Fuck. Less than eight months? Despite knowing how vehemently she might protest, Beau was nearly convinced they would have to move back to America for a few months at least. By the time they came back they could fudge the baby's birthday enough to make it all less scandalous. "Okay," he acknowledged while deep in thought. Conall was going to fucking kill him.

Beau snapped out of his head at her apology, his hand squeezing hers in response. "Don't apologize, Eva. It's alright. We'll be alright." While a baby complicated matters, Beau wasn't disappointed or angry about it. If anything, he was disappointed to have to suggest long term solutions for their otherwise unplanned futures. Eva ran from her last love because they were too settled, Beau didn't know what he would do with himself if she ran from him too.

"Marry you, if you'll let me." Beau responded bluntly. This was not how he ever imagined proposing, but it had to be done. "Figure out a plan that won't have people thinking our kid is a bastard."