Gabriel hesitates. His jaw tightens.
Before he can answer, the door opens.
A nurse walks in, checking a chart. A smile appears when she sees I’m awake.
"Oh, good! You're back with us," she says. She moves to the monitors, checking the readouts. "Your vitals are looking much better, Mrs. Hollis."
I know my brain’s fuzzy, butwhat did she just call me?
Mrs. Hollis?
The world stops.
The beeping of the monitor seems to slow down, each sound echoing in the silence of my mind.
Mrs. Hollis.
Staring at the nurse is the only reaction available. "What did you call me?"
"Mrs. Hollis," she repeats, frowning at me like she’s wondering if I have amnesia or a worse head injury than theythought. She glances at Gabriel. "Your husband’s been very worried. He hasn't left your side."
Husband.
My head turns slowly to look at Gabriel.
I ignore the way my head throbs and the room spins with the movement. I ignore the ache in my ribs while the beeping monitor speeds up with the rate of my heart.
Gabriel’s not looking at the nurse. He’s looking right at me. His face is stone again, the fear replaced by a hard, unyielding resolve.
He doesn't deny it.
"The doctor will be in shortly to discuss your discharge plan and go over the ultrasound results for the baby," the nurse continues, oblivious to the second bomb she just dropped that I don’t even know how to begin to process. "Everything looks fine, but we want to be careful with a pregnancy this early."
The fuckingbaby.
All the air feels like it’s been sucked out of the room and I can’t seem to get any into my lungs.
The nurse bustles out, ignoring my panic and leaving us alone in the suffocating silence.
Well, except for the fuckingbeepingthat won’t stop. I reach up with a shaking hand and rip all the sticky leads off my skin and the beeping finally turns into a flatline but I don’t give a crap.
My gaze snaps to the man I’ve been sleeping with, the man I’ve been trusting, the man I thought was helping me rebuild my life.
The man I’ve somehow become completely obsessed with and dependent on, like air or water or food. He’s necessary to my survival now, and even if he’s done what I think he’s done… I don’t think I’ll ever be able to exorcise the parts of him that’ve taken root inside of me.
"What did she say?" I whisper.
"Blair—"
"She called me your wife," I say, voice rising as the words scrape along my dry throat. "And there’s a baby? Why did she say those things, Gabriel?"
He doesn't flinch. He doesn't look away. In fact, there’s a glint in his eye that takes me a second to figure out. Pride, I think. Or satisfaction. Maybe a little of both. Either way, he’s completely unapologetic about what he’s done.
"Because youaremy wife," he says. "And youarepregnant."
“How? I know I have a head injury, but I don’t remember you proposing. Or a wedding.” I don’t bother asking about the baby thing. He hasn’t made that a secret, and while it’s a shock, it doesn’t feel like he ever tried to hide his intentions from me.
But this infuriating man just stares at me and that’s when it hits me.
