Almost two weeks had gone by since I’d learned that I was pregnant, and I still hadn’t told Justin. I knew I had to, and I was growing more anxious about it with every day that passed. It was wrong, and I knew it.

But I couldn’t bring myself to tell him. I was already worried about what he thought of me being a mother, and dropping this kind of info on him was beyond the pale.

Not to mention the possibility that he could always decide that he didn’t want to be a father, like Brad had. Justin didn’t seem like the type to do me wrong like that, but then again, neither had Brad.

I imagined Justin listening to me as I told him the news, his face blank and impassive. Then, with a cold, bloodless tone, he’d tell me that this wasn’t something that he signed on for, that our relationship was over, that his lawyers would be in touch.

What if he pulled some kind of legal magic that allowed him to get out of having to take responsibility for the baby? He was a billionaire—that was more than enough money to do legal tricks that would leave me high and dry. Hell, all it’d really take was for him to run through the little bit of savings I had from the show.

I wondered if he would really do that, if he had it in him to be that kind of man. Justin was a good businessman, but I had no idea if he could be cold and uncompromising.

Sooner or later, I was going to find out. Sooner or later, I was going to have to tell him.

But when?

“Hey,” said Justin, snapping me out of my trance as I stood on the balcony, my hands wrapped around a cup of coffee as I stared off into the distance.

I mumbled something in response, barely cognizant of him speaking.

“Hey, Heather,” he said, approaching my side. “Earth to Heather.”

“Hmm, huh?” I said, coming back to the real world as he waved his hand in front of my face.

He regarded me with a confused expression.

“You okay?” he asked. “You looked like you were a million miles away.”

“Yeah,” I said. “Fine. Just...thinking about things.”

I wished I hadn’t said it as soon as the words left my mouth. Justin had to know there was something important on my mind that I wasn’t telling him. I was getting sloppy—I was sure I’d slip up eventually and make it clear I was hiding something.

“Well,” he said. “I was doing some thinking, too.”

My eyes went wide, and I snapped my head in his direction.

“You were?” I asked, a frantic tone my voice. “About what?”

“Easy there, tiger,” he said. “Was just wondering if you wanted to go get some dinner tonight. The chef down at Blanc’s told me that he’s trying a new menu and could squeeze us in at a private table if I wanted. Thought it sounded fun.” A beat of silence passed. “What did you think I was going to say?”

“Nothing,” I said. “Just feeling kind of on edge today. Like, anxious for no reason.”

“I know the feeling,” he said. “And trust me—when you’ve got out-of-nowhere anxiety like that, the worst thing you can do is sit around dwelling on it. Come on, we can get a sitter for Faye then go get some good food. That and a little wine will get you feeling right as rain.”

Wine did sound absolutely heavenly. But I was pregnant—no more booze until baby number two was born.

“Sure,” I said. “Let me go put something nicer on.”

“There you go,” he said. “Ready when you are.”

He leaned in and gave me a kiss on the cheek before heading back inside.

Alone on the balcony once again, I took a long, deep breath, telling myself that I needed to calm the hell down.

Justin was right—a night out would be better than sitting around and stewing in my own anxiety. Sure, it wouldn’t solve the long-term problem of telling him the news, but it would help for tonight. All I had to worry about was coming up with an excuse for not being able to drink.

I went to the bedroom and threw on some nicer jeans and a fitted, pink blouse. Blanc’s wasn’t super-fancy, so I didn’t need to dress up. Once I was ready. I regarded my reflection in the mirror, standing to the side and imagining how I’d look in just a few months’ time.

“Okay,” I said, coming back to the living room. “Ready when you are.”

Right at that moment, the elevator doors opened, the smartly dressed, young woman who would be looking after Faye appearing. She greeted us with a professional “hello” before going to check in on Faye. I still couldn’t get over how unbelievably convenient having on-call sitters was. I didn’t like to use them too much, but they were perfect for nights like tonight.

We said our goodbyes to Faye and the sitter before stepping into the elevator. Soon we were outside, Justin taking my arm and leading me down the streets of the West Village. As we walked, I considered how never in my life did I ever think I’d be with a man like Justin, living in a neighborhood like this. Sure, I didn’t officially live at his place, but Faye and I had been staying there so often that it might as well have been the case.

And then I realized how, with one sentence, one revelation, it could all vanish. I’d be the same lonely, struggling single mom I was before.

We soon arrived at Blanc’s. The restaurant was a stylish, trendy place with wood tables and young, attractive servers. The owner greeted us and led us to our table, which was all the way in the back in a cozy, private little nook.

Once we were seated, Justin snatched up the wine list.

“I hope you’re in the mood for some duck wine,” he said, his eyes on the list. “Because I talked to the sommelier here a week or so ago and convinced him to put in on the menu.”

“I don’t know if I’m feeling alcohol tonight,” I said. “I’m feeling kind of funny.”

It was a lame excuse, but it was the best I could come up with. I never was a good liar.

An expression of concern crossed his face.

“Are you okay?” he asked. “I wouldn’t have asked you to come out if I knew you were under the weather.”

“It’s not that bad,” I said. “But I think I want to play it safe tonight.”

He reached under the table and gave my leg a squeeze. Damn, how I loved his touch.

“Okay,” he said. “Just don’t feel like you need to fib on my behalf.”

I gulped. He had no idea how true his statement was.

The waiter arrived and let us know about the specials. Justin ordered the porterhouse, and I ordered the duck.

“If I’m not going to drink it, at least I can eat it,” I said with a smile.

“Atta girl,” he said.

We worked our way through the appetizers, then the main courses. I was hungrier than I thought and ended up absolutely devouring my food. The plate was soon clean, and I made sure to sop up the last bits of juices with a slice of perfectly toasted bread.

After the main courses, we had a dessert of pear tarts, which were positively divine. Justin was right—a night out was what I needed to calm down.

But as soon as the plates were taken away, the coffee was served, and the bill was brought, the same tensions returned.

There was no getting away from the truth. I was pregnant and no amount of fancy meals out would change that. And each day that passed would bring me closer to a point when my pregnancy would become obvious.

I wrung my hands under the table, knowing that I needed to say something.

“You okay?” asked Justin. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

I turned to Justin, and the words tumbled out of my mouth.

“I’m pregnant.”