds.

I lift my sketchbook, flipping open the pages. Each moment leading up to this point is in here. Pages upon pages of my heart. Drawings of Jaxon’s face after the night we met, sketches of our fingers interlocked after I stayed the night at his house. And the latest ones… drawings of the baby’s scan image. My entire soul is in the pages of this sketchbook. I can never be so careless as to leave it lying around again. Just like I cannot be careless with my heart anymore when it comes to Jaxon.

I wipe at my cheeks angrily and click the computer mouse, bringing the screen back to life.

He’s not having any more of my energy today.

I’ve got a job to do.

The weekend passes by in a blur of reading over new client briefs for the week of meetings ahead. I have so much catching-up to do if I ever want to get on top of this. Phil’s organisation skills leave a lot to be desired, and it’s a struggle just to keep my head above water with the state things have been left in.

Lydia is waiting for me in my office as I walk in on Monday morning.

“I think maybe a little higher. Oh, here she is! You can ask her yourself.” She turns to me with a grin.

“What’s going on?” I peer around her at a guy in a t-shirt with ‘maintenance team’ written across the back. He’s holding a giant frame up against the wall behind the desk.

“Scott’s hanging your picture, duh,” Lydia says. “It’s an excellent choice, Meg. I can see why you chose this one.” She stands back and surveys the artwork.

I move next to her and look up. “But I haven’t ordered any—’ My eyes widen, and my pulse fires, shooting adrenaline around my body.

Hell no, he didn’t.

My mouth drops open as I take in the familiar artwork which has found its way into the office.

I can’t believe he thinks I would want it now.

All I’m ever going to think about if that’s hung above my desk is him.

It’s going to be a daily reminder of what we could have had if he would only take a chance.

Take a chance on a future. Take a chance on happiness instead of choosing fear.

This is too much. He’s crossed a line sending this. I don’t want painful reminders.

Not today.

Not ever.

“Meg? Where are you going?” Lydia calls to my back. I turn towards her in the doorway, anger surging through me.

“Don’t hang that. It’s going back.” I grit my teeth and jab a finger toward the drawing.

She looks at me in confusion before understanding dawns.

“Go tell him, Meg. And don’t hold back,” she says, a smile creeping over her face.

“I’ll be back for the meeting at ten,” I call as I rush down the hallway and into the lift, hitting the button for the ground floor harder than necessary.

Bloody Jaxon King.

I storm out of the lift and grab a black taxi outside, just as someone is climbing out. I give the driver the address for King Publishing and sit back, drumming my fingers against my thigh as we take the short drive there. I’m glad I chose the fitted green dress I’m wearing. It’s smart and stylish, and with the high patent black heels, it screams ‘don’t mess with me’. It won’t fit much longer, but for today it’s perfect.

I hand the driver a ten-pound note, not waiting for my change, and grab my bag, climbing out in front of the King Publishing offices.

His company owns the entire building but lets out floors to other businesses. King Publishing has the top few floors, comprising publishing teams, online e-book teams, and marketing teams. He should have his own design team. Then I wouldn’t have had to work with him these past couple of months. He wouldn’t have gotten further under my skin.

I rush through the sleek foyer—all glass, marble, and chrome—and up to the reception desk.

A pretty blond woman smiles at me. “Good morning. My name is Sienna. How may I help?”

“Jaxon King,” I say, my voice dripping in barely concealed anger.

A trace of a frown passes across her young face before she smiles brightly. “Do you have an appointment?”

“No. But he will see me.”

“Your name?” She maintains her professional tone, even though I must look like a woman on the edge right about now.

“Megan.”

She keeps her gaze on me as she lifts a phone and presses a button. “Hello, Veronica? I have Megan here to see Mr King. She doesn’t have an app—” She pauses before putting the phone down. “Mr King will be happy to see you now, Megan.”

I doubt it. Not when I’ve finished with him.

“Take the first lift, top floor.” She smiles brightly.

I force a polite smile back and thank her. It’s not her fault that I’m storming in here with a face like thunder. There’s only one person responsible for that. I head to the lift and ride it up to the top floor, clenching and unclenching my fists on the way, muttering sarcastic comments to myself that I can use on him.

Bloody Jaxon King, thinking he can control everything.

Well, I’ve got news for him. I’ve had it up to my head with his shit! He better be prepared to listen to me, or God help him…

The doors open, and he’s stood there, hands in his pockets, as though he’s been waiting for me.

“Megan, I’m so pleased you—” His eyes rise to mine, the smile freezing on his face as he takes one look at me.

