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rel="nofollow" href="#ulink_b4624ef5-7629-5efb-a66d-acd446f5b435">Seventeen

      Mia settled onto the exam table, more than ready to find out the sex of her baby. She’d hoped this would be a happy day, one with Bronson at her side, holding her hand while beaming at the screen. But that was not to be. She hadn’t talked to him in the three weeks since he’d stormed out of her house, and she was not going to go to him. Once he had time to think, to process all this information, he could come to her. If he still wanted her.

      Just as the ultrasound tech walked into the room, Bronson fell into step behind her and entered.

      Relief surged through her. God, how she’d wanted him here, wanted him so bad she wondered if she didn’t just wish him to appear.

      “Am I late?” he asked, coming to stand beside the table.

      The tech smiled. “Not at all. I’m just getting started.”

      Mia glanced up to Bronson. “I didn’t think you’d come.”

      “I told you I’d be part of this baby’s life.”

      She’d hoped Bronson was here out of his concern and love, not obligation. Had he changed his mind? Did he question her again about who the father was?

      He didn’t reach for her hand, didn’t even look at her again as the tech moved the probe over her belly.

      “There’s the heart.” The tech pointed on the screen. “All the arteries and vessels look good. Let’s take some measurements so we can determine the approximate weight.”

      Mia watched, waiting with anticipation to make sure everything on her baby was healthy and normal. Nothing else mattered but the welfare of her child. Not Bronson’s anger, not the secret she’d kept. Nothing.

      “Your baby weighs about nine ounces and has a very healthy heart and organs.” She adjusted the probe. “Now let’s see if we can determine the sex.”

      Mia glanced back to Bronson, who kept his eyes on the screen. She might as well be here alone. He showed no sign of affection toward her, no brush of his hand against hers, no eye contact. The words he’d spoken were cold.

      “Looks like we have a girl.”

      Mia’s gaze jerked back to the screen. “A girl? Are you sure?”

      The tech pointed to the screen. “Positive. The new imaging machines make this so easy to determine. See?”

      Mia saw indeed. “Is she putting her toes in her mouth?”

      The tech laughed. “She is. Most babies develop personalities in utero. Your little one is playful.”

      Just then the baby turned, exchanging toes for a thumb. Mia’s eyes misted as she watched her baby’s activity. A new life she and Bronson had created. How could he not want to reach out and touch her hand? Had he already distanced himself that much? Was he completely through with her?

      “I’ve printed some pictures for you to take with you,” the tech said. “I’d like to do another ultrasound closer to thirty-two weeks if you want to go ahead and get that scheduled. Do either of you have any questions?”

      Mia shook her head.

      “No,” Bronson answered, taking the photographs the tech held out to him. “Thank you.”

      “I’ll just step out and let you dress,” she told Mia.

      Mia climbed down from the table and started toward the small bathroom off the exam room.

      “Mia.”

      She turned, looking into the eyes of the man she feared she’d always love, but could never have. “Yes?”

      “I meant what I said. I’ll be here for the baby.”

      “Just the baby, Bronson?” Mia clutched the paper-thin gown to her chest, trying to keep the hurt from entering her heart. “You may not want to admit it because you feel I betrayed you, but you know I did nothing wrong. I understand you want to place blame somewhere, but don’t use me and this baby as your targets.”

      “How am I supposed to feel, Mia?” He stepped closer, the muscle ticking in his jaw. “I’ve been lied to and manipulated in a situation just like this before.”

      Pulling all her courage to the surface, Mia swallowed any fear and knew she needed to explain where she was coming from. “I’ve already told you I was in the car when my parents were killed. I overheard my mother on the phone telling someone she was expecting a baby. I was so excited, and I asked her about it. She said not to tell anyone, but I didn’t think she meant I couldn’t tell my dad. I mentioned it in the car because I couldn’t hold it in any longer. They immediately started arguing. At the time I didn’t know what they were so upset about, but I remember my father saying something about the baby not being his because he’d had surgery.”

      Mia leaned against the doorway to the bathroom, praying Bronson understood her actions, hoping he’d realize just how much she did love him.

      “I replayed that conversation over and over in my head for years,” she went on. “I still do. If I’d kept my mouth shut, kept my mother’s secret, they’d still be alive. I vowed that day that I would never tell another secret. And I haven’t. I love you, Bronson, but if you can’t understand and forgive me for not sharing Anthony’s secret with you, then I don’t know if there can be a future for us.”

      Before he could say anything, Mia turned to the bathroom and shut the door. With shaky hands she dropped the gown into the laundry bin and redressed. She wanted to be with Bronson more than anything, but this battle he waged with himself could not be part of their relationship … if they had one left to salvage.

      In her heart, Mia believed all was not lost and Bronson still cared. Somewhere beneath his rage and torment, he cared, more than likely even loved her. She had to believe, to hold on to that love because it was the single weapon she had to use to keep this family alive.

      She smoothed her Victoria Dane custom-designed sundress over her rounded belly and opened the door. Bronson was nowhere to be found, and the pictures of the baby were lying on the counter near her purse.

      Mia slid a finger over the picture of the baby’s face and vowed to do everything in her power to keep this baby in a stable, loving home, no matter what the future held for her and Bronson.

      She only hoped her plan to push him away long enough to think and allow him to sort out his feelings about his upturned life would pay off. For both her and their baby.

      Bronson made a late-night trip to his mother’s house. After seeing the baby on the ultrasound earlier in the day, he’d done nothing but think about his mother and the decision she’d made decades ago.

      That’s not true. He’d also thought of the hurt he’d seen in Mia’s eyes. Bronson knew there was nothing more she wanted than her own family, but he wasn’t here to be part of a fairy tale. This wasn’t a script, this was his life, and he honestly had no clue what the ending would be.

      He found his mother sitting in the formal living room, reading. The timeless Hollywood icon sat with her legs folded beneath her on a white chaise. An oil painting of a young Olivia holding her first Oscar hung on the wall opposite the doorway. His eyes traveled from the portrait to the woman, a smile spread across his face. Not much had changed. His mother had truly grown more graceful with the years.

      “Mom.”

      Startled, Olivia jerked her head toward the door. “My heavens, you scared me.” She set her book, open side down, over her leg. “I’ve been waiting for you to come back once you had time to think.”

      Bronson moved into the room, too restless to sit, too exhausted to pace. There was no happy place for him lately—except when he’d seen the baby on the screen.

      “We’re having a girl,” he blurted out.

      Olivia clasped her hands together. “Oh,

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