I knew exactly what was wrong with me.

It was ironic that I was at a wedding when I realized it. Lake’s aunt and the private investigator she hired to uncover her sister’s death had taken the plunge and married so soon after knowing each other.

“Sheldon?”

When I looked up, I was met with sparkling, turquoise gems staring back at me with worry etched all over picture-perfect features. I tried to answer and pretend everything was okay. I really did, but instead, I turned for another round of emptying my guts.

This couldn’t be happening.

I denied and rationalized it over and over in my head, but each time I felt my stomach turn and my head swim, I came closer to admitting the reality of my fucked up truth. I didn’t realize I was choking until I felt gentle hands pull me from the floor to sit on the couch. Who puts a couch in a bathroom anyway?

“Lake, I don’t know what I’m going to do.” She rubbed my back and waited patiently for me to continue. It was the only thing I could think to say. I didn’t realize how upset I’d made her until I heard her own sniffle and realized she was crying with me.

“Tell me what’s wrong so I can help you.”

Her panic sparked my own again. “Oh, God, Lake… he left.”

She visibly relaxed although she still wore a worried look. “It’s going to be okay, Sheldon. I’m sure he’s okay.”

“It’s not that,” I whispered low. My fear amped with each passing second. Once the words were out, I wouldn’t be able to take them back. It would become real.

“What do you mean? What is it?”

I needed this to be a dream. I shook my head before turning to look her in the eyes. “I’m—

The door burst open before I could finish, and Keiran stormed in looking pissed. I hadn’t realized just how much time had passed and the lingering threat that had almost gotten them both killed.

He spotted Lake sitting on the chair.

If I didn’t admit it now, I may never.

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.