“I don’t want the drawing. Please make arrangements for it to be returned as soon as possible,” I practically shout, drawing in a deep breath as I glare up at him.

His chest rises as he takes a breath, the muscle in his jaw twitching as his eyes flick briefly over my outfit and back up to my face.

“Why don’t you come into my office, and we can discuss it?”

“There’s nothing to discuss,” I say, yet I storm past him toward his office, anyway. I’m here now, and I want to say what I came to.

Veronica smiles at me from her desk, her eyes lighting up. “Good morning, Megan. Beautiful dress.”

“Thank you.”

My step falters, and I will the blood rushing in my veins to slow down enough to smile back at her.

My eyes dart around. The waiting area around her desk is full of large boxes, as though she’s in the middle of sorting through a delivery. I open my mouth to ask what’s going on, but Jaxon is behind me like a shot, the heat from his huge body bearing down on me as he manoeuvres me with expert precision, so my view is blocked by his broad chest as he comes to stand in front of me.

“After you, Megan.” He holds his arm out towards his open office door until I tut at him and spin to stalk inside.

He follows me and closes the door behind him, sealing us both inside together. His dark eyes catch mine, and I freeze.

I am so angry at him I want to scream and shout. Ask him what the hell he thinks he’s playing at, sending me gifts still.

But a tiny part of me wants to run away. To a place far enough away that he can’t hurt me anymore. However, I’m not sure such a place exists.

My body agrees on one thing… seeing him again makes my heart skip a beat.

“What do you think you’re doing?” I hiss at him.

“What do you mean?” His eyes drop to my lips and back up as he clears his throat.

My skin prickles under the heat of his gaze as he raises a hand and rubs it thoughtfully over his jaw. The motion of it has my eyes dropping to his mouth. I blink, mentally scolding myself for being such a flake. Maybe I should wear a blindfold. It would be so much easier to be mad at him and speak my mind. No looking at his lips or long-skilled fingers… no distractions.

His dark brows furrow over his eyes. “I thought you loved that drawing, Megan?”

Bugger… there’s still his voice.

That dreamy voice that can make anything sound deliciously filthy with its devilish upper-class British lilt.

“I do. It’s beautiful,” I admit, my anger momentarily stalling as I think about the artwork and let it calm me.

The moment I saw it in Calvin’s at dinner with Jaxon, I loved it.

The hand-drawn sketch of a woman with her hand clasped tightly with someone off the page, someone only she can see. Smiling back at them with pure love and devotion in her eyes. Just the thought of it stirs up something inside me.

Makes me feel her love for who she’s looking at.

“Then why do you wish to return it?” Jaxon frowns, two lines appearing between his eyebrows as he continues rubbing his hand across his chin.

My eyes follow his hand, taking in his lips again. I shove away the memory of their softness against my skin. Soft tenderness mixed with the rough stubble from his jaw when he hasn’t just shaved.

I look away, around his office. His desk is immaculate, one single pile of paperwork he must have been working on before I arrived. It sums him up, neat, in control, everything in its place as he makes all the decisions.

Me in my place, separate from him.

Another decision that he made without me.

“Because it’s from you,” I snap, meeting his eyes once more.

He doesn’t get it.

He doesn’t understand how receiving gifts from him now is like a dagger driven into my heart.

He drops his hand to his side, his eyes squeezing shut as though my words physically hurt him.

“It was a congratulatory gift, Megan. For your new position. But if you don’t wish to keep it, then I will make arrangements to have it collected.” He opens his eyes and gestures to the two sofas. “Will you please sit? We need to talk.”

“I’d rather stand, thank you. I’m not staying.”

His face drops as he shoves his hands inside his pockets, waiting for me to continue. He looks so dejected, so hurt. No matter what’s happening between us, I hate to see him like this.

I take a deep breath, the heat that was fuelling my anger dropping down a notch.

“Under different circumstances, it would be a wonderful, thoughtful gift.”

He clears his throat. “But?”

My hands fly up into the air on either side of my head.

“But this has got to stop, Jaxon! You’ve told me you don’t want to be involved. You can’t keep turning up at my office. You can’t keep sending me gifts. It’s not fair. It just reminds me of what we could have been to one another. What we will never be to one another.”

He walks over to me and stops so close that I can smell his aftershave—woody, sexy, strong. He takes a breath, his eyes holding mine.

“I’m so sorry, Megan. Truly. I want to make things right.”

It takes everything I have to keep my voice steady, not showing him how hard I’m replaceing this.

