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I'm in the dark now. There are too many possibilities, too many enemies.
Once we're alone, I sit her down, then close the door to give us privacy. “Do you need a drink?”
Her head swings back and forth. “No, not at all.” She runs a hand under her eyes, sniffling. “I'm sorry. I didn’t want it to have to come out this way.”
Every fiber of my being is tuned into every move and breath she takes. I'm utterly helpless to everything that is her. She'll never understand how all that I am and all that I want is wrapped up in her. Some much so that I want to take her and shake her and demand answers—anything so long as I can vent this unbearable tension.
“I’m trying to be patient and understanding, but too many scenarios are running through my head. I’m going to need you to tell me right now,” I grit out, and the way she flinches confirms the strain in every word.
Dropping to one knee before her, I cover her quivering hands with mine. “Whatever it is, I'm here. I want to help. Did you have a fight?” I ask, hopeful that it's something as meaningless as that.
“Not really.” She stares down at our joined hands. “Although she is upset with me.”
“Why? You know how she's been lately. I wouldn't take it personally.”
“It's not like that. She's... I'm...”
“You’re what?” Leaving? Fuck, she's going to tell you she's leaving, because you never deserved her to begin with. She never wanted this. Who could blame her?
The doubt in my mind is a terrifying reality.
“I was afraid to tell you,” she whispers. “I didn't know how you would feel about it, so I didn’t want to tell you yet. Only she figured it out, and now she's mad at me. The last thing I need is for you to be mad or upset too.”
“Mad about what? For God's sake, talk to me. What would I be mad about?” Dear God, don't let it be what I think it is. Don't let her say she's leaving me.
“I'm...” She closes her eyes and exhales a deep breath from her lungs. “I'm going to have a baby.”
It's like a bowling ball to the gut, knocking the air from my lungs. Except instead of pain, there's a rush of relief. I'm almost weak with it by the time I manage to take a breath which I release on a soft laugh. “Oh god, Bianca. Are you really pregnant? We’re going to have a baby?”
“Yes.” Her head bobs up and down, fresh tears rolling down her cheeks and dripping down onto the backs of my hands. “I know you said you wanted one, but saying and actually having are two very different things.”
“Bianca. Shit.” Gathering her in my arms to stroke her hair, I close my eyes and soak in the moment. She's pregnant. My little bird is carrying my baby. Our baby.
“Does this mean you’re happy?” Her question is muffled against my shoulder, but I hear the anxiety in it just the same.
“Happy? I'm overjoyed! Are you kidding?” Laughing, I pull back to take her soft cheeks into my hands so I can stare into her dazzling blue eyes. “This is… it’s everything. I told you I wanted children, and I wasn’t lying. I want this. I want you. I can’t believe you’re growing our baby inside of you.”
“I know, but it's so soon, and then I saw—” Her mouth snaps shut an instant before she averts her gaze, looking toward the window at my back.
“What?” I whisper. “Who did you see?”
“Amanda. She was at the clinic when I went to the doctor. We ran into each other in the lobby, and she said some things. I know she was just trying to get inside my head, and I was trying to remind myself that she’s telling me these things because she hates you. Nonetheless, it didn’t work.”
“What did she say?” I nearly bark the question.
The look of heartbreak on Bianca’s face makes me want to order a hit on Amanda at this very moment. “That you’d want me to get an abortion if you found out because you didn’t want any more children. That the last thing you wanted was to be tied down again.” The anguish in her voice slices me down to the bone.
I’ll kill her. It’s as simple as that.
How long have I told myself I must spare her pathetic life because she’s Tatum’s mother? She’s never been a mother to her, anyway. I could have done Tatum and the world a favor by getting rid of her, but I didn’t. Now it doesn’t seem to matter if she’s alive or dead.
“For one thing,” I speak carefully so I don’t spook her, “Amanda does not have the first clue on how I would feel about anything. She doesn’t know me. You should know by now that she wants me to be miserable, which means making everyone around me miserable by association. Plus, she’s herself, so I’m sure it must make her jealous, knowing you’re going to have my child—a child I very much want, by the way. Just like I want you. I wouldn’t have told you I wanted to be with you if I didn’t want to be with you. Having a child is a bonus that comes with loving you.”
