“Tyrell!” Mari’s shrill demand burst the bubble.
They both looked at the abandoned phone. Mari’s contact picture beamed up at them from the floor.
Millie lunged past him to retrieve the phone. “Ask her.”
She gripped the case tightly enough to disguise the tremors running through her. Adrenaline. Fear. And yes, a spark. Millie loved a challenge. If Mari thought she could get Ty back by playing the pregnancy card again, she’d have a bigger fight on her hands this time.
Ty took the phone from her and held it in his palm between them. “How pregnant?”
“Who is that? Who’s there? What do you mean, how?” Mari asked, exasperated. “The usual way.”
Millie rolled her eyes, then nodded and circled her hand, prompting him to press her.
“How many months?” he clarified.
“Three,” Mari answered without hesitation.
Her heart somersaulted in her chest, but Millie held steady. For her own sake as much as his. She couldn’t fall apart. Wouldn’t. At least not as long as she could focus on fixing him. She stared hard into his eyes, searching for the truth. All she found was a man who appeared to be completely lost. And more than a bit worried.
Choking down her pride, she tapped the screen to mute the phone. “Don’t say anything now. Tell her you need to think and you’ll call her back.”
“Call her back?”
“Give yourself a few minutes to process. She’s trying to psych you out. Hit you hard and knock you off-kilter.”
“Psych me out?”
“Get you to admit something, agree to anything.” She gave his arm a gentle squeeze, then shook him to be sure she had his attention. “Take some time. Think it through.”
“Ty, we need to get some things settled,” Mari insisted.
“No. Not now,” Millie said firmly. He gazed down at her, his heart in his eyes. “You’ll call her back.” She relieved him of the phone and ended the call without allowing one more word.
They stood facing one another, eyes locked, breathing perfectly in sync, their bodies swaying in the maelstrom of emotion swirling around them.
“You’re okay.” The words came to her reflexively. Ty blinked, then swallowed as if they were precisely the medicine he needed. Smiling a reassuring smile, she slipped the phone into his pocket and gave it a pat. “These shorts are a crime against mankind.”
“Millie—”
She pressed a fingertip to his lips to silence him. “Shh. Stop. Breathe. We’re okay.”
He gave his head an incredulous shake. “How can we be okay?” The crack in his voice put a pretty good-sized one in the shell around her heart. “She can’t be… She can’t do this.”
Taking his hand, she started back toward the kitchen. Hard to believe that a few minutes ago, this man seemed like the biggest threat to her happiness. Now, she knew better. Adding presumption to the list of lessons learned, she swore off scotch chasers for the foreseeable forever and vowed to herself she’d get her head and her heart straight. No more messing around. The push-me-pull-you game was over. From this point on, she needed to choose. In or out. And if she wanted to be in, she’d have to go all in.
When they reached the table, she gave him a gentle shove, and he dropped into the seat he’d abandoned to go after her. “First, it takes two,” she said firmly. “And I know you can do anything you choose to do.” Regaining her seat, she sighed. “Second, you can’t react emotionally now. You need to stop and think. Start with possible. Then we’ll deal with probable and go from there. You have choices too. Not the same kind Mari has, but you do have some.”
He massaged the vertical lines between his knitted brows with the side of his index finger, and Millie found herself transfixed. “Three months,” he mumbled. “So, yeah, possible. I guess.”
“You and Mari were still sleeping together when she was…seeing Dante.”
He lifted his hand enough to shoot her a look. “You’re cute when you get all euphemistic. I seem to remember you being more blunt than this.”
She reached across to pat his forearm. “Yes, well, I’m afraid you might cry.”
He let his hand fall palm up on the table. Unable to resist the invitation, she slipped hers into his, sighing as those long fingers closed around hers. He squeezed once, then relaxed his grip. “I’m afraid I might too.”
“We’ve got possible. Let’s talk about probable.” She took a bracing breath, then plunged in with the tough questions. “Were you guys still pretty…regular?”
He pulled back as if he’d been scalded. “Oh, for God’s sake.”
Millie wanted to smile when she spotted the blush darkening his skin, but she settled for a simple lift of her eyebrows. This wasn’t the time for needling him about delicate sensibilities. Still, she liked that he had them. He had an honorable streak a mile wide. One strong enough to overcome the very natural and human impulse to seek revenge, validation, or solace in a woman’s arms when his marriage imploded. No matter how hard the woman in question tried to lure him into temptation. Of course he’d be reluctant to discuss his marital relations with the woman who was now his lover.
“It’s okay, Ty.”
“Not one fucking bit of this is okay,” he snapped, launching himself from the chair. “I don’t want to talk about this with you.”
Millie nodded once, then pulled her phone from the bag she’d abandoned in an empty chair. “Would you like me to contact Danny? Or Mike Samlin?”
Ty whirled on her. “What? Why?”
She shrugged. “Because they’re men? Because you’re not sleeping with them?”
“You think I can’t do the math on my own?”
“I think you’re upset—which is totally reasonable,” she hastened to add when his lip curled into a sneer. “And maybe you’d have an easier time telling them things you might not want to tell me.”
He tilted his head. “And why wouldn’t I want to tell you?”
“Because we are sleeping together. Maybe you’re afraid you’ll hurt my feelings?”
He pounced on the hint of vulnerability. “Are you telling