“Then stop sending me gifts. Stop making me think of you all the time.” I look up at him. “You need to leave me alone. Let me replace a way to move forward on my own.”

Jaxon looks at me, his grey eyes reaching down into my soul, stirring up emotions I’ve spent the last couple of weeks trying to hide from—trying my hardest to leave in the past.

“I can’t leave you alone. I was wrong, so wrong. I want to be with you, Megan.” His eyes drop to my stomach as his voice cracks. “I want us to be a family.”

I stumble back a step… away from him.

“What?” I choke out.

I can’t have heard him right.

He’s spent all this time pushing me away, and now… now he’s saying he was wrong?

Is this a joke? Some cruel joke he’s playing on me.

Or maybe I’m dreaming? Maybe I never left for work this morning. Maybe I’m still asleep at home, in my bed.

My mind races. I can’t make sense of what’s going on.

I sway on my feet, and Jaxon reaches out, cupping my elbow with a strong hand to steady me.

“Princess. Are you okay?”

My stomach dances. A mocking, swirling dance, like those teacups at the fair that spins faster and faster until you don’t know which way is up.

Princess.

Why is he calling me that? I’m not his princess, not anymore. I’m not sure I ever really was.

He places his other hand up onto my cheek, cupping it in his palm. I want to lean into it. It would be so easy to let him pull me closer, but instead, I stare at him, my face blank as I watch his lips move.

“I’m sorry, Megan. I’m so sorry. You’re all I can think about. I can’t sleep. I can’t function without you. I spoke to Martin, and he helped me to see things more clearly. I’ve had it so wrong. I thought it would destroy me, living with the worry that it could all end one day, just like it did when I lost my dad. But I’m an idiot. I can see that now. I would rather have had twelve years of my dad and the pain of losing him than never to have had him at all.” He pauses, his glassy eyes pleading. “I don’t want to live without you, Megan. Please. I want to make things right.”

I shake off his grip and rip my cheek away from his palm, fire igniting in my stomach as my senses return.

How dare he?

“You’re telling me you’ve changed your mind? After all these weeks of pushing me away, pulling me back, like a puppet on a string?” I hiss.

He winces. “Megan, I thought I was doing what was best. I didn’t think I had a choice.”

“Best for who?” My voice rises as angry tears prick at my eyes. “Best for yourself? Because being dumped by the father of my baby sure as hell isn’t best for me! I had no choice in anything! You shut me out!”

He stares at me as I continue. I’m on a roll.

I jab a finger into his chest. “I needed you, and you hid away from me.” I screw my face up. “I can’t trust you. You could change your mind again next week, and where would that leave me? Leave us?” My hand drops to my stomach.

His voice comes out strained, a whisper, “Megan, please. I won’t ever let you down again. I swear on my life. You are everything to me. Both of you.”

Jaxon lifts his hand and takes mine. His is warm and strong as he raises mine to his lips and kisses my wrist. My stomach is in knots. Painful knots, curling tighter with each thought, each hope that’s trying to push through the darkness.

“No!” I snatch my hand back. “I can’t… I can’t do this again. I can’t let you do this to me again.” My voice cracks.

“Megan, I love you. I love both of you.” Jaxon’s voice is thick with desperation as he stares at me. Every fibre in my being has ached to hear him say those words and believe he means them. Only now that he has, I think it’s too late.

“It’s not enough,” I whisper.

“Don’t say that. I’ll prove it to you. I will do anything for you to give me another chance. I’ll beg if I have to.”

He drops to his knees, his eyes shining as he looks up at me. His face is level with my stomach, and he holds my gaze as he leans forward and presses a kiss to the green fabric of my dress.

“Please, Megan. You came into my life and captivated me. That first night I saw you, I couldn’t take my eyes off you. You’re beautiful. It radiates out of you, through your eyes when you talk about art, through your voice when you talk about the people you love, through your drawings that you pour your soul into. You take my breath away. Every. Single. Day. I will do anything for the two of you.”

My chest shudders as I fight to take a breath. I can’t fill my lungs. My breath hitches in my throat each time, and I realise it’s because I’m crying. Big, fat tears roll down my cheeks. Jaxon looks up at me, his hands clasping my hips, his thumbs stroking the sides of my stomach through my dress.

“Don’t cry, Princess. I never want you to cry because of me.”

“Get up.” My voice and hands, my entire body, is shaking.

He rises to his feet and places the fingers of one hand underneath my chin, tilting my face up towards him.

