“Yesterday you weren’t sure this was your baby.”
“I’m still not.”
“So why are you insisting on being with me for my appointment?”
“I feel responsible. Your accident happened in front of my building.” A muscle jumped in his jaw. “Plus, you don’t seem the type to make up something that would be easy to disprove.”
“You don’t know me well enough to say that,” she declared, unaccountably frustrated that he trusted her.
“I don’t,” he agreed. “But the fact that you’re trying so hard to avoid my help gives me reason to believe that you believe the baby is mine.”
“You realize I could be a master manipulator.” Yet even as she said this, she noted his wry expression. Obviously, he wasn’t taking her warning seriously. Was she really that transparent? Given the mocking quirk of his eyebrow, she guessed she was. “Okay, fine. Maybe I’m not, but that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t be wary of me.”
If anything, his amusement deepened. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
What was wrong with her? Why couldn’t she just accept his help until she figured out her situation? Heaven knew she had more than enough to worry about between dealing with her mother, remaking her career and finding a new apartment she could afford.
“I have work to do in my studio,” he said. “Why don’t you settle in and then rest. We can talk over dinner. If you get hungry in the meantime, my housekeeper will fix you whatever you want. Her name is Marie.”
“Thank you.”
Other words wanted to pour out of her. She had questions about why he was helping her and how he saw the future playing out for them. That he’d led her to a guest room rather than the master bedroom was a good indication that there’d be no more drugging kisses and passion-filled nights ahead of her. She’d have to be content with the memory of his lips trailing over her skin and the way she’d lost her mind as their bodies came together.
“No need for thanks.” If he had any inclination where her thoughts had gone, he gave no indication. “I’ll see you later.”
As Oliver’s footsteps retreated down the hall, Sammi’s knees buckled and she dropped onto the bed. Had coming here been the right decision? Ever since their first night together, she’d recognized that anything beyond a single night in his bed would end badly for her. His reputation as a hard-partying player who abused drugs and alcohol might be behind him, but he didn’t strike her as a good bet for long-term involvement. Yet here she was, ensconced in his SoHo apartment, hiding from her mother, out of touch with reality, unsure of what life-altering issue to tackle first.
The contents of her overnight bag awaited her attention. She had no idea what she’d packed. Earlier, with Oliver looming in her bedroom doorway, overseeing her efforts as if expecting her to collapse at any second, she’d been too distracted to think straight. Sammi unzipped her bag and began to pull out the things she’d brought with her, forcing herself to make peace with her decision to come here and take stock of what she had to work with. For months now, she’d been wanting a fresh start but couldn’t find the breathing room to clear her head and make a plan. Oliver had offered her the peace and space to do so. She would’ve been a fool not to take it.
Once everything was put away, she settled at the desk with a blank notebook and a batch of colorful pens. Working through her problems was easier when she put pen to paper and made lists. With her thoughts spinning, she wrote Wants at the top of the first page and began brainstorming.
At the top of the list was her baby. She hadn’t realized how keenly she longed for the child until she registered the concerned expression on the nurse’s face after discovering Sammi was pregnant. At that moment, as she’d contemplated whether or not the baby had survived her fall, she’d embraced motherhood with a fervent grip and swore she’d never let go.
Sammi went on to fill the page with her heart’s desires, not pausing to edit as she wrote. Not everything was achievable or even all that specific, but the act of emptying herself would open up space for all the actions she needed to take.
Turning the page, she created a to-do list. First of all, she needed to have a conversation with her modeling agency. She hadn’t yet told them she was pregnant and hoped she could book some pregnancy shoots while she figured out what to do next. Celeste blithely refused to acknowledge that with each passing birthday Sammi grew closer to the end of her career. Celeste’s refusal to recognize that her daughter couldn’t model forever had made it hard for Sammi to plan for the future. If only she had some idea what direction to take. She’d never been given a moment’s peace to think about what she’d love to do, much less figure out something she was good at.
Next, Sammi needed to give notice and find a new apartment, something more affordable. A shiver ran through her as she considered how badly her mother was going to freak when she learned she had to move. Sammi hardened her resolve. If Celeste didn’t have the funds to live on her own, then that was her own fault. She’d been drawing a salary as Sammi’s manager for years. Meanwhile, she’d done little to contribute to the cost associated with living in Manhattan, leaving her daughter to foot the bills. Sammi recognized that she’d let her mother take advantage,
