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One evening, after sorting out the mess Capello made of the loan company, I approach the pool house with a gift, my stomach twisting with dread. It’s been a week since Officer McMurphy made that scene at the gates, and nothing has been the same.
Seeing myself through Emberly’s eyes was the bucket of ice water that snapped me back to reality. The way she rushed to my defense opened my eyes to the depth of her compassion. I’m not worthy of her empathy, let alone her love. After everything she’s suffered, how the fuck can I condemn the woman I love to an unwanted pregnancy?
I enter her little art studio, letting out a cloud of paint and turpentine fumes. Emberly sits hunched over a small canvas with her lips tightened, seeming too focused on her work to even notice my presence.
“What are you painting, baby?” I cross the room and place my arms on her shoulders.
She turns around, her face a mask of calm. “Just a few toadstools that will end up in the larger painting.”
“I brought you a gift.”
“Oh, thank you,” she says, her voice flat.
Frowning at her lack of enthusiasm, I open the box, revealing a wooden mask. “This is for you.”
Her jaw drops. “Is that?—”
“A Roger Thango original. You once mentioned liking his art.”
Her face crumples, and tears run down her cheeks. She stares down at the mask, her breath turning ragged. “You remembered. It’s so beautiful. What did I do to deserve you?”
I place a hand on her arm. “Are you okay?”
“Yes,” she says, her voice choked.
My jaw tightens. This isn’t like Emberly at all. She should be crying happy tears, not looking pained. “Tell me what’s wrong.”
“I just feel weird.” She bows her head.
“You need a doctor?”
She shrugs. “It’s just a period thing, I guess.”
My heart skips a beat. “You need some tampons or something?”
“No, it’s late, and I’m feeling off.”
Dread punches me hard enough to silence a roar of triumph. Massaging the knots out of her shoulders, I tell myself that it’s impossible to knock her up after one try. I know I’m potent, but even that’s a stretch.
“It’s probably stress. A lot of shit has happened this month, it could have thrown off your hormones.”
She gives me a watery chuckle. “What do you know about the menstrual cycle?”
“When all you’ve got is time and the prison library is shit, you’ll read anything, including anatomy and physiology.”
Emberly sets down her brush and stands. I take a step back, giving her space to move. When she gazes up at me, her eyes shine with remorse. “Sorry for being so off recently.”
I shake my head. “Changes in mood are all part of the beauty of womanhood.”
“Did Officer McMurphy have mood swings?” she asks, her brows rising.
“Emberly,” I say with a sigh. “If that woman meant anything to me, I would have invited her to the club the night of my release and would never have met you.”
She lowers her lashes. “I don’t know why I said that.”
My chest fills with warmth. She’s still jealous. That’s an excellent sign. It means she plans on sticking around.
“Come here,” I say.
