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“You’re right,” I agreed, jutting my chin up. I looked at him, but just above his head so I didn’t have to make eye contact. I could glare at his general shape and have the same effect. “I’m not a victim here.” I spoke out loud more for myself than him. As a reminder.
“I’m a grown-ass woman capable of taking care of herself and the consequences of her actions,” I said, again more for him than me. “I was crazy enough to agree to marry you, then get into bed with you without protection. I was culpable every step of the way. And I’m strong enough to take the load from here on out. You want to go back to how it was, pretending with everyone else? That’s fine. In fact, I appreciate you still doing it, given the circumstances. It would’ve made things more difficult if you hadn’t wanted to move forward.”
‘More difficult’ was a massive fucking understatement.
“I will do my best to keep this”—I pointed to my flat stomach—“under wraps for as long as possible so we don’t have to deal with the small-town bullshit of it all.”
I wanted to gag thinking about how happy all of the well-meaning residents would be for us. Don’t get me wrong, I liked the happiness, but I hated that it had to be connected to Kip, to a fucking lie.
“I’ll work my way up to pretending that I don’t think the father of my baby is an asshole man-child incapable of growing up or stepping up,” I informed him sweetly. “And I will take the checks every month to ensure I give my child the life it deserves.”
I really would’ve loved to be noble as shit and refuse a red cent from him, but that wasn’t smart. Kids were expensive as fuck, and I wanted to raise a good one, give them a good life. Now, money didn’t always equal a good life, but it did equal good healthcare, a roof over our heads, food, cars, travel, good Christmas gifts—that kind of thing.
And Kip obviously wasn’t hurting for cash since he was a partner in a successful construction business and didn’t have a child to care for in his future.
He almost maybe looked like my words affected him. For a second, at least, until his cold mask settled in. He nodded once.
Then he walked away, in the direction of his room.
I heard the shower going not long afterward.
He was going to live here and sleep back in his room. Despite his presence in the house, I’d never felt more alone in my entire life.
I placed my hand on my stomach.
“I really hope you make it, kid,” I said quietly.
Because the life I had before seemed like it was up in flames, and I found myself already willing to burn everything down for this little thing inside me.
* * *
Nora came to my first doctor’s appointment.
She had been given a somewhat censored lowdown on Kip’s reaction to the pregnancy. I’d tried to play it off the best I could, not because I was trying to save his face but because it got way too complicated otherwise.
Unfortunately, even the censored version of his response got my sweet bestie’s hackles up.
It didn’t help that she had a husband of her own who worshipped her. Who was at her beck and call when she was pregnant, watching her like a hawk, reveling in every second of her pregnancy and not missing a single doctor’s appointment, not even letting her tie her fucking shoes.
Kip’s absence was that much more powerful when measured up against Rowan. Then again, they were different men.
Rowan was a better man.
It was a rather cruel and unfair thought to have, but I was feeling rather cruel and unfair these days.
I knew Nora had a lot to say about Kip, but I also knew she was holding back. I didn’t take her back on a detailed walk down my memory lane, but she’d learned enough to understand the trauma I’d gone through in the past.
And Nora was the most empathetic person I knew. Therefore, she could sense my utter panic sitting in my OBGYN’s office, waiting to be seen.
It didn’t help that the fucking place was full of pregnant women, looking happy and healthy, and all of them seemed to have a fucking husband there. Granted, the men didn’t look all that overjoyed to be there, and most of them were scrolling on their phones, but they werethere.
Ugh.
I needed to snap out of it. This might not even happen. I wasn’t out of the woods yet. There was no point spiraling. I could go in there and the doctors not find a heartbeat.
Maybe that would be for the best.
I tried to convince myself of that. That it would be easier for everyone if this pregnancy ended the same as all my previous ones had. I’d survived it before, and I’d survive it again. That was the benefit of trauma—you knew you’d survive it. You knew you didn’t have much of a choice.
