A Partridge and a Pregnancy (Holiday Brothers, #3)

by Willa Nash

Wasn’t a home a place where you could escape? Where you could find peace? Maybe she didn’t need four walls to feel at home, but as I pulled into my garage, weight left my shoulders. It was the reason I’d become an architect. Designing houses wasn’t simply making them aesthetically pleasing. It was about creating a sanctuary. It was about giving others the foundation where they could grow roots that ran as deeply as my own.

Kids needed homes. They needed a resting place. They needed roots and routine. I had all of those in spades. Which meant if she didn’t change her mind, I wouldn’t have a choice. Once this baby was born, he or she was coming home to Montana. I stared at my reflection, hating myself so much that I couldn’t hold my own gaze. If Eva was going to fight for London and the next move and the next move, then I’d fight her for my child. And she’d hate me. She’d fucking hate me. But my kid was worth the fight. And I’d just drawn the battle lines with a kiss.

“I don’t want her to stay because I asked. I want her to stay because she wants to stay. Because she wants me.”