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He huffs out a laugh. “You were cuddling with me.” He smirks. “Besides, I never said I hated it, only said I didn’t prefer it.”
“Where’s Enzo?” I ask, sitting up more. His smile falls. “Rafael…”
“He’s okay,” he answers quickly. “He’s gone.”
“Gone where?”
“Trying to finish this situation.”
“What does that mean?”
“He’s looking for someone named Dario. Said this won’t be over until he’s dead.”
Dario is Zachary’s father. I met him plenty of times and didn’t like him a single time. He was always a condescending asshole. I didn’t see him once during this whole thing, but of course Enzo would want to go after him.
“How long has he been gone?” I ask.
“Couple hours.”
“And he asked you to babysit?”
Rafael frowns, putting his hand on my waist. “I came here because I wanted to. I needed to make sure you were okay.”
“Sorry,” I mutter. “So, cuddling is okay?”
“I’ll make an exception for you because you’re pregnant.” He tries to sound annoyed but fails.
“With your baby,” I add with a smile.
“Yeah,” he says, smiling back. “With my baby.”
He settles down on his back, and I move closer to cuddle with him. He doesn’t feel weird. Laying with him is comforting. He’s warm, and it feels good knowing we can just be. No expectations. No talking.
“Maybe cuddling isn’t so bad,” he whispers, running his fingers up and down my back.
“Our babies are going to love cuddling, so you better get used to it.”
“I can do that.” I hear the smile in his voice.
Rafael allows me to lie here and relax. We don’t speak, and I drift in and out of sleep for a while.
After some time, he asks if I’m hungry, but I tell him no. A little while after that, he tells me he thinks I should eat something.
I don’t want to, but he’s right. I’m not only tired, I’m lethargic. I have no idea how long it’s been since I’ve eaten anything and if it were just me, I’d lay here and not care. But it isn’t just me. It’s me and my two babies.
We make our way to the kitchen. Which is when I realize it’s early morning. How the hell has so much happened in such a short amount of time? It’s been less than a day and I was both kidnapped and rescued.
I vaguely remember getting home and being washed. The drain was running red, and I know it was Zachary’s brain matter on me, but I can’t quite process that. I know it, but it doesn’t make sense.
And I don’t care to make sense of it now either. Maybe I never will. Right now, I need to focus on the food in front of me. The toast and cut up apple and orange juice that somehow appeared in front of me.
“Eat, Jordan,” Rafael says softly.
Slowly, I eat. Both slices of toast, all the apple slices, and I drink all the juice. When I’m finished, Rafael is looking at me with a smile that has my stomach fluttering.
One fourth of my happily ever after. The one I’m writing for myself.
I toss and turn all day. I’m restless and want to do something but don’t have the energy to do it. So instead, I stay in bed. Hoping Enzo will come home. Hoping he’s okay. That he’ll come back to me. That both my babies will get to meet their fathers.
