He’s right—on all accounts—and I hate it.
“It’s—”
“Mine.”
I sigh, but there’s no point in continuing like this. I’m not going to outright lie.
“It’s yours,” I say, my shoulders slumping as exhaustion pushes my anger to the side. “I haven’t slept with anyone since our night and before then…” I shrug, not willing to tell him exactly how long it had been before that. No need to add to my pathetic-ness. “It’s yours,” I say again.
“Okay,” he says.
“Okay,” I whisper.
“So, I think that brings us back to my other question.”
I lift my brows.
“Are you going to keep it?”
I stare into his deep brown eyes, try to discern what he’s thinking.
Hope that I’ll say no and this will all go away?
Despair that I’ll say yes and now that he’s with someone else it’s going to complicate things?
Fear tinged with the tiniest bit of excitement like what I’m feeling?
I open my mouth…
Then clamp my palm over it and sprint for the bathroom.
Six
Leo
I deliberately avoid the plethora of positive pregnancy tests on the counter, and hold back Harper’s hair as she retches over and over again.
Nothing’s coming up, but she doesn’t stop for long minutes.
When it eventually ceases, she collapses, resting her forehead against her arm, her breaths coming in rapid succession.
“You okay?” I ask, going for another paper towel, dampening it, and pressing it to the clammy skin on her forehead.
She nods so I get up, move into the kitchen, and search until I find a glass, filling it with water.
When I bring it to her, she’s sitting back on her heels, pale as fuck, her eyes closed.
“Here,” I say softly.
Her eyes peel open a millimeter, then she lifts a shaky hand and takes the glass, sipping slowly.
“Okay?” I ask.
A nod.
When she doesn’t drink anymore I take the glass and set it on the tiny vanity then sink down beside her.
“Harp,” I begin.
