He headed straight for her.
My gaze locked with his, and I let the truth free.
It stopped him in his tracks.
“I’m pregnant.”
*
PRESENT
Twenty minutes later, I walked into our modest two-bedroom apartment that contrasted greatly with the luxury I had grown up in. The best part was I didn’t care because it was mine—ours.
I set Kennedy down, who immediately toddled off for trouble in parts unknown. I had strict instructions for her to stay out of the bathroom and kitchen, but just in case my little, hardheaded tornado chose not to listen, I kept gates in the entryways.
Her toys were kept in a bin in the living room so I knew where her first stop would be. I had maybe an hour to prepare dinner before she would be on the move again, so I usually waited until she tired herself out and put her down for the night before doing homework or studying.
We had a routine that worked for us. There were some bad days as a single mother and a baby cheated out of a parent, but we loved each other through it. It was enough because it had to be.
Besides, Kennedy wasn’t lacking from love. I had more than enough help when I needed it. Her existence changed more than just my life, and I’ll never forget the day I found out I was pregnant. It was the first time I think anything had made Keiran Masters afraid.
Instead of starting dinner, I followed her into the living room and watched her from the entry.
“Mama. Toons.”
The sound of my little girl’s voice snatched me from memory lane. Her dark eyes, much like her father, stared up at me.
When I didn’t move fast enough, she lifted the remote from the coffee table, turned and said, “Mama, I watch toons now,” while pressing any and every button.
I studied her as she frowned in concentration, watching for any sign of absence or upset. Every day, she became more independent and fiercely so. I knew helping her would only upset her, so I waited patiently while she figured it out. It didn’t take long for my little genius to find a suitable channel, and when she did, I left her alone to fix dinner.
Adapting to motherhood was rocky in the beginning, and when I’d finally adjusted and found a rhythm, it was snatched away. Kennedy was diagnosed as an epileptic a year ago. The first time she had a seizure was the scariest seconds of my life. Even though the episode didn’t last long, I rushed her to the hospital that night, not knowing how or why, and I died each second that past. Because of her tender age, the doctors chose to keep her overnight but were prepared to call it an isolated incident. That was until not twenty-four hours later, she suffered another seizure. A couple of tests confirmed the doctors’ fears that it was epilepsy.
I remember thinking how she was too young.
Too innocent and undeserving.
Feeling helpless while she suffered twisted me inside out and ripped me apart. Every day, I worried that somehow simply caring for her wouldn’t be enough, and for the second time, I would lose the love of my life.
A year ago, I thought I was prepared to leave Keenan behind in my memories, but when I thought I was losing Kennedy, I sought him out. I reopened the wound for the sake of the life we created. For a moment, I believed he had the right to know even though it was his decision to leave. But when I couldn’t find him, and I began to realize he was gone forever, the wound healed differently.
I hated him for everything he forced me through for love. In the end, what hurt the most was he got to be the one to leave and I was left holding the shattered pieces.
When dinner was finished, I spooned her favorite meal of mac and cheese into a bowl with franks cut into small pieces.
“Kennedy, I made your favorite!”
I waited with a smile. In no time, she appeared at the gate and flashed a toothy grin. “Franks?” She shouted excitedly causing her r to sound like a w.
My cell rang just as I opened the gate. I sat her in the chair and pushed the bowl of mac and franks in front of her before picking up.
“Hey, Lake.”
“Don’t hey me. How did it go?”
I feigned irritation and sighed, “Do you know, the more you’re with him, the ruder you get?”
I would never have imagined the woman Lake Monroe is today was the same timid, naive girl who was bullied mercilessly by her now boyfriend.
Four years ago, no one knew the reason behind the deep hatred Keiran Masters felt for her. He had been the king of Bainbridge and had no problem using his power to ridicule and cripple her social life and self-esteem for ten years before it all changed for love.
Even though love had softened his rough edges, he could still be a scary motherfucker. I used to worry for Lake because people didn’t just change overnight, but so far, I haven’t seen signs she might be unhappy.