“Not always positively, I reckon.”
I step closer to her bed. Not too close. I can’t bridge the gap between us. Not yet.
“We can agree on that.” Her sigh sounds so final. Like she’s giving up—capitulating to a destiny she doesn’t deserve.
The need to take her into my arms is overwhelming.
But I’m still the villain here. She’s so close, and yet… it’s like there is a glass barrier between us.
I can clearly see her exhaustion, her pain, her inner turmoil. I can even see the resignation in her eyes. This is not a surrender I want for her.
I can see all of that, but there is nothing I can do. Nothing to help her through this. Nothing to erase her perception of me.
So I stay on my side of the glass and observe, feeling like the biggest idiot. I have to fix this—if not betweenus, at least for her.
The door opens, and a tall woman, who could be anywhere between thirty and sixty years old, looks up from a chart, giving Roxy a tired smile. “I’m sorry it took us this long, Ms. Moretti. How are you feeling?”
“A bit better. Stronger. Tired.” Roxy returns the doctor’s tired smile with her weak one.
“What’s wrong with her? Is she going to be okay?” I demand, ignoring my common sense, which is trying to remind me I lost the right to ask these questions. I’ve never had it to begin with.
Roxy’s doctor smiles at me with compassion. “You need to make sure she rests.”
“But she’ll be okay?” I press.
The physician turns to Roxy. “Have you been under a lot of stress lately?”
Roxy snorts. “You could say that.”
Fuck. It’s all my fault. If I hadn’t shown up, she wouldn’t be this stressed out.
I hurt her. Not only emotionally. I fucking hurt her physically. I shove my hands into my pockets before I punch something.
“You need to remove yourself from stressful situations. It’s not good for the baby.”
Remove yourself from stressful situations?Roxy has just removed herself from one only to get into another if she pursues her plan to save her sister. Fuck.
Then the words hit me.
Baby?
My eyes land on Roxy, who is staring at the doctor, blinking.
“You’re pregnant?” I blurt out and turn to the physician. “She’s pregnant?”
Because yeah, asking twice would make this any more comprehensible.
“You should leave, Liam,” Roxy says.
The doctor’s smile vanishes as she darts her gaze between us. “Is he not the father? I’m so sorry. I assumed…”
I’m going to be a father. “I’m not going anywhere.”
The words are addressed to the two women, but they are a statement to reinforce all I feel.
Not just about staying here at the moment. About staying. Full stop.
I’m going to be a father. I’m not going anywhere. I’m having a baby.
