Page 47 of Let Me Love You

It’s perfect.

“What do you think?” Theo asks, watching me as I check out the master bathroom, complete with dual shower heads and heated Italian marble floors.

Yup. This’ll do just fine.

“Blake?” he prods.

I drag my fingers against the dark counter and face him again. “I think it’s pretty gorgeous. What do you think?”

“So, it’s a yes? You like it?”

“Uh, I kind of love it,” I admit. “But you never answered me. What doyouthink?”

“Amy!” he calls, not bothering to answer me. “Let’s draw up the paperwork.”

I squeal again and jump into Theo’s arms, kissing the shit out of him as he cups my ass and lifts me up until my legs are wrapped around his center.

Yup.

This’ll do just fine.

15

COLT

My knee bounces up and down as I stare at my phone. I called the lawyer’s contact information on the subpoena while Ashlyn was with the girls yesterday. After a quick chat where I explained I wasn’t going to be a dick and would cooperate, she gave me two options. One, I can pay for a private lab to perform the paternity test and receive the results sooner. Or two, we can wait until the court sets everything up, which could take up to three or four months.

Pretty sure neither Ash nor I can stomach that long of a wait without knowing the truth.

Am I gonna be a dad?

Do I want to be a dad?

I opted for the private lab. Apparently, Eleanor agreed because her lawyer, Ali Marshall, just sent a text with the time and place.

Resting my ass on the bed and my elbows on my knees, I hang my head as the bathroom door opens, revealing a freshly showered Ashlyn in nothing but a fluffy gray towel wrapped around her torso and knotted between her breasts.

“Hey,” I mutter.

She pulls her wet hair over one shoulder and starts combing it. “Hey.”

After I picked her up from Blake and Mia’s house last night, she passed out and slept in. I still don’t know if it’s because of the alcohol or if she’s avoiding me on purpose.

“How are you feeling?” I ask.

“I’m okay. Should probably be worse,” she admits with a soft smile. Sobering slightly, she adds, “I’m sorry I got mad at you.”

Her apology makes my chest ache, and I shake my head, pushing to my feet. “You had every right to be mad at me.”

“Yeah, but I get it.” Her movements are strained as she sets the comb back onto the counter. Our gazes collide when she faces me again. “How are you feeling? About the whole thing?”

“Stressed. I talked to the lawyer.”

“And?”

“And I’m gonna have the test done on Monday.”

Her eyes widen. “So soon?”