Filthy Beautiful Lust (Filthy Beautiful Lies, #3)

“No.”

“Never?”

“Nope.” I’m hopeful that it’ll happen someday, I just haven’t gotten there yet. I’ve been too busy building my career and sleeping my way through the LA singles scene.

“It’s a scary thing – handing your heart over like that. Giving someone the very best pieces of yourself.” Her eyes are far away and she remains staring out at the water as she speaks. “I met Max’s father, Elan, when I first moved to Los Angeles a few years ago. He was quite a bit older than me, thirty-six at the time, already settled and successful. I didn’t know anyone in the city, and he seemed like a safe choice. We dated for about six months, and even though we never talked about our future in the terms of marriage and children, I felt like we were building toward something real and long-lasting. We stayed together every weekend, at either his place or mine. And even though we were careful – I was on birth control at the time – somehow, I got pregnant. I guess they’re serious with those fine print warnings about no birth control method being one-hundred percent effective. I just never thought anything like that would happen to me.”

The urge to reach over and take her hand in mine is nearly overwhelming. I fist my hands in my lap instead and wait for Kylie to continue.

“I was scared when I found out – mostly because it was so unexpected. I was just getting my career off the ground, and my relationship with Elan was still pretty new. I never thought I had to worry about being a single mom, though. I wasn’t scared to tell Elan. He’d never been anything other than loving and kind toward me.” Kylie’s tone tightens at the end, like she has something stuck in her throat.

I hate the direction this story is headed and I hate myself even more for asking and making her relive all these bitter memories. I want to kick myself in the balls for my curiosity.

“I called him over to the apartment I lived in at the time, I didn’t want to tell him over the phone. He came over, playful and curious about what it was that I wanted to say. But the moment the words, ‘I’m pregnant’ left my lips, all playfulness evaporated. His entire demeanor changed. The kind side of him disappeared and was replaced with a man who was suddenly all business. He wanted to know when, how and what I planned to do about it. It took me several moments to understand he wasn’t using the word we. He was asking about what I planned to do. I was on my own from that point forward, it was just me and the little life growing inside of me. I felt sick and hollow. He had put this baby inside me and now he suddenly wanted nothing to do with us. It was a harrowing feeling.”

Kylie’s quiet for a moment and there’s no way in hell I’m probing any further, but I can tell this story is far from over. And I have a feeling it’s going to get even more heart-wrenching before it gets better.

“Elan stopped calling, he stopped responding to my texts and emails. He cut all ties. When I was about six months pregnant, I ran into him at the drug store one night. I had a massive craving for ice cream and ventured out in my maternity pajamas to pick some up. I still cringe thinking about what I must have looked like to him.” She shudders and buries her face in her hands.

Picturing her with a firm, round belly, I see nothing she should feel ashamed about. She’s a gorgeous woman – and while I’m not typically attracted to pregnant women, Kylie with a baby growing inside of her makes my mouth curl into a dopey grin.

“I saw him and some young blonde piece of arm candy,” she continues. “They were buying condoms at the checkout counter. His eyes slid from mine down to my rounded belly and back up again. He made some comment to the sales clerk about using condoms, even when a woman claims to be on birth control. And then he was gone. I hated myself for trusting him with my heart. I hated myself for still missing him. But the most painful thing of all came a few weeks later. His assistant delivered a check for fifty grand and the note inside said that he didn’t want to be bothered with making weekly child support payments, and that I should use the money to start a college savings fund. Which, of course, I did – for Max’s sake – even though I hated accepting that money from him. I’ve had no other contact with him,” she finishes.

“What about when Max was born?” I can’t understand a man who would just walk away from his woman and child – especially this woman. She is so strong and independent and stunningly beautiful.

“Nothing,” she says. “When I went into labor, I called a cab, took myself to the hospital and had the baby.”

“What about your family?” I ask. Surely she has someone to count on when she needs it.

She shrugs. “My parents divorced when I was little. I don’t have much of a relationship with my dad and my mom is…well, she’s always been more preoccupied with living her own life than participating in mine.”

“What’s Elan’s last name?” I ask.

“Why?” she looks up to meet my eyes.

“I want to kick his fucking ass, that’s why.” My chest feels tight and my knuckles are itching to be busted over something – preferably his face.

“It’s okay, Pace. I’m over Elan now. Completely. The only thing that still makes my heart hurt is knowing that one day I’ll have to answer questions from Max about why his own father wanted nothing to do with him.”

“I’m sorry I pried into all of this. I know it’s none of my business.” I feel like a grade-A asshole.

“It’s okay,” she says, digging her bare toes into the warm sand, her sandals long ago kicked aside. “It’s taught me that I need to be better at picking men. A beautiful man with a smooth tongue who says all the right things doesn’t excite me anymore.”

She’s letting me inside, and I appreciate the glimpse at her inner thoughts. Turning to face her, I ask, “What does excite you?”