She starts pacing, those sharp as hell heels she always wears stabbing into the concrete. Each step looks like it could kill a man, which is probably why she wears them. "This is insane. You don't even like me. I don't like you. You've been trying to undermine my company since day one."
"That's not true," I argue. "I respect what you've built. I just don't agree with your methods."
"Oh, please." She rolls her eyes. "You literally tried to convince the airport to cut out distributors entirely and deal directly with local breweries."
"That's just business."
"Exactly!" She throws up her hands. "This is business, Kasen. Not some fairy tale where enemies suddenly fall in love because of an accidental pregnancy."
"I'm not talking about love," I say carefully. "I'm talking about responsibility. Partnership. Doing the right thing."
"The right thing," she repeats with a sharp laugh. "Says who? The same outdated thinking that expects women to give up their careers the minute they get knocked up?”
"I'm not trying to control you or your career," I say, keeping my voice even despite the frustration building. "You're acting like I'm asking you to become a housewife. I'm just saying we're already married, and there's a baby in the mix. Maybe we should at least try to make something work."
Wren stops pacing, something shifting in her expression. "You honestly believe we could make this work? Us? The same people who've been at each other's throats for years?"
"I don't know," I admit. "But I think we owe it to ourselves—and maybe to this kid—to find out."
She studies me, arms still crossed. "And what exactly are you proposing here? Because I'm not giving up my company or my apartment."
"I wouldn't ask you to." I lean back against the table, trying to look more relaxed than I feel. "I just think we should get to know each other. Outside of business. See if there's... I don't know, something worth building on."
"Something besides volatile chemistry and a mutual love of craft beer," she says dryly. “That I can no longer drink thanks to you and your super sperm.”
I can't help the half-smile that tugs at my mouth. "Yeah. Besides that."
She's quiet for a moment, and I can almost see the wheels turning in her head. I’ve found Wren always approacheseverything like a business problem to solve, weighing options, calculating risks.
"Which way are you leaning?" I ask quietly. "About the baby?"
The question hangs between us, and I hold my breath while she takes her sweet time thinking about what she wants to say. Wren's hand moves to her stomach, then drops back to her side when she notices what she's doing.
"I'm leaning toward keeping it," she admits, her voice barely above a whisper. "But I haven't decided for sure."
The relief that pulses through me is so intense I have to grip the edge of the table to steady myself. "Okay."
She nods, then squares her shoulders. "If—and that's a big if—I decide to keep this baby, what would your involvement look like?"
"Whatever you're comfortable with," I say. "But ideally? I'd want to be there for everything. Doctor's appointments, setting up a nursery, late-night feedings. All of it."
"And our businesses? We'd keep those separate?"
"Completely. What happens at Timber stays at Timber. What happens at Cascade stays at Cascade."
She narrows her eyes. "So if I landed another account you were after..."
"I'd be pissed, but I wouldn't bring it home." I meet her gaze steadily. "This would be about us, not business."
Easier said than done, but I’d try. For her.
Forthem.
"There is no 'us,'" she says.
"Not yet," I agree. "But maybe there could be."
Wren turns away again, her fingers fidgeting with the strap of her purse. "This is insane," she mutters, but I can tell she's considering it.
