Page 115 of The Contract Marriage

My chest ached. I wished I could be inside, but I knew better. Despite what Olivia said, she didn’t want that. Not really. She was honest with Simon when she didn’t know I was listening. All the texts she sent… She just wants to…

I don’t even know what she wants with me anymore. I can’t figure out what I’m supposed to be in her life because husbands aren’t supposed to be disposable, are they? Not so coldly, anyway. What about our baby? Will she still want them after she gets her mother’s inheritance? Is my presence going to remind her that the baby was created with a man she couldn’t care less about?

I won’t be able to bear it if Olivia regards the baby the way she does me.

Silas gives a loud and very ostentatious sigh. “You could’ve just manned up and gone in there with her. Women are very emotional when they’re pregnant. All sorts of hormones erupt and they can’t control anything.”

Ignoring him, I look at my phone screen. Her saying that she wanted me to come home, or that she missed me, or any of those things…

I stare at her texts, then start typing a response. I miss you, too. Can you give us a chance? Or are we just over? Can you love our baby at least? Please? But before I can hit send, I delete everything.

All her nice texts are probably just hormones and guilt talking, not her.

You know that isn’t true, my mind whispers.

The thought only drags down my mood. She’s always been clear on what she wanted. I’ve never met a woman more clear-headed than Olivia. I admire her for it, but at the same time I resent her a little, too.

I wish she could be just slightly less driven, a bit weaker in her resolve. If there were a hundred steps between us, I’d take all hundred. All she’d have to do is crack open the gate—I’ll do the rest.

“Come on. Let me hear the baby’s heartbeat. It’s my second nephew or niece,” Silas says.

“Technically. But you may never get to hold it.”

“What? Why not?” Silas stares at me like I just told him he has a permanent case of erectile dysfunction.

“It’s going to be her baby. It will take the Whitmore name—one hundred percent hers.” At least I hope she wants the baby to be all hers, even if it means I may not get to spend much time with them. I don’t want them to experience the pain of being tossed aside by their own mother.

Silas slaps the countertop. “That’s bullshit. Did you talk to Jeremiah about this?”

“No. I used Samantha Jones, because Olivia’s lawyer is Prescott.”

His jaw slackens. “Wait, so you gave up Jeremiah?”

I shrug. “Conflict of interest.”

“For God’s sake, you’re so whipped. Jeremiah’s like the mother we never had. She would’ve made sure you could be around your baby!”

“I think Prescott is probably like the father Olivia never had.”

Silas shakes his head. “Want me to act as a mediator or something? I’m sure if you and Olivia can just talk, you can—”

“Don’t you fucking dare!”

He stares at me like I’m insane.

“Just don’t. You’ll make it worse. I don’t want anybody trying to get us to talk.” Because what’s broken between us isn’t due to talking. It’s that I love her, and she doesn’t feel the same way.

I sigh, deflating until I end up half-draped over the counter again.

Silas snorts. “You look like Dalí’s melting clock.”

I wish I could go back in time, before Hugh, Deena and Brielle hurt Olivia. Then maybe she wouldn’t look at the world like a porcupine with its spines raised. Or at least she wouldn’t do it with me.

Silas studies me for a moment. “I’m going to make you some jam to cheer you up. You’re depressing the shit out of me.”

I shoot him a wan smile. “Thanks. That sounds…really great.”

I feel the weight of my brother’s worried gaze but ignore it, because not even a metric ton of his jam could fix what’s broken in my life.