I Was Just A Passerby Carrying His Twin Heirs Chapter 23

I Was Just A Passerby Carrying His Twin Heirs Chapter 23

He glanced at me, his lip twitching into the ghost of a smile.

“Yeah. Goodnight.”

The door clicked shut.

I sat there for a while, clutching the blanket.

It carried his subtle, clean scent-crisp and freshly laundered, with no cologne attached.

I buried my face in the fabric.

My heart was hammering against my ribs.

This wasn’t pregnancy hormones anymore.

I knew exactly what it was.

I just didn’t dare explore it.

Because if I let myself go there, I’d stop being the casual passerby who just wanted her $2,800.

I’d turn into an idiot who fell for an untouchable powerhouse.

The

gap

between us was as wide as my checking account balance versus his net worth.

“Josie Miller,” I whispered to myself.

“Get a grip.”

A single line of text floated silently across my vision.

[She’s already lost her grip. And she’s definitely not a passerby anymore.]

Shut your mouth.

A week passed after that night.

Grant showed up one afternoon holding something new.

It wasn’t his usual leather briefcase.

It was two paper gift bags.

He set them on the coffee table and nudged them toward me.

“What’s this?”

Curious, I pulled them open.

Inside were two tiny baby outfits.

Impossibly small.

One was light blue, the other a soft pastel yellow.

The fabric felt as soft as a cloud.

I held them in my hands, staring.

“You bought these?”

“Yeah.”

“You went shopping yourself?”

He hesitated for a second.

“I went with Logan.”

The bullet comment popped right up: [Liar. Logan was just carrying the bags. He stood in the baby boutique for forty minutes picking them out himself. The cashier said she’d never seen a man read fabric tags so

intently.]

I bit back a smile, carefully folding the tiny clothes before tucking them back into the bag.

“Thanks.”

“Don’t mention it.”

He sat at the far end of the sofa, opening his laptop to work.

I leaned back on my side, staring at the paper bags in a daze.

Light blue and soft yellow.

The colors he chose.

For some reason, my nose started to sting.

Must be pregnancy hormones.

Yeah, definitely.

After he left that night, I took the tiny outfits out and laid them beside my pillow.

I stroked the soft fabric over and over.

Then, I gently patted my bump.

“Your dad bought you clothes.”

Kick.

Kick.

“Alright, I get it. Stop kicking.”

I turned off the lamp and curled onto my side in the dark.

In the quiet room, I whispered into the empty air, “Grant… why are you being so good to me?”

No one answered.

I didn’t need an answer anymore.

I already knew it in my heart.

I just wasn’t ready to say it out loud yet.

The next morning, I made up my mind.

I opened my phone and pulled up Grant’s chat.

I typed, erased, and retyped.

I went through at least five drafts.

Finally, I hit send:

“Next time you come over, you can leave the laptop at home.”

I flipped the phone face down on the table immediately, too nervous to look.

A minute later, it buzzed.

I flipped it back over.

Grant replied with a single word.

“Okay.”

Just one word.

I stared at it for three whole minutes, grinning like an absolute fool.

Oh, Josie Miller.

You’re totally screwed.

That $2,800 deal turned into the worst financial decision of your life.

You just threw your whole heart into it.

The final floating line drifted across the screen.

[It’s not a loss at all. This deal is pure profit.]

I stroked my belly.

As if agreeing, the two little ones kicked simultaneously.

Unanimous vote.

Fine.

Guess I’m staying.