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Oh God, that’s such a horrible thing to think. I’d trade all the money in the world to have Avraam in my arms every night. I can’t stand to think of our child growing up without a father.
I was going to tell Avraam about the baby, but now I’m not sure. I don’t want to stress him out further, but I also feel like he deserves to know. Maybe he’d keep me safer. Maybe he’d never have left to doGod knows whatin the first place.
But it’s too late. Just like it’s too late to prevent the pregnancy from happening. Just like it’s too late to stop the shooting. And just like it’s too late not to fall in love with Avraam.
I grit my teeth, doing another round through the living room and eying the shotgun like it’s going to swivel around to shoot me at any moment. That thing can only bring suffering. I don’t see how he can stand to have it pointed at his door like this is some kind of game.
Is he sick in the head? I know he’s not supposed to have a gun. He’s a felon. That’s a fucking crime.
I groan. I should’ve known he wouldn’t give up that lifestyle. He got out of prison after twenty-five years and he just went right back to it. What does that say about him?
And what does it say about me, that I’m in love with a criminal?
I’m forced to come to terms with my current reality during my hours alone, and it’s not an easy task. I have plenty of time, but my mind and body are drained by the time I hear the gate open outside.
It had better be Avraam, but I won’t know until he’s punching in the code on the front door.
My stomach twists up in knots as I listen for his footsteps down the hall. He has a particular way of walking, heavy with a slight favor to one foot, and I’ll know it’s him as soon as the elevator comes up.
I put my hand over my belly. I should just keep it like this and hint at my pregnancy, but what difference would that make? If I want him to know, I should take the direct route and tell him.
Or maybe not.
Or maybe…
A small chime by the door tells me that someone has punched in the right code. If it were wrong, I’d have heard the explosive blast of shotgun.
Fucking idiot. He could kill himself by accident and he doesn’t even seem bothered by it. Maybe he wants to die.
“I hope I wasn’t gone too long,” Avraam says as he opens the door. “I brought some groceries. Maybe something you’d like.”
This would be exciting if I wasn’t so terrified. Avraam comes inside with a dozen bags of groceries in one hand, hobbling over to the kitchen with them. The veins in his forearms are massive, and for a moment, I forget what I’m so scared of.
I have a beast on my side, the most powerful man I’ve ever met, and he’s obsessed with me.
But guns beat brawn in the end, and it wouldn’t take much to kill us both. I can’t allow myself to get too comfortable. This isn’t a cute sleepover. This is a ticking time bomb.
“I got cereal. Nothing too sweet, but you’re already sweet enough,” he says from the kitchen.
I wander in with my hand over my belly. I’m not even trying to signal anything to him, but my instinct takes over. I know I’m pregnant and it’s impossible to hide it. It’s only a matter of time before he finds out.
“Orange juice, apple juice, and lemonade. Wasn’t really sure which one you’d drink so I got all of them,” he says before looking over at me.
I stand awkwardly in the doorway, my hand still on my belly as his eyes wander over my body.
He frowns. “Everything alright?”
“It’s… fine,” I reply, wondering if I should tell him what he should be able to figure out on his own.
I’ll give him a moment. He’s probably not expecting this.
“You’re… pregnant?” he asks, looking at my belly like he’s never seen one before.
That was quicker than I expected, and much more direct, but now there’s no avoiding it. I nod, biting my lip as I try not to cry. Emotion bubbles up inside me, hot and confusing, and I wish I could stop myself from crying, but I can’t.
Tears roll down my face, and I laugh, shaking my head as Avraam rushes toward me with a panicked expression. “It’s fine. I’m fine. I don’t know why I’m crying,” I gush as he kneels in front of me and grabs my hands.
“Kimberly.” He looks into my eyes, deep concern showing in the way his eyebrows arch back. “The timing might be difficult, but understand that I’m overjoyed to share this experience with you.”
