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“I’m pregnant and . . .”
“And what, Bria?” His question rings with worry, and he’s halfway in an upright position when I mutter.
“I’m having twins.” He drops back and scratches his chin.
“Twins, are you sure?”
“She just confirmed it, Alex.”
Alex returns the phone to his ear and says, “Congratulations, you stubborn ass, you’re having twins. You could have been here in person, but no, you’re too busy feeling sorry for yourself instead of being here for your wife and babies.”
He hangs up, lifts me off the ground with his embrace. I’m crazy happy. He calls Sophia right away, and her screams pierce our eardrums for the second time.
I place my hands over my belly and let the feeling of absolute love invade me. We reach Alex’s place and Sophia rushes to us. She cries when I show her the picture of my two miracles.
I also call Filip, who keeps repeating, “I’m going to be an uncle.”
I don’t call our parents yet because I want to tell them at the same time in person.
Hours later, I still haven’t heard from Damien. I return to our apartment and I let the view of a snow-coated Central Park lull me into dreaming of my babies.
I expected he’d react as he did, but it still hurts, and I breathe through my rising anger at him. At last, the door clicks open. His steps falter and stop at the edge of our bed, but I pretend to sleep.
It’s dark outside and inside.
Chapter Thirty-Eight
DAMIEN
I wander alone through a city that shrouds me in anonymity. I’m glad I can hurt in peace. When I was at the lowest point in my life, no one saw the wrecked me except for Chloe and my family. In everyone else’s eyes, I was living my best life. I had to keep up the perfect image and not allow the outside to find out what was really happening inside.
She will be the death of me. I can’t even be mad at her for long, I am just utterly frustrated. I try to calm myself, only my woman could forget to take her birth control pill, call it a fucking déjà vu.
I’m angry at myself for not being with her the first time she heard the babies’ heartbeats and saw their tiny frames. I would have killed Alex if he’d entered the room with her, although I’d never admit it.
Darkness greets me as I step inside our home. I tiptoe to the bedroom and find her curled up on her side and drag a hand through my hair.
Does she really think she’s fooling me? I know when she’s asleep or faking it in the way her little breaths deepen, and her face relaxes into an angelic beauty. But this is her way of saying fuck you to me.
We have some unfinished business to address first. But afterward, I hope to feel her writhe in pleasure under me and watch her fall asleep for real, beside me where I can keep her safe and loved.
“You aren’t asleep, wife. Please stop pretending.” She rolls over and sits upright, her face tilted to the side, her finger tapping on her lower lip.
“It should have been a clear sign that I don’t want to talk to you.”
“Hear me out,” I plead and approach the bed.
She fumes, bends forward and says, “Was it the ‘fuck you’ intake of air or was it the ‘screw you’ of my body language that gave me away?”
I sit on the end of the bed and prop my elbow on my knee, my gaze fixed on her.
“It was the ‘Oh, baby, although you’re a douchebag, I can’t go to sleep with something between us.’ Your rule, wife.”
“Technically, I can go to another room, and then there won’t be any rules broken.”
“Technically, but we both know you married an ass, so no, we’re staying here and talking it out.”
She dips her head at me, unshed tears swimming in her hazel eyes, and I lose any desire to fight when the woman I love suffers. I have to change my tactic and make her understand that I’m hurting too.
