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“What are we doing here?” I ask, choosing to ignore her trip down misery lane.
“You’ll see.” She turns on her heels and saunters down the street, expecting me to follow.
I’m faced with two options. I can turn the other way and tell her to shove it, or I can follow. The masochist in me chooses the latter.
Keeping my distance, I stroll behind with my head dropped low, as I’m afraid of whom I might see. I don’t know what it is,but she has a true, regal bearing about herand even the rudest of New Yorkers step aside to make room for her. It could be most of them are checking out her fuller tits thanks to the seed of evil fermenting in her stomach. Whatever it is, they all need their heads checked—mine included.
“Here we are,” she declares, stopping in front of a shoe store.
I look up and scowl. “I draw the line at being your foot model.”
She laughs softly. “No, silly.” Before I have a chance to step away, she turns my cheek to the left. This time, I fucking scowl when I read the store name.
Babylicious.
“I amnotgoing in there,” I spit out, removing her hand from my face.
She looks genuinely hurt by my refusal. “Why not? I thought you’d want to be a part of this.”
“Well, you thought wrong. Very wrong,” I add, shaking my head animatedly. She wanted to meet up so we could go shopping forbaby clothes? Is she fucking nuts? Looking at my current predicament, I know the answer is hell yes.
If this isn’t mixed signals, then I don’t know what is. First, she claims she only wants me to fuck her. And now, she wants me to play Daddy to her child? I have no idea what she wants.
“Dixon, this babyisyour child.” She cups her tiny bump while I feel bile rising.
“How do I know that?” I question, feeling my cool slowly eroding away. “Quite frankly, I have my doubts that you even know who the father is.”
She steps back, appearing hurt by my claims. “Regardless of what you think of me, Iwasfaithful to you. Unlike you, I never cheated.”
I scoff, as now I’ve heard it all. “Cheated would imply we were in a relationship. We never were. We were fucking. That’s all.” I don’t know how many times or ways I can tell her this before it sinks in because it obviously hasn’t worked thus far.
“Keep telling yourself that,” she smugly replies, folding her arms across her chest. “Yes, I’ve been seeing Dylan on and off—” Just the mention of his name has me gnashing my teeth in rage. “But the entire time I was with you, I was withyou, and you only. You can deny it all you want, but it is your baby whether you like it or not.”
“Or not.”
Her little speech has not softened me in the slightest, but I can’t deny that a small part of me believes her. This is the first time since this ordeal started that I actually believe she’s telling me the truth.
Well…fuck.
I’ve never given much thought to being a father. I mean, how could I? What kind of role model would I be?
“You need to abort this abomination immediately,” I declare, realizing this is the only humane future I could ever offer this child.
“What?” Her hands flutter over her stomach protectively. “But it’s our child.”
“It’s a monster!” I rebuke angrily, not bothering to camouflage my tone. The best thing about New York is that New Yorkers don’t care what’s happening around them. “Why the fuck are you doing this? What do you want from me?”
“I wantyou. I always have,” she replies, taking a step toward me. Appearing the sincerest that I’ve ever seen her, she confesses, “Is it such a crime that I…love you? I want to be normal. And I want that normalcy with you.”
I actually choke on her admission.
She loves me? Since when? She doesn’t know the first thing about love, and quite frankly, I call bullshit. This is just her way of manipulating me into doing what she wants. She wants every male in her life begging at her feet, worshiping the ground she walks on. To get my, Dylan’s, her father’s, and God knows who else’s affection makes her feel like she’s in total control. We’re all just pawns in her narcissist game, fueling her need to be loved, and to be loved by all.
Slipping off my sunglasses, I glare at her. “I think I’ve made my feelings for you perfectly clear.”
Her genuine mask slips and in its place, lies the real Juliet Harte I know. “Have you forgotten I could break you?” Her face contorts evilly.
I snicker, powerless to hold back my spite. “And that right there proves that you don’t love me. A person who’s supposed to love someone doesn’t blackmail them. I’m done.”
