Our baby. The phrase echoes in my head, settling into my bones with unexpected rightness.
The door to the tasting room swings open, and Lake strolls in like my life as I knew it isn’t dying a slow death at my feet. He stops short when he sees Wren, a slow smile spreading across his face.
"Well, well. Look who finally showed up." Lake looks between us, clearly enjoying the tension or drama or whatever he sees on our faces. "I was wondering when you two would finally talk after whatever happened in Vegas."
"Not now, Lake," I growl.
Wren's eyes narrow. "What exactly did you tell him?"
"Nothing," I blurt out. "I swear."
"Boss man here has been a miserable bastard for weeks," Lake says with a smirk. "Even more than usual. Plus, everyone at the Brewers Convention saw you two practically setting fire to the hotel bar with your 'argument.'" He makes air quotes around the word.
"Lake," I say, my voice dropping to a dangerous level. "Leave.”
"Fine, fine. Just came to tell you Wallace called. Airport's officially off the table. They renewed with Cascade for another two years."
Of course they did. I glance at Wren, who doesn't even try to hide the smug little smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. She lifts her chin slightly, practically daring me to start with her right now.
Any other day, this news would have me seething. I'd be plotting how to get back at her, how to steal one of her accounts right from under her and convince them to go direct-to-bar like we do. Now it barely registers next to the bombshell she just dropped.
"We'll talk about it tomorrow," I tell him, my eyes not leaving Wren's face.
Lake takes the hint and fucks off backs toward the door. "Nice seeing you again, Wren. Congrats on the airport deal. And, uh, whatever else is going on here." He gestures vaguely between us before disappearing into the main brewery.
When the door closes behind him, Wren turns to me, her expression tight. "So everyone knows about Vegas.”
"People saw us leave together. That's all anyone knows for sure." I hesitate, then add, "Well, and that we've been avoiding each other since."
"Fantastic," she mutters. There’s no way she hasn’t heard the same things from her contacts, so I don’t get why she’s acting surprised.
"Look, no one knows about the marriage. Or..." I gesture vaguely toward her stomach, not sure if I’m ready to say the word 'pregnancy' again just yet.
"And I'd like to keep it that way." She paces to the window, staring out at the brewing tanks visible through the glass. "This is such a mess."
"It doesn't have to be," I say, the words forming before I've fully thought them through.
She turns back to me, eyebrow raised. "How do you figure that?"
I take a deep breath, mentally preparing for the reaction I'm about to get. "What if we didn't get divorced?"
"Excuse me?" Her voice rises to that pitch only dogs can hear at the end.
"Hear me out." I hold up my hands, knowing I'm about to take a walk straight through a minefield. "We're already legally married. You're pregnant with my child. Maybe... maybe this doesn't have to be a disaster."
Wren stares at me like I've just suggested she tattoo my name across her forehead. "You can't be serious."
"I am." The certainty in my voice surprises even me. My hand slips into my pocket, and my fingers play with the wedding band I've been carrying around since Vegas. I haven't worn it, but I couldn't bring myself to toss it in a drawer either. I rub my thumb over the smooth metal, a habit I've developed these past weeks without really understanding why. "A kid needs both parents. And I don’t want to miss out on anything."
"We can co-parent without being married," she says. "Plenty of people do."
"I watched my dad bail on us when we needed him most. I promised myself I'd never do that to my own kid. I want to be there. Every day."
"For the baby," she repeats flatly. "The baby that may or may not exist depending on what I decide."
I wince at the reminder that she might not keep my baby. Honestly, the thought makes me fucking sick, but it’s not up to me.
And I don’t bother telling her it’s not just for the baby. That I think I wantherjust as much. Maybe more. There’s a reason I haven’t finished filling out that paperwork. "That's your choice. I meant what I said."
