He rubbed a thumb between my eyebrows to ease my frown lines. “You have nothing to be afraid of.”
“You two have so much history—”
“And what about Bill?” he asked. “Are you going to run back to him?”
I didn’t see how I possibly could after the past few days. Even if David and I didn’t work out, with some distance, Bill’s and my problems became clearer. I shook my head. “No.”
“We have to trust each other if this is going to work,” David said. “We both have history, but that’s all it is. History. We’re moving forward together.”
Suddenly emotionally and physically drained, I yawned. “Okay,” I agreed.
He squeezed his arms around me. “And I want you to know—you’re the only partner I’ve ever had without a condom.”
I blinked at him and cocked my head. “What?”
“Getting someone pregnant? Fuck no. I wasn’t taking that chance.” He shook his head. “I couldn’t risk it knowing one fuck-up could one day affect my future family.”
“Not even Maria?” I asked.
“Especially Maria. She’d drain my bank account before the baby was even born.”
“But you did it with me,” I said.
He rubbed my back. “You’re different,” he said and pecked me lightly. “You’ve always been different.”
David’s faith in us had never wavered. There’d been a point our first night when we hadn’t used a condom. And even though I, too, had been paranoid about getting pregnant at the wrong time, I’d begged him to come in me.
Now that he had, we were relying solely on birth control. He’d come in me three times tonight alone. Would anything stop us from continuing to take that risk? I was still paranoid about pregnancy. Was he?
I was tired. Too tired to go down that path. Instead, I melted into the feeling of his hand on my back.
“You can barely keep your eyes open.”
I nodded and yawned again.
“Bed, baby.”
“Hmm?” I asked.
I heard him laugh, and he scooted off the mattress to pick me up. I wrapped my arms around his neck, nuzzled my nose into his neck, and drifted.
* * *
I can’t catch a breath, my chest tight as a fist.
Oh my God.
Hands hold me down. There’s blood, so much blood, David’s blood, and I’m trying desperately to inhale as everything goes dark . . .
I bolted upright and gasped for air. My hand flew to my bare chest. I tried to scream, but my throat was so dry, I started coughing violently.
A shadow stood over me in the dark. “What’s wrong?” David asked. “Olivia. What is it?”
I pressed my hand harder into my throat and gulped in a breath. “Someone—” I croaked and started coughing again.
His voice raised in alarm. “Someone what?”
“A . . . dream.”
