His Surprise Baby by Layla Valentine & Ana Sparks

Author:Layla Valentine & Ana Sparks
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2018-01-15T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 21

Ashley

I couldn’t remember ever feeling so miserable. I spent the weekend curled up in bed, refusing to leave the soft comfort of my blankets unless it was to use the bathroom. I barely ate, couldn’t find it in me to push myself out of my funk. Bathing was entirely out of the question, and I nearly grew too weary to even move.

The shrill ringing of my doorbell was what woke me Monday morning, and I deeply considered ignoring the call. I couldn’t imagine who would be checking in on me besides my mother, and even she had been tainted by Jensen’s touch. More specifically, his mother’s touch—our mothers had hit it off instantly. I hadn’t heard from Mom since the spat with Jensen, and I almost hoped she’d seen the light and returned to me. It wasn’t that I had a particular grudge against Jensen’s mother; I just didn’t want to see anything to do with him.

My mind racing, I forced myself out of bed to answer the doorbell. Knowing my luck, it was some door-to-door salesman, or someone trying to save my eternal soul.

As I pulled open the door, I felt as if the wind had been knocked completely from my sails. My heart caught, skipped a beat, then began to pound in my chest as I took in the face of the man who had haunted my every waking thought. Though I had thought he was the last person I wanted to see, I realized how far from the truth that was. Jensen held yet another bouquet of flowers, and when he took me in, his expression turned all the more sorrowful.

“Ashley… I’m so sorry,” he blurted out, and I quietly stepped aside to allow him into my apartment. It was all I could do to keep from launching myself at him, capturing him in a bruising embrace and refusing to ever release him. I only registered that he had apologized when he stepped inside and brushed a hand to my cheek. I swallowed a lump forming in my throat, telling myself that I would not cry. Under no circumstances would I allow myself to cry.

“I’m sorry, too,” I choked out, cursing myself as tears began to spill down my cheeks. He tossed the bouquet aside, then, pulling me in close and resting his chin on top of my head.

“I was so worried when I read your note, I came here as soon as I read it. Well, after picking up your flowers,” he trailed off, glancing at the discarded bouquet with a slight frown.

“I don’t need flowers as long as I have you,” I said quietly, reaching up to touch his cheek. I could scarcely believe he was actually in my apartment, almost certain that I was suffering from some sort of strange fever dream.

He rested his hand on top of mine, closing his eyes as he attempted to rein in his own emotions. There was so much I wanted to say, so much that weighed heavily on my heart.

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