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BRANDI
He doesn’t want me.
He never wanted me.
I’m trembling, and there’s nothing I can do about it. My nerves are fried, and the only thing fueling my body at this point is pure adrenaline that I have no chance of fighting off.
It was bad enough that no one noticed I was sitting on the front porch, forced to watch the man I married fighting with his brother over another woman, but to hear him admitthat.
He knew.
Knew I was pregnant.
That’s why he proposed.
Why he married me.
He didn’t even try to hide it.
And now?
Now, Brian knows.
I turn before he can answer and walk back inside, my movements stiff, my body feeling like it belongs to someone else.
God, I am such an idiot.
From outside I hear a car start and drive away, and then the door opens and closes. I knew I wouldn’t be lucky enough for him to leave. But I can’t even get a few minutes without his presence?
“Baby?”
“Don’t.” I can’t stand him right now. Could I ever?
I’m not weak, and that’s what he’s done to me.
He’s made me weak.
Disgusted, I start to plan.
I hardly have enough strength to get the words out over the pain I’m consumed by.
I want to cry and the tears are there, pressing against my lids, but I’m not about to give him the satisfaction.
He stands behind me, close enough to pull me into the embrace I normally crave more than anything. But he doesn’t touch me, doesn’t bother trying to reach for me, and that just makes it all worse. At this point, I’m struggling hard to keep myself together.
A tear slips free and I swipe it away with a savage hand.
“I don’t know what you heard, but—”
“Enough,” I say. “I heard enough to know the truth.” On trembling feet, I manage to step away from him. One, then another, until I feel like I can breathe without tumbling back into his body for support.
Travis sighs and I remember how he used to look at me, like he hated me, like he couldn’t stand to be around me. Until that night, which feels like so freaking long ago at this point. And then I see everything else flash in my mind. The way he’s been, trying to push back, hiding and keeping things from me, and I can’t help but wonder if maybe he doesn’t love me. Maybe I was right to worry about him rejecting me. Maybe I shouldn’t have tried to have a real family. I can’t help but wonder if he resents me and the baby.
If he’d still be here if I hadn’t gotten pregnant.
“That’s not… it’s not… Brandi, please, look just at me.”
It is the soft pleading in his words. The gentle tone that hooks in deep and I take a jagged breath. “I can’t.”
