When Mia, a world-famous pop star, turns up on Tyler Sullivan's door to announce she's pregnant from a one-night stand, they agree to hide the pregnancy so Tyler can raise the baby alone.
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Despite fame and fortune, Mia...
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Her glossy dark hair fell around her like a curtain over the tin he used for garbage next to his desk. Tyler Sullivan was fairly certain his brain was five steps behind where it needed to be in this moment. Mia was pregnant?
Gently, he swept her hair back from her face, securing it at her nape in his fist while she dry heaved into the can. He tried to avert his gaze, sure she probably didn't want him witnessing this. Morning sickness? His sister Emily had been violently ill when she'd first gotten pregnant with Nadir. She'd actually lost weight during her pregnancy for the first little while. If their father hadn't been a doctor, they might have panicked. Mia was already thin, bordering on too thin for his taste. Had she looked like this a couple months ago?
When she stood up, he released her hair and grabbed a box of tissues, passing them to her.
"Pregnant?" His mind was scrambling, trying to get a foothold on the confession.
She wiped her mouth and threw the tissue into the can. Her lips twisted in annoyance and she pressed her fingers into her forehead. Stooping low, she picked her glasses up from where she'd let them fall on the floor. "Yep. Pregnant. Don't worry. I'm not keeping it. I can't keep it."
"Oh." The weight of her words settled over Tyler faster than the initial revelation. "Um..." He searched for the right way to phrase his question. Was it possible to ask it without offending her? Probably not. If it wasn't his, her trip here made no sense. But a baby was too important to let assumptions lead the way.
"Yes, this baby is yours. Whatever you've read, whatever you've heard, I don't sleep with random men all the time."
The night of the Magic Men concert she'd invited him back to her hotel after he'd stitched up her dress. He'd said yes because he was between relationships, because she was pretty, because his dad's funeral was the next day and anything that kept that thought at bay was exactly what he'd needed. Afterward, he'd avoided looking for any information on her, on grilling Grady, on figuring out whether he should have slept with her. It was done. Once a decision was made, there was no going back. Now, there were consequences, and he needed to face those head on too.
"How old are you, exactly?" Inside, he cringed. His sisters, Emily and Maggie would beat him with their shoes for this question. It was the question he should have asked that night.
Her eyebrows went up in an almost comical look of disbelief. "You don't know how old I am?"
"Do you know how old I am?" he countered, crossing his arms.
Her gaze traveled from his feet up to meet his eyes. He remembered he'd liked her eyes. They were a strange blue-green, and they changed like a mood ring depending on how close she got to climaxing. Jesus. Why did he let his mind wander there?
"No crows feet, no grey hair. There's like a ten-year window here. I don't know. Like thirty?"
Tyler cracked a smile. "Like thirty-five. I'm Grady's age."
