The Heir Affair

If he wanted to save their relationship, he had to get over the doubts clouding his judgment. He loved Melody and they were going to be a family. He’d won her away from Hunter once. He could do it again. And again. Whatever it took.

“Yes.”

She crossed her arms over her chest, not giving an inch. “And I’m supposed to forget every terrible thing you thought about me and be glad you’ve finally decided to come around?”

“I made a mistake.”

“You made a series of them.” Abruptly, the fight drained out of her. “This isn’t how I wanted things to go.”

“What did you expect?” He took a half step toward her, intent on making some sort of a peace offering, but let his hand fall back to his side when she shook her head.

“I don’t know.” Her shoulders rounded with exhaustion. “I thought maybe it would magically fix things.”

“We’ve had too much time apart.”

“And that’s my fault?”

Although she’d been the one who’d pulled away rather than stay and fight with him—for them—he’d meant it as an observation, not a criticism. Her distance these last few months had awakened a fear of losing her.

“I told you to go on the tour,” he reminded her. “And if I had to do it all over again, I’d make the same decision. It was the right step for your career.” And if he was honest with himself, he hadn’t been ready for the level of commitment their relationship had reached.

It still boggled his mind how fast he’d gone from being her friend to inviting her to move in with him. Cohabiting with Melody had been the most natural thing in the world. It hadn’t required any significant shift in his beliefs or habits. The transformation from bachelor to boyfriend had been seamless and rewarding. It wasn’t until she left on the tour that he’d noticed disquieting thoughts creeping in.

“How far along are you?”

“Twelve weeks.”

He did the math. The last time they’d been together. It had been a rocky weekend. “How long have you known?”

“Since shortly after I returned from Sydney.”

“Six weeks.” He rubbed his eyes while disappointment flowed through him. Why had it taken her so long to share such important news? Could it be that she was afraid of how he would react? And hadn’t he just demonstrated that she’d been right?

Her vehemence caught him by surprise. “You don’t get to do that.” She pointed an accusatory finger at him.

“Do what?”

“Make me feel bad for not rushing to tell you that everything in your life was going to change.”

She was so obviously afraid of what his reaction would be. And perhaps with good reason. He hadn’t exactly swept her into his arms and spun her in a giddy circle while crowing his delight.

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine.” But she appeared anything but okay. She seemed as shell-shocked as he was. “I’m sure we’re both overwhelmed at the idea of becoming parents. At least we have six months to get used to the idea.”

“Have you started to think about what you’re going to do?” he asked.

“What do you mean ‘do’?”

“For where you’re going to live.” Where did he figure in her plans? “Are you staying here?”

“In Las Vegas?” Melody looked like a cornered rabbit. “I don’t know. Nate is here. And Mia. Trent, Savannah and Dylan will be coming back as soon as she’s done filming the movie.”

“It doesn’t much sound like you plan on coming back to LA.”

Or back to Kyle. His home was in LA. Although, at the moment he was renting a place outside Vegas for the next few months. He’d offered to take over as temporary manager of Club T’s for two reasons. To be closer to Melody while she finished her album and to free up Trent to live in LA and take care of his son while Savannah worked.

“I feel as if I have a really good support system here.” The subtext was clear. She didn’t think he was going to be there for her. Was this opinion recently acquired or something that had occurred to her over a period of time?

“How do you figure? Trent and Savannah are in LA at the moment.”

“They’ll be coming back as soon as Savannah is done with her movie. And you’re here.”

Something loosened in his chest. “So you do want me around.”

“Of course. I want us to be a family.” Nothing sounded better, but in his peripheral vision a dozen red roses stood like a stop sign on her dining room table.

Then she shook her head. “Is that possible? Can we get back to where we were before the tour?”

“I’m not sure we can.” Although Kyle doubted it was the sort of answer a pregnant woman wanted to hear from the father of her child, he had to be honest with her. “Go backward, I mean. I’m sorry. All this has caught me by surprise. I never imagined myself a dad.”

“We never talked about it. I was a bit afraid to, knowing how you and your father get along.”

“You mean don’t get along.”

She gave a little shrug. “You aren’t him. You’re going to be a great dad.”

He wanted some time to assimilate all he’d learned, but she was staring at him like she needed him to fix everything. He just had no idea how to begin.

He considered her remark about his relationship with his father.

Suck it up, kid.

Be a man.

No one’s going to help you unless you help yourself.

The clichés went on and on. Maybe if Brent Tailor hadn’t been such a successful businessman and dedicated philanthropist, his opinions would’ve been easier to ignore. Instead, he was someone Kyle looked up to professionally. And much of what his father drilled into him had enabled his success as a major league pitcher.

The downside to what his dad had drilled into him all his life was that it didn’t enable Kyle to celebrate all he’d achieved in his baseball career or convey to Melody how he felt about their relationship.

“And you’re going to be a great mother.”

She blew out a huge breath. “I hope so. It would’ve been better if it happened later rather than sooner.”

“What’s done is done. What do you need from me?” He saw her answer coming and spoke quickly to head it off. “And don’t say nothing.”

From her frown he knew he’d struck the truth. She’d grown up watching her father and brother butt heads and depending on the situation, tended to either retreat or take on the role of peacekeeper whenever she caught a whiff of conflict.