A Very Daddy Christmas (Lucky Lady Reverse Harems)

Chapter 12

12

Cora

B y morning, my decision is made. It’s half-hearted, at best, yet I must go through with it, for everyone’s sake. The guys are already awake and showered, gathered downstairs in the kitchen for breakfast. I get myself and Dario ready, as well, then we both head down to join them.

The breakfast corner looks magnificent.

“Wow, you guys went all out,” I say, taking my seat after setting Dario up at the table. I prepare his plate with a little bit of everything.

“Bacon!” Dario exclaims, and it’s the first thing he digs into, making everyone laugh.

“Get all the energy you need for school,” I tell him. “You’re going to need it.”

Sebastian gives me a curious look. “Big day?”

“It’s photo day, and you know the kids will be running around, giving their teacher a hard time about staying clean and unruffled,” I reply.

Dario whips out a bright smile, prompting Waylan to lovingly tousle his rich, brown hair. “That’s the smile of a champion, right there!”

My decision weighs heavily as I try to power through breakfast. I struggle to get food down without having to dodge the lumps in my throat. I keep my game face on as I observe each of the men, reading their expressions, over analyzing every gesture, listening carefully to every word.

At one point, Dario pushes his plate away. “I’m done. It was really good.”

“It’s okay if you can’t finish the rest. I can pack you some for lunch if you want?” I ask.

He nods enthusiastically. “All the bacon, please!”

“All the bacon it is, then,” I chuckle softly. “Now, go wash your hands please. Waylan is taking you to school today. I need to be at the bakery as early as possible.”

Waylan looks at me. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah, I just have a really big order to get ready for this weekend.”

I know that sounded like a lie. It is a lie. Nothing is okay, and the more I linger in all of this uncertainty, in the fear of losing everything, the more it will hurt when the inevitable does happen.

Once Dario is upstairs washing his hands, I have a moment to address my dreaded issue.

“It’s not going to work,” I announce.

The guys aren’t done with their breakfast yet. Riggs is in the middle of adding more fruit to his plate, but he stops to stare at me. I’ve barely touched my food. Nausea threatens to make things worse, but I take a sip of orange juice to quell it.

“What’s not going to work?” Riggs questions.

“This thing between us,” I reply. “It’s not going to work.”

“Cora, what’s going on?” Sebastian asks.

“There’s too much happening all at once, and the risks we’re taking… I can’t handle it. I don’t want to feel responsible when it all goes to hell. Because, let’s face it, this will blow up in our faces.”

“I disagree,” Waylan replies. “We’ve been careful.”

“And the fact that we have to be careful is part of the problem. I’m sorry. I should’ve been more adamant about it at dinner last night.”

“What are you suggesting, then?” Riggs asks, his brow furrowed.

I think he already knows the answer, as does Sebastian and Waylan. They just want to hear me say the words out loud. It’s killing me, but it’s like pulling a band-aid off—it’ll hurt for a moment, but the wound will eventually heal.

“I think we should draw the line here and end it before it’s too late, before we’re in too deep. Keep it professional,” I say, having rehearsed the words in my head over and over prior to coming downstairs for breakfast. They sound so ugly coming out of my mouth. “I’m thankful for everything, for every moment we’ve had together. But I’d like to stick to the terms of my contract. I’ll take care of Dario until you finish your Urban Parkour campaign. That’s it.”

The silence that follows hits me the hardest.

Sebastian sets his fork down and takes a deep breath before he looks at me. The disappointment in his piercing blue eyes is simply too much to bear.

Tears gather in mine.

“Is that really what you want Cora?” he asks.

I nod slowly. “It’s what has to happen for everyone to be safe.”

“Safe?” Riggs replies.

“Safe, until the storm passes,” I clarify. “I know it’s not what you want to hear, and honestly, it’s not what I want either, but it’s what has to be. For Dario, for my bakery, for everyone involved. There’s too much at risk.”

“Okay, Cora,” Waylan cuts in, visibly annoyed. “If that’s what you’ve decided, we can’t stop you. We’ll keep it professional.”

“Waylan, please, don’t be mad—”

“I’m not mad. I’m being professional.” He sits up, every gesture abrupt and determined to brush off the discomfort I know he’s feeling. “I have to go get ready as well. We don’t want Dario to be late.”

I watch him leave the room, his steps as heavy as my heart.

Sebastian takes another deep breath, releasing it slowly. “We can’t stop you, Cora. We’ll respect your wishes. But don’t think for a second we won’t intervene if you run into any more trouble with St. James and Hamilton.”

“I don’t like this,” Riggs says. “It feels like you’re bailing out.”

“I am,” I shudder as I get up, my knees weak. “I am bailing out, and maybe you don’t understand any of this right now. But someday, you will.”

Riggs gives me a hard look. The pain in his eyes is real. It cuts through me like a knife. “Oh, but I do understand. I just don’t like it.”

“I’m sorry,” I mumble and dash out of the kitchen.

As I reach my bedroom, the nausea that had been unfurling in the pit of my stomach crawls its way up my throat. I hit the bathroom and lose what little breakfast I ate into the toilet.

It’s just another sign that this is all too much right now.

I hate doing this, but I keep telling myself it’s better this way.

Even though I know that’s a lie.