Chapter 3

I felt nothing at all.

"I've said it plenty of times already. Chase and I have nothing left between us. I have my own family. Tell him to have some self-respect."

With that, I took my son and walked straight out of the dining area.

Back in my room, Nathan Sterling called. His voice, warm and gentle, put me at ease almost instantly.

"How's the place treating you, honey? Anything you're not happy with? I'll have the manager fix it."

I thought about the unpleasantness earlier, but didn't mention it. We'd be leaving tomorrow anyway—no point causing trouble for the manager over it.

"Everything's great. Rowan loves it here. We can't wait to see you."

Nathan chuckled softly. "Good. I'll be there to meet up with you two soon. Muah. A kiss for my darling wife, and, muah, a kiss for our darling son."

Whatever cloud had settled over me instantly cleared.

After changing, I took my son out for the afternoon. We bought a small mountain of souvenirs, which the two guides I'd hired carried for us. By evening, when we got back to the guesthouse, Monica was sprawled in the courtyard. The second she spotted us, she curled her lip.

"Spending money like that—Chase's money's just that easy to burn through, huh?"

Chase was sweeping nearby. The moment he saw my son, he plastered on a smile and reached for him. I pulled my son behind me instantly, and the two guides dropped what they were carrying and stepped between us.

Chase's hand froze mid-air. "What's your problem? I'm his father!" he snapped.

Watching him act so righteous about it, I could only think how absurd it was. My position couldn't have been clearer—I had a family, and my son wasn't his—yet he was still drowning in his own delusion.

I challenged him. "Fine. Then tell me his name."

Chase choked. Pure panic flooded his eyes. Even the child I'd once carried for him, he'd never once thought to name.

After a long silence, my son poked his head out and said in his bright, clear voice, "I'm Rowan Sterling! I was born in the fall."

Chase's eyes went wide, shock and confusion flashing across his face, his hands trembling.

"That timing... there's no way this kid was born in autumn. No way!"

"Oh, please!" Monica sneered. "Ivy, you're still trying to prove some big romantic thing between you and Chase, huh? You women really do overdo it. 'Rowan' obviously commemorates the autumn we set off cycling!"

Chase seized on that like a lifeline and nodded hard at Monica. "That's right!"

I said coldly, "No need for that. My son was simply born in autumn. If some people can't take a hint, that's not my problem."

Chase's eyes hardened. "Ivy! You can't be so rude to Monica—"

"Chase!" The guesthouse manager came jogging over, his expression stern. "I let you work here alone in exchange for housing two people—I've already been more than generous. You will not bother my guests! Get back to work, or get lost!"

Chase's face went pale, then flushed, under the scolding. His fists clenched, but in the end, he lowered his head, sullen.

So this was how considerate he was toward Monica—working to pay for her stay. It had never once occurred to him that I, pregnant, might have needed that same consideration.

Whether the man had a heart in him at all, I honestly couldn't say.

Escorted by the guides and the manager, we made it back to our room. Tomorrow we'd leave, and Chase would never see us again.

That night, I sat with my son on our room's small balcony, looking at the stars, and opened a bottle of peanut milk for him. He was happily cradling it, had just taken a small sip, when out of nowhere, Chase came scrambling over the railing in a frantic rush.

He snatched the bottle from my son's hands and hurled it to the ground, then jabbed a finger at me, roaring.

"Ivy! Are you trying to kill our son?

"Everyone in the Reed family is allergic to peanuts—it runs in our blood! Giving him this—are you out of your mind?"