Filthy Beautiful Lust (Filthy Beautiful Lies, #3)

Kylie

Elan sits across the table from me, sipping his coffee and quietly watching Max. The restaurant is more upscale than I would have preferred. I’m not opposed to taking Max out to eat, but generally choose somewhere loud and kid-friendly. This quiet, quaint bistro is neither. In fact, I think Max is the only child in the place. Thankfully, the restaurant did have a highchair when I asked for one, and Max is seated in between Elan and I, happily munching on crackers that I’ve broken up in front of him. The dirty scowls from the waitress tells me that she’s definitely noticed the pile of crumbs he’s creating on the floor.

“What did you guys do last night?” Elan asks, breaking my concentration.

“Us?” I squeak out. “Nothing. I mean, we ate dinner and then Max had a bath.” Oh, and then got my brains fucked out by a man I think I’m falling in love with.Property © 2024 N0(v)elDrama.Org.

He nods.

The waitress comes by and we order our food, Belgian waffles for me and Max, and poached eggs for Elan. I feel terribly guilty about the way I left Pace this morning. The smell of scrambled eggs and toast coming from the kitchen, coupled with the sight of a rumpled, sleepy Pace were hard to resist. But Elan is Max’s father, I have to see if this could work, right?

As I watch Elan and Max, I’m struck by a sinking feeling. They may look alike, but that’s where the similarities end. Max is eager and friendly, and babbles nonstop. Elan is composed and calculated, and a man of few words.

Elan seems cold and distant. I realize with trepidation these are not qualities I want my son to learn. But Max doesn’t seem all that interested in Elan. I remember how even in the beginning, he went right to Pace. Of course Pace, so confident and open, smiled and talked to him. Elan is doing none of those things.

“I wanted to bring him a toy, but I didn’t know what to get that might be age-appropriate,” Elan says after several minutes of awkward silence.

That never stopped Pace. Again, I’m with Elan and all I can think about is Pace and how the man in front of me doesn’t measure up. I can’t help but recall the tender, yet intense way he made love to me last night. His fingers curling into my hips and his teeth lightly grazing my lower lip.

Elan walked out on me, believing that chasing his own happiness did not involve me or a baby. I am self-aware enough to know that my happiness centers on a sticky, nonsense-babbling tiny person. Elan was a fool not to see that. Not to even step foot onto this adventure. And it’s too late now. And while I know that being a parent isn’t easy, Pace isn’t just willing to take it on. He’s practically begging for the chance.

Suddenly, I feel like I can’t breathe. I know I’ve made a terrible mistake pushing him away in favor of Elan – the man who’d left me when I’d been at my most vulnerable. Pace had been my knight – coming to my rescue when I needed it most.

I rise from the table. “I’m sorry. I thought I could do this, but I can’t. If you want visitation, we can work that out. But you and I…” I pause, drawing a deep breath. “We are through. The day I told you I was pregnant, and you left, that is not something that I can overcome. I want a man who sees my worth, and not someone who’s willing to take me back despite what he sees as a flaw.”

“Kylie, I…”

“No.” My tone is resolute.

His mouth closes. He can tell that I’m done. He folds his hands in front of him while his expression remains cool and neutral. He is not even going to fight for me. For his son. No, this is not a man that I want Max to grow up idolizing and imitating.

I swallow down a lump of sadness and lift Max from the highchair. “Text me, and we can arrange for visitation.” And with that, I stride to the exit and toward what I hope is my future.