Page 58 of My Only

Especially standing here, at the start of the biggest project Hassani had ever taken on.

We had never sat down and had a real conversation about children. Not once in all the years we’d been together. Sure, we’d made casual jokes about what traits we hoped our future kids would inherit—his height, my curls, his hazel-green eyes—but that was it. It had always been hypothetical. Wishful.

And yet, those words—but soon—had just left my mouth so easily.

Why?

“Well,” Bryant said, clapping Hassani on the shoulder. “When the time is right, I’m sure it’ll happen. And when it does…” He smirked. “They’ll say their father helped build the village that it takes to raise our future’s brightest minds.”

“Amen.” Hassani nodded.

The Greenes excused themselves shortly after, moving on to mingle with other guests. But their words? They stayed with me.

Children.

Why hadn’t Hassani and I ever seriously talked about children?

We’d been enjoying our marriage, that much was true.

And every time my doctor asked me if I wanted to renew my birth control prescription, I had answered yes without hesitation.

But… why hadn’t I hesitated?

“You okay?” Hassani’s voice pulled me from my thoughts.

I blinked and turned to him as we stood by the makeshift bar, waiting for our glasses of champagne.

“Yeah,” I lied, forcing a small smile. “I’m good. Just really getting high off the energy in here.”

“Word.” He nodded, accepting our glasses from the bartender. “Thank you.”

Hassani handed me my glass and I took a slow sip of champagne, my thoughts still swirling.

I had never thought it before.

Not like this.

And now that I had… I wasn’t sure I was ready for the answer.

Throughout the night, as Hassani introduced me to yet another one of his colleagues with his formal, “This is my wife, Mrs. Ayla Franklin,” my eyes kept drifting to the Greenes. I was so impressed by how protective and attentive Bryant was with his wife. A man who was both a leader and a devoted husband. At times, I almost forgot he was a multi-billionaire because of how visibly affectionate he was toward her.

I couldn’t help but want that.

Not the marriage—I had that. Not the devoted husband—I definitely had that too.

I wanted the baby.

But damn, what a time to want that, right? My husband was about to be involved in the biggest project of his career. The timing couldn’t be worse.

Bryant had said that when the time was right, we’d know. And now wasn’t the right time.

For the next hour, Hassani and I moved through the gallery, stopping to admire the architecture in between his introductions. Amongst his team, I met Jordan Brock, his project manager, whose engagement ring was blinding, and his landscape architect, Levi Weston, along with Levi’s wife, Calese.

“This event is insane,” Calese said, tossing back the rest of her champagne before placing the empty glass on a passing server’s tray. “Thank you,” she added before turning back to me. “I have never in my life. Like, who does this? Bryant Greene, that’s who.”

Calese was so animated, not shy in the slightest. It was refreshing to see someone so down-to-earth in an environment that made me feel out of place.

“You smell so good, Ayla,” she said, her bright eyes moving through my cloud of coily curls next. “And your hair! I’m obsessed.”

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