Chapter 18

One month before my due date, Rhys asked to speak with me alone. Not about the baby. About us. His email contained no long explanation. If the answer is no, I will not ask again. I agreed to meet in the inn’s garden room after closing. Odette remained upstairs, close enough if I needed her but far enough to give me privacy. Rhys arrived without a folder. For months, every serious conversation had involved medical forms, expense records, or parenting schedules. That evening, he carried...