Title

Author’s Note

Author’s note:

For a list of tropes and CWs, please visit the author’s website

FROM THE PERVY HEART OF THE AUTHOR

To Layla Frost’s Cupcakes, thank you for being you. I am so lucky that out of all the websites available, you choose to spend part of your day with me. Thank you for helping me live my dream by reading my words.

Thank you to Layla’s Naughty Review Team for always going with the flow and being flexible with me. One day I’ll be a good adult. Maybe…

Thank you to Beth for your amazing proofreading skills, Kari March with www.karimarch.com for the beautiful cover, and Jenny Sims with www.editing4indies.com for the hard work!

As always, thank you to Brynne Asher and Sarah Curtis for being amazingly supportive friends.

To M- Thank you for the constant inspiration, encouragement, coffee, and dick… And not necessarily in that order.

Dedication

To the cracked vases in danger of shattering completely…

You’re stronger than you think.

PROLOGUE

MAC

Nineteen Weeks Ago

I can’t believe it.

How?

I just…

What?

I’d felt off.

Tired.

No. Exhausted.

Sick to my stomach in a way that went far beyond any stomach bug or flu I’d ever had.

That nausea should’ve been a good indication of what was happening, but it hadn’t occurred to me since it wasn’t exclusive to the morning.

Wasn’t morning sickness supposed to just be in the morning?

Apparently not.

Before I took the time to schlep myself to a doctor’s office—one of my least favorite places in the world—I’d decided to consult Dr. Google with my symptoms. Almost every result gave the same diagnosis.

I thought there was no way.

They were wrong.

It was impossible.

Yet as I stared down at the white stick in my shaking hands, I saw the undeniable proof of it.

I can’t even…

Is this…

How am I going to tell him?

Like I’d summoned him from my thoughts, my fiancé burst through the bathroom door. I must’ve failed to lock it in my distracted hurry.

Stupid.

I didn’t even bother to hide what I held. His gaze was already zeroed in on it.

“Well?” he prompted, his face carefully blank.

I turned it so he could see.

Two pink lines.

Two very dark pink lines.

“Honey,” he drawled, though his expression gave me nothing.

My heart squeezed and my stomach felt hollow—though the pregnancy test confirmed it was very much not.

It didn’t matter that he needed to leave for work—I’d thought he was already gone—Eddie closed the distance between us. I jolted as he suddenly dropped to his knees in front of me with no regard to how his clothes would rumple. His large hands wrapped around my sides, his thumbs stroking my still flat stomach.