Chapter 16: Chapter 16

Ciara makes her way down the stairs from class and I have this stupid urge to carry her down myself; I don't know why I feel so protective of her. Of course, the fact that she’s pregnant obviously has something to do with it, but I didn't think it was going to be like this, yet I'm scared any move or bump will make her lose the baby. I want to take care of her twenty-four-seven, to make sure she's not in danger—it's all I ever think about now. That can’t be normal.

This morning, I didn't even notice she was gone. Then I found out and figured she took the bus, which is absolutely unacceptable. I know it'll take convincing, but she’s getting a car or chauffeur—knowing her, she'll probably end up taking the car. Something I’ve noticed about her is that she doesn’t often let people help or take care of her.

My body relaxes when she steps on the ground. She looks around—probably looking for my car—and she’s wearing jeans with a blue long sleeve blouse that goes well with her pale skin. Her long brown hair flows freely over her shoulders.

A guy approaches her and taps on her shoulder; she frowns as she turns around, then smiles at him.

I grip my steering wheel tight as I watch them. Who the hell is he? Why does it bother me? She has every right to have friends—and date—but I don't want her to. Plus, she’s not supposed to date right now…not while she's carrying my baby. It's in the damn contract. I watch as the guy takes out his phone and I’m pretty sure Ciara gives him her number.

I take a deep breath.

Really, I don't blame the guy.Ciara is beautiful in a very unique way—she doesn't have to try. She doesn't have to put a pound of make up on her face or wear provocative clothes. She's naturally beautiful…it was the first thing I noticed about her. Of course, I’d never tell her. It wouldn't be appropriate. Feeling this protective of her isn't appropriate either.

It's been so long since I've really been around a woman, I think I've forgotten how to act.

What the hell was I thinking when I decided I wanted to have a baby? I don’t regret it—that would be stupid since it's already done. I just…feel like I didn't think this through. It's a tiny human for god's sake. Maybe I should have talked it over with Caroline, my little sister. I really do want this, though. I need this.

I climb out of the car to open her door as Ciara makes her way toward me, obviously avoiding my gaze. "Who was your friend?" I ask as we climb in and I start the car.

She frowns. "You were watching me? That's creepy."

"No boyfriends, Miss Damien.  Do I  really need to remind you?"

“Luis is not my boyfriend," she says, looking at the road. "He's a friend."

"Does he know that?" I tease, relaxing a little. This can't be normal.

She sighs. "You know, this isn't fair. You're allowed to butt into my business, but you get mad when I butt into yours?"

I don't say anything…because she's right.

"And I can't keep up with your mood swings—you have issues."

I chuckle. "You're sassier than usual."

She gives me a look. "I'm pregnant. I'm the one who's supposed to be moody and sensitive."

"I'm sensitive?" I ask, glancing at her for a second before watching the road again.

She pauses. "Are you going to get mad if I say yes?"

A smile plays on my lips. "Probably."

"This is why we can't have a normal conversation," she murmurs.

I don't know if it's the pregnancy hormones that is making her brave enough to say this, but I like it—she's being honest with me.

"I'm not sensitive," I say defensively.

She scoffs. "Sure you're not. Look, I'm not saying it's bad and I get why you don't like talking about yourself, but it's not fair that you know everything about me and I don't know anything about you."

"That's not true; I don't know a lot of things about you."

"Yeah, you do," she says, turning to look at me.

"What’s your favorite color?"

"Blue."

"Aren't you going to ask me what my favorite color is?" I tease.

"Black, like your soul?"

I laugh. "Yeah, pretty much."

She smiles as she looks out the window.

"You're not going to ask me more questions?"

"I don't feel like fighting today, so no," she teases.

"I won't get mad."

"Okay...I know you have a sister. Do you have any more siblings?"

I'm surprised—mostly because people usually know this about me already. My life is an open book to everyone…but her. Also, I thought she was going to ask about me getting left at the altar, but I’m glad she didn't. "Caroline is my only sister, but I have two younger brothers."

"Are they…" she turns to look at me. "Do they own clubs like you?"

I half-smile. "No,  Murphy owns the family's brand company and Henrik’s a model.Carolina’s a wedding gown designer."

Her eyes widen. "You are all so successful."

"Don't let façade fool you."

"What do you mean?"

I shrug. "Things aren’t always like they seem. Running companies or clubs isn't everything—money isn't everything."

Coming from me, who has much more money than I ever dreamed, and I’m not happy. Instead, I’m paying this girl hundreds of thousands of dollars to carry my baby, praying a baby fulfills me. There was a time when I wanted to get married, then have babies, but circumstances have obviously changed my mind.

I always try to tell myself that I’m no longer bitter about being left at the altar, but I know I’m—it's hard to get past something like that. It happened over three years ago, yet it feels like only yesterday. I'm tired of feeling this way.

"You don't like owning a club?"

"I do. There was even a point in life when it was everything I wanted." I smile as I remember the day I opened my first club. "It fulfilled me, but not anymore. Now it's just a job."

"You're unhappy," she says, practically reading my mind.

I park and shut off the engine—we sit in silence.

"I thought becoming someone and working for my family was everything I needed,Ciara says after a moment. "Then my dad got sick, and I realized a stupid degree wouldn't matter if I didn't have a family." She unbuckles her seatbelt and scoots closer to me, reaching for my hand.Ciara presses my palm against her stomach—her skin is warm, radiating against my cold palm. "What I'm trying to say is…it happens. Things that once made us happy eventually stop making us happy." She smiles at me. "This baby is good for you,Evans. I believe that now."

As I look into her dark eyes, I smile. Before, I didn’t realize how badly I needed someone to say that and it sounds so much better coming out of her mouth.

I extend my hand, covering most of her stomach. It's flat now, but it’s comforting to know there’s something in there, growing by the day. In a few months, this baby will be in my arms—it's a little scary to think about. For a moment, I wish Ciara wasn't only my surrogate…

I dismiss the thought. Immediately.

"Thank you," I say, pulling my hand away. I get out of the car and go around to open the door for her, but she's already out.

"I have something for you," I say, reaching into my pocket. I pull out a key and place it in her hand, then glance at the new car next to mine—a Nissan Altima. "It's all yours."

Her jaw drops. "What? No, Evans."

I turn with a mischievous smile. "Unless you want a chauffeur?"