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She stares at me. “That’s some deep love and commitment, Jem.”
“I know,” I whisper.
“Do you believe him?” she asks. “He’s not just saying what he thinks you want to hear? He’d actually make good on his promises?”
Every part of me has faith that he would. I press my lips together and nod.
“So, why are you still sitting here?” she asks, searching my face. “Earlier you were excited by the thought of being with him and making more babies, and the man just told you he wants the same thing and that you have his heart by the balls. Do you want the guy or not?”
I run my palms up and down my thighs. “I want him more than I want to.”
Shelby’s perplexed expression remains fixed in place. “I don’t know what that means.”
“I don’t like wanting him so much,” I paraphrase. “It makes me feel… vulnerable.”
“That’s the fear talking. You don’t listen to that. You trust what your heart says.”
“But fear talks louder,” I argue.
Shelby rolls her eyes. “So your heart says,Go home and fuck him, then?”
I give her a pained look. “My head says it won’t work out. He makes me sound like I’m some amazing catch, but I’m not that lovable. Even my own parents aren’t that interested in me.”
Shelby stills. “Look, Jem. You’ve been through a lot, and I can understand why you may not want to trust in love,” she says calmly, “but you have a legitimate chance to create the kind of family you want with the seriously hot and adorably caring man you crave, and you’re finding excuses to not to be happy. You’re being a chicken-shit little bitch, and as your friend, it’s my duty to point that out, in case you can’t see it. If you’re feeling vulnerable, you go home to Gunnar and demand that he loves you in a way that makes you feel strong.”
“He already does.” I fidget with the hem of my borrowed dress. “That’s why I love him so much.”
Shelby gives me a flat stare, then picks up my soda and tips it down my front.
I leap off my chair, and when I finally stop squealing and dancing around from all the ice that went down my low-cut dress, I glare at her.
“You need to go home,” she says with a serene smile. “You’ll thank me in the morning.”
I lift my chin, and try to act dignified as I stand dripping on the barroom floor. “Well played, Shelby Copper.” I give her a shallow bow and collect my purse. “I hate you for doing that, but I know you’re right. Thank you.”
20
GUNNAR
Jem’s front door opens and closes, while I’m stuck on the couch, boxed in by sleeping babies. I don’t want to move and risk waking them when they’ve only just drifted off, so I crane my neck to see if it’s Jem or Shelby.
Please be Jem. Just Jem. And no stupid asshole. Not when I can’t yet escape from my position. I’ll be forced to listen to him fucking her upstairs while I’m covering the kid’s ears so they don’t wake up crying from the noises Jem makes… if he can even make her scream the right way.
If he makes her scream the wrong way, I’ll be up those fucking stairs so fast, he won’t know what hit him.
My right hand automatically curls into a fist, and when Jem comes into the living room alone, my heart pounds with the need to avenge her, but I’m not yet sure who needs the punishment or what I need to protect her from. She looks… wet? But it’s not raining out. Her eyes are red and puffy, and she has a lost-little-girl look on her face that makes me want to wrap her into my arms and make her feel better.
“What happened?” I ask in a gentle voice, even though I feel very ready to inflict pain on whomever upset her. “Are you okay?”
The need to be on my feet and at her side is hard to curb, but my arms are full of babies. I try to lay Jaxon on the couch with one arm, doing my best not to wake him or disturb Viv who’s nearly sound asleep in the crook of my other arm.
They both stir and suckle at their bottle teats but stay peaceful, and I fence them in with pillows tucked tight against them, to keep them from rolling off the couch in their sleep.
I check to make sure they’re safe, and then rise from my crouch and turn to Jem.
She’s staring at me with her big blue eyes full of fear.
“What’s wrong, beautiful?” I ask in my softest whisper. “Why do you look so scared?” I rub at my chest. “Your eyes are making my heart sore. Tell me what’s going on.”
