Page 93 of Her Ex's Father
Chapter 34
Benedict
The morning light spills across the Philadelphia skyline like liquid gold, but all I see is her.
Maddie stirs beside me in the suite’s vast bed, one hand tucked under her cheek, the other resting over the gentle curve of her stomach. My child. Our child. The sight does something to me—something I can’t fully name. A tightening in my chest, a sharp ache that feels half like joy, half like terror.
For three days I’d been empty. For three days I thought I might never see her again. Now, I can’t stop watching her breathe.
When her eyes blink open, hazy with sleep, I have the unfamiliar urge to say something ridiculous. To tell her she’s beautiful. To tell her I don’t deserve this moment. Instead, I clear my throat. “Get dressed. I’ve planned something.”
She groans into the pillow. “You’re not a morning person. Why do you sound like one?”
“Because I want you out of this bed.” I brush my knuckles along her jaw, a small indulgence. “Trust me.”
She lifts her head suspiciously. “Ben…”
“Trust me,” I repeat, and I can’t help the ghost of a smile.
Boyds looks like a cathedral for the well-dressed. Marble floors gleam, brass fixtures catch the light, and racks of designer clothing line the space with military precision. But today, the store is empty. Not a single customer in sight.
Maddie halts at the threshold, eyes wide. “Ben. Did you—did you shut down the entire store?”
“Of course.” I slide my hand to the small of her back, guiding her inside. “You’ve been complaining about feeling… what was it? ‘Huge and gross’?”
Her cheeks color. “I didn’t mean?—”
“I know exactly what you meant,” I interrupt, lowering my voice near her ear. She must’ve said that phrase at least five or six times the night before, especially when she was wolfing down dinner. “But for the record, you’ve never looked more beautiful to me. Still, I thought you deserved some indulgence.”
A woman in a sleek black suit approaches, beaming like a diplomat about to greet royalty. “Mr. Bronson, Mrs. Bronson. Welcome. Everything is prepared.”
Maddie blinks. “Everything?”
“Yes,” the woman says smoothly. “Private fittings, maternity tailoring, custom footwear. Whatever you need.”
Maddie shoots me a look equal parts awe and exasperation. I merely arch a brow.
“This is ridiculous,” she whispers as we follow the woman deeper into the store.
“This is normal,” I counter. “Get used to it.”
The fitting room is larger than most apartments. A plush velvet sofa dominates one corner, mirrors line the walls, and racks of clothing await her.
I drop onto the sofa, stretching my legs. “Go on. Try something.”
She glares at me, then reluctantly lets the attendant usher her behind a curtain.
Minutes later, she emerges in a pale silk dress that clings lovingly to her figure. My eyes follow the way it shadows around her belly, accentuating her bump. She tugs at the hem, frowning. “I look like a blimp.”
I nearly choke. A blimp? The word doesn’t belong anywhere near her. She is radiant. Lush. Every curve, every line, a temptation.
“You look…” My throat works. “Exquisite.”
Her eyes narrow. “You’re biased.” Checking to make sure the attendant isn’t nearby, she adds quietly, “Especially after last night.”
“I’m obsessed,” I correct. “And you’re lucky you made it out of the bed this morning—I thought about keeping you there for quite a long time, Madeline Bronson.”
She laughs, shaking her head, and disappears again.