“I love you, Megan. I mean it. I will do whatever it takes to make it up to you. Please let me try.” His voice is quiet, but there’s a hoarseness to it, the weight of emotion in his words pushing through.

He leans down and brushes his lips against mine, and I want to sink into him.

I want to wrap myself inside his arms and twirl to an invisible tune.

Mould myself together with him until we become one.

Whole, unfractured.

But I can’t.

Not yet.

Maybe not ever.

“Jaxon,” I breathe, placing my hands flat against his chest and stepping back.

His face falls, and my heart twists alongside the gut-wrenching feeling in my stomach.

I love him. I know deep in my soul that I love him.

The way he’s looking at me, the fire in his words, behind his eyes… I know he means it too. I know he loves me. But what if it’s not enough? He sounds so determined about having changed his mind. I want to believe him, I do, but…

“I need to think, Jaxon. You can’t just tell me you’ve changed your mind one day and expect me to forget the last couple of weeks. You told me you didn’t want to be involved.”

He scrubs his hands down over his face, a haunted look in his eyes. “I wanted to. I wanted nothing more! I thought I couldn’t. I was scared, Megan. The thought of what could happen in the future chills me to my core.”

“Don’t. You don’t know what will happen. No one does,” I whisper, tears spilling down my face.

He nods. “I know. And the more I’ve thought about it, the clearer it’s become. The only thing more frightening to me than death is the realisation that if you don’t forgive me, I will have to live without you. I don’t want that, Megan. I want to spend every day with you and our child. Loving you both.”

“Jaxon—”

“Anything you want, Megan. I’ll do anything,” he says quickly, looking into my eyes with unshed tears in his. I want to believe him. My heart aches to believe him. To give him another chance. But I don’t know if I can. What if I’m not strong enough to pick up the pieces I’ll shatter into if he pushes me—pushes us—away again?

“Give me time, Jaxon. I need time.” The heartbreak in his eyes steals my breath as I step back, increasing the distance between us. He looks like he might reach out for me again but instead thinks better of it. I can’t tear my eyes away. He’s a king in a custom-made suit—powerful, commanding, in control. Yet the struggle in his eyes tells me what’s hiding underneath, what other people can’t see—a man who has finally realised that happiness doesn’t work if we live in our past; it never can. A man who fears he has realised it too late.

His eyes search mine. “I can give you that. I would give you the universe if I could, Megan.”

We look at one another, so many things still left unspoken. I can’t stay here with him. I need time to think—alone. It would be so easy to fall into his arms right now. But if the last few weeks have taught me anything, it’s that I’m stronger than I think. I don’t need to be with Jaxon to have this baby. If I forgive him, it must be because I want it. Not because it’s the better or easier option.

I have to want this with my heart and soul.

And right now, my head is spinning too much to know what I want for lunch, let alone anything else.

I need to process this, and he has to leave me to do it in my own way.

“We can talk… soon,” I whisper as I adjust my bag on my shoulder and walk towards the door of his office.

“I’ll walk you out.” He passes me and holds the door open before I can protest.

I wipe at my cheeks, hoping I don’t look like I’ve been bawling my eyes out as I pass Veronica at her desk. There’s a delivery man with her, and she gives me a smile as she signs for a package, which he’s placed on her desk. The words deluxe baby bouncer are printed on the side of the box.

I look at Jaxon, and he places his hand to the base of my back, steering me towards the lifts. But it’s too late. I take in all the boxes that were here when I arrived. They’re all so much clearer now that I’m not storming in with the sole focus of giving Jaxon a piece of my mind.

Baby mobile, Baby cot…Baby, Baby, Baby.

“What’s all this?” I crane my neck to see as Jaxon leads me down the hallway to the lifts.

His eyes meet mine as we stop in the empty corridor.

“It’s me hoping you’ll let me be a part of your future.”

“But…” I wrinkle my nose as I look back toward his office.

He’s bought all those things. All those baby things? I don’t know what to think. He must mean it when he says he’s changed his mind.

He’s trying, he’s…

“I… Jaxon…” I open my mouth, not sure what to say.

He leans forward and tucks a loose curl behind my ear. His thumb traces over my parted lips, and my eyes flutter closed for the briefest second before he draws his hand back.

“See you soon, Megan,” he whispers.

I step inside a waiting lift in a daze. Jaxon stands there, a serious expression on his face. The glassy shine of his eyes is the only clue of the emotional weight of the talk we’ve just shared.

A weight I feel heavy in my core as the doors slide shut.