Expecting The Billionaire's Baby. Andrea Laurence
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If they couldn’t accept her the way she was, she didn’t want to marry into their family anyway. So what if she wasn’t of the good breeding that Chip thought she was? She was still the same person he had always known. The woman he had proposed to.
As she pulled her car out of the parking lot of the club, she found herself turning left instead of right toward the Pine Valley subdivision where she lived in a French château-inspired home. There wasn’t much to the left, but Cecelia was in desperate need of a stretch of road to drive and clear her mind.
After a few miles, she realized that maybe all this was for the best. Perhaps Maverick was doing her a favor in the end. It was better that she and Chip break up now, while they were still engaged, than to have a messy divorce on her hands. And God forbid they’d started a family. Would Chip reject his own children if he found out that they were tainted by their mother’s inferior bloodline?
Cecelia shuddered at the thought. The one thing she wanted, the one thing she’d always wanted, was a family of her own. She longed for blood relatives whom she was bound to by more than just a slip of paper. People who would love her without stipulations and requirements. Her parents did love her, of that she had no doubt. But the Morgans’ high standards were hard to live up to. She had always strived to meet them, but lately she wondered how they would feel about her if she fell short. Would they still love and protect their perfect Cecelia if she wasn’t so perfect?
As she made her way to the edge of town, she noticed lights on in the distance at the old Wilson House and slowed her car to investigate. She didn’t realize anybody had bought that property. No one had lived in the large, luxurious cabin for several years, but someone was definitely there now.
She wasn’t sure why she did it, but she turned her car down the winding gravel road that led to the old house. Maybe it was Maverick’s secret hideout. There, out front, she spied a fully restored 1965 Corvette Stingray convertible roadster. She knew nothing of cars, but she remembered a poster of one almost exactly like this on Deacon’s bedroom wall in high school. That one had been cherry red—his dream car.
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