The Unwanted Wife and Her Secret Twins (Mia and Kyle) novel Chapter 77

Chapter 77 This isn’t a date

Chapter 77 This isn’t a date

**Mia’s POV**

“This is ridiculous,” I muttered, squinting at yet another spreadsheet. Gas lifted his head from his spot by my feet, giving me his signature head–tilt of concern. I lifted him up into my arms. “Gas, look at these numbers. How does a project go thirty percent over budget without anyone noticing?”

Gas woofed softly.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought too.” I rubbed my eyes, trying to make sense of Williams Construction Group’s financial reports. The screen blurred slightly as I’d been at this for hours, and the numbers were starting to swim. “Who knew saving a company would be this complicated, huh?”

And the progress report from its biggest project, now six months behind schedule. I clicked through photos of the half–finished building, noting obvious issues even my limited construction experience could spot. Sloppy work, poor planning, zero oversight.

“If my great–grandmother could know, Great–grandma would have a fit,” I told Gas, who had moved to press his head against my slightly rounded belly. Great grandma built this company from nothing, and now it degraded.

My phone chimed with an automated message:

*Transaction Failed: Payment to Account #4528-9674 (K. Branson) rejected.*

Iclicked into my banking app, confirming what I already knew. The transfer to Kyle’s account, my share of the hospital bills from before the divorce, had been rejected. Again. “What, is my money not good enough for the great Kyle Branson?”

Gas whined softly, picking up on my irritation.

“Sorry, buddy.” I scratched his ears. “Just your former daddy being difficult.” The words stuck in my throat a bit.

I pushed the thought away, pulling up the Children’s Hope Foundation website instead. Fine. If Kyle didn’t want the money, someone else could use it. The donation form was simple enough to fill out, though my fingers hesitated over the amount. It was a lot of money – more than I’d ever had to think about before inheriting Mom’s… everything.

The confirmation email arrived almost instantly:

*Dear Ms. Williams,

Your generous donation of $157,432 will help provide medical care for over 50 children this year. From the bottom of our

hearts…*

“At least someone appreciates it,” I told Gas, who had abandoned my stomach in favor of bringing me his favorite rope toy. “Oh, now you want to play?”

He dropped the toy in my lap, tail wagging hopefully. Hard to argue with that face.

My phone buzzed – Scarlett sending a photo of what looked like the world’s most intense wedding planning session. Her parents and the Mortons sat around a massive table covered in fabric swatches, invitation samples, and what appeared to be three different types of champagne glasses.

*Kill me now*, the caption read. *They’ve been arguing about FONT CHOICES for TWO HOURS.*

I snorted, typing back: *Serif or sans serif?*

*OMG don’t you start! Though since you asked, Mom’s insisting on something called “Copperplate Gothic” because it’s ” timeless.” Which is code for BORING. Save me!

Gas nudged my hand with his nose, still hopeful about the rope toy

*Sorry, dealing with work stuff. You’re on your own with the font wars.*

*Some best friend you are! Fine, abandon me to my fate. But I’m naming the ugliest centerpiece after you!

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Chapter 77 This isn’t a date

I smiled, about to respond when another notification popped up: Dr. Nate Pierce: Free for dinner tonight?*

+25 BONUS

My stomach did a weird flip that had nothing to do with morning sickness. Gas, the traitor, perked up at Nate’s name appearing

on my screen.

“Don’t give me that look,” I told him. “I know you miss your friends but this is complicated.”

He tilted his head, clearly unconvinced by my logic.

I tried to avoid Nate those two weeks. Especially after I found out I was pregnant. I didn’t want to give Nate any possible hints, which would only complicate things. “First of all,” I found myself explaining to my dog, “I’m not ready for… anything. With anyone.” I touched my stoniach instinctively. “And second, he works with Kyle sometimes. That’s just… messy.”

Gas flopped onto his back, apparently done with my rationalizations.

*Sorry, not feeling up to going out tonight*, I typed quickly. *Rain check?*

The message showed as read immediately, but no response came. I watched the three dots appear and disappear at least four times, each pause making my stomach clench a little tighter.

“What do you think that means?” I asked Gas, who had given up on the rope toy and returned to bump his nose against my belly. “The dots thing? That’s weird, right?”

He just sighed, clearly unimpressed with human communication methods.

A car horn answered – three short beeps from the street below. I knew that sound. Knew exactly what I’d find if I looked out the window.

“No way.” But I was already moving to check, Gás trotting happily beside me.

Sure enough, Nate’s ridiculous silver Aston Martin gleamed in the late afternoon sun. He leaned against the driver’s side door in jeans and a light sweater, looking like he’d stepped out of a luxury car commercial.

“Oh, you have got to be kidding me.”

Gas barked once, his tail wagging furiously. Clearly someone was Team Nate.

“This is borderline stalking, you know that right?” I told him, even as I found myself reaching for my keys. “And you’re supposed to be on my side.”

He just grinned his doggy grin, escorting me to the door like he’d appointed himself my personal security detail.

“Fine.” I grabbed my bag, checking my reflection quickly. The loose sweater still hid my small bump well enough, though soon that wouldn’t be an option. “But I’m not changing. And this isn’t a date.”

Gas woofed.

“Whose dog are you anyway?” But I scratched his ears before leaving. “Be good.”

The elevator ride gave me time to second–guess this entire situation. What was I doing? I should text him, say I’m not feeling well, go back upstairs and hide with my spreadsheets and my dog and my complications…

The doors opened before I could follow through on any of hose impulses.

The evening air held just enough chill to justify hugging my sweater closer as I made my way outside. Nate straightened when he saw me, and something in his smile made my chest feel tight.

“This is actually stalking, you know,” I called as I approached. “Like, legally stalking.”

“Only if it’s unwanted attention.” He pushed off from the car, hands in his pockets. “Is it unwanted?”

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