It is Yours...

"Who is it?" Ethan demanded, voice sharp as steel, still gripping Nadine's wrist.

She froze, eyes wide, caught completely off guard by the question.

"Who's the bastard that had the balls to get you pregnant?"

Nadine's face darkened instantly. "That's none of your damn business. Let me go," she snapped, yanking her arm but Ethan held on tighter.

"I'm asking one more time. Don't push me. Who is he?" His voice was low, cold, and dangerously steady.

Slap.

Her palm landed hard against his cheek. Ethan's head jerked slightly from the force. He blinked, stunned, one hand slowly rising to touch the sting on his skin.

"You absolute piece of shit," Nadine spat. "You want to know who did this? You want to know who's responsible?"

Ethan stared at her, confused, still trying to process the slap, when she leaned closer and hissed.

"This is on you. All of it."

She turned and stormed off, leaving him rooted there, looking like a complete idiot. If humiliation could kill, he'd be a chalk outline on the supermarket floor.

But he didn't let her get far.

Ethan ran after her, grabbed her wrist again, spun her around. "What do you mean, this is my fault?" he said, trying and failing not to sound panicked. "What the hell does that mean?"

Nadine looked at him like he was the dumbest man alive. Her fists clenched. Her teeth gritted.

"What does that mean?" she echoed, voice trembling. "Seriously?"

"I'm just trying to understand," he said more gently now. "I know I crossed a line back there. I lost it. I shouldn't have grabbed you like that, or said what I said. I'm sorry, okay? I know this isn't my place."

There was silence for a beat.

Then she broke it.

"It's yours," Nadine snapped. "Yours. Goddamn it!"

Time froze.

Ethan's hand dropped. He stepped back like she'd physically hit him again. He looked at her like she'd spoken in another language.

"No," he said slowly, shaking his head. "No, that's not… That's not possible."

"What do you mean 'not possible'?"

"I mean, I used protection," he said, almost pleading. "That night, I swear... I used protection. There's no way that kid is mine."

"It. Is. Yours," Nadine said, her voice icy and controlled.

He stared at her.

"You seriously think the baby you're carrying is mine?" Ethan asked, eyeing Nadine with pure disbelief.

When Nadine didn't respond right away, he took a step closer, voice low but sharp. "Like, seriously seriously? You're not messing with me right now?"

The disbelief in his tone was impossible to miss. He wasn't yelling. He wasn't even angry just stunned. Stuck between denial and trying to make sense of it all.

The hell with him. Nadine felt rage bubbling up like boiling water under her skin.

"This baby is mine," she shot back sharply, putting extra emphasis on the word mine because clearly, Ethan wasn't ready to claim what was his.

She couldn't believe he was this uncertain. This… hesitant. It made her regret ever telling him the truth. Maybe she should've lied. Said she was married. That the baby belonged to her nonexistent husband. But no, she couldn't do that. She wouldn't let her pride turn her unborn child into some secret.

Ethan stepped closer. Too close. She could smell the lavender and musk from his cologne, something clean and expensive and completely infuriating.

"You're really sure?" he asked, eyes scanning her face like he was trying to read the fine print on a bad contract.

Nadine gave him the fakest smile she could muster. "No. I'm joking."

And just like that, he exhaled in relief.

Relief.

It hit her like a slap. Her heart lit up with heat, and before she could stop herself, she exploded.

"Are you serious? Are you actually insane? What kind of woman do you think I am? Some escort? Someone who just sleeps around with anyone who has a d*ck? Wow. If you don't believe me, fine. I honestly don't give a damn."

Ethan looked stunned. His pretty face practically begged to be punched, but she restrained herself, barely. Violence wouldn't fix this.

"Fck, fck, f*ck!" he cursed under his breath, turning away from her like the words might disappear if he didn't face them. "No way," he muttered, still deep in denial.

Nadine scoffed and turned on her heels, making her way back to the entrance, the exact spot where she and the guy had collided. By the time she got there, a security guard had already gathered her scattered groceries into a neat pile.

"Miss, these are yours," he said, handing them back with a polite nod.

She mumbled a quick "Thanks," still fuming, as she clutched the bag. Just her luck, humiliation and chaos, all in under five minutes.

"I'm sorry," Ethan said quietly as he followed Nadine toward the parking area. His steps were slower now, hesitant, like he wasn't sure if he should be following her at all.

His voice actually sounded… sincere. "I didn't mean to say it like that. I just, I used protection that night. I swear I did. So… I just don't see how it could be mine."

Nadine didn't look at him. Didn't say a word. She just clutched the grocery bag tighter, jaw clenched.

Typical. Coward. Asshole.

Expressionless, she looked at him. "You do know that using protection doesn't guarantee anything, right?"

Ethan didn't answer. He just froze.

"If you don't believe me, that's fine. I'm not asking you to step up. I just thought you should know," she said, picking up her pace, desperate to put distance between herself and Ethan.

The truth was, she never planned to tell him. If they hadn't run into each other, she would've kept it to herself. But the second he started blaming her, accusing her, something inside snapped.

Ethan's face twisted into something between guilt and frustration.

"Who said I don't believe you?" he said, voice low. "If this baby is mine, I'll take responsibility."

Wait, what? No.

"You don't have to do anything," she said quickly, almost reflexively.

Nadine came to an abrupt stop. Her steps halted as if her body betrayed her words. Ethan stopped too, just a few feet behind her.

"What do you mean? If the baby's mine, I should be involved."

Nadine couldn't help it. She laughed. Mocking. Exhausted.

"Oh, now you're sure it's yours?" she shot back. "Weren't you just denying it like two minutes ago? So which one is it? Pick a lane."

He stared at her, unreadable. Then, out of nowhere, he extended his hand toward her.

She blinked. What the hell was he doing?

What does he want me to shake it? Is this a weird truce thing?

She raised one brow, clearly confused.

Ethan sighed. "Your phone."

"What for?"

But she still handed it over. Why, she had no idea. He typed something quickly, then pulled out his own phone as it buzzed in his pocket.

"That's my number. We need to talk. Somewhere private. I'll text you the details. Tomorrow. Noon. Can you make it?"

Nadine hesitated. Then nodded. She didn't have a choice. He was the father of her child. Whether she liked it or not.

Later that night, she lay in bed, staring up at the ceiling, one hand resting over her belly. The supermarket scene kept replaying in her mind like a bad movie she couldn't pause.

Then her phone lit up.

Ethan:

Meet me tomorrow at Terrazza, the private dining room at Casa Del Mar in Santa Monica. Noon. I'll be waiting.

Nadine set the phone back down and gently rubbed her belly.

"Let's just hope your dad and I survive that conversation tomorrow, huh, baby?"

***