Chapter Twenty-Five
Ahearn
“Tell me about our past,” I suggested as we waited for the food I’d ordered to be delivered.
“I..what about it?” Bari asked hesitantly.
I shrugged. “Why not start at the beginning? I have some memory of my years at university and I know we were acquainted as far back as primary school. How did we become close?”
Bari hesitated, worrying his bottom lip with his teeth. “You stopped some other boys from bothering me and I developed a crush on you, I suppose,” he finally said, not meeting my eyes.
“I must have returned your regard,” I commented, smothering a smile. “And when we became intimate?”
Bari flushed, his eyes widening as he continued to stare at the wall behind me. “I’m not sure I understand the question?”
“When did our relationship become sexual, Bari?”
He gulped. “I..do we have to talk about this?”
“I think we do,” I said softly. “Is it disturbing you?”
Bari sighed. “Not disturbing, exactly,” he mumbled.
“But you find it distressing,” I said, frowning at the obvious signs that were filling the room.
“A bit, I suppose,” Bari admitted.
“Fair enough,” I tried to keep my voice emotionless, not wishing him to think I was angry with him. “Petroh explained that you are acting as a surrogate for Colm’s children.”
Bari nodded.
“You know what I thought,” I murmured. “Why didn’t you tell me? Especially after I was inexcusably rude to you about him having returned.” Just the memory of having referred to Bari and the babies asbaggagemade me wince.
“I..” Bari hesitated before shaking his head. “It didn’t matter. Regardless of the past, you were right about my morals, as it turned out.”
The chime of the doorbell broke the awkward silence that followed and I rose to answer it. “That will be dinner,” I announced unnecessarily.
When I returned from the door with the large carrier bags of food, Bari was hunched over, his hands braced on his knees. Dropping the bags unceremoniously, I rushed to his side. “Bari? What is it?”
He inhaled sharply. “The babies,” he grunted, his face contorting in pain. “I need to go to the hospital.”
Bloody hell, had I stressed him into early labor?
“How urgently?” I asked abruptly. When he looked at me in confusion, I realized my error and had to hold back a laugh despite the situation. “I’m not suggesting we eat first,” I assured him. “I was wondering if we can drive or if I should shift to fly.”
“Oh,” Bari’s laugh broke on a pained groan. “Driving should be fine.” He frowned. “You should eat. I can call a cab.”
“Absolutely not. That would certainly not be meeting my obligations.” I shook my head, not thinking how my words sounded until much later.
“Of course.” Bari straightened. “Let me go and get my bag.”
“I’ll get it,” I offered, but he kept walking.
“No, thank you,” he said over his shoulder. “I need to put a few last-minute items in, anyway.”
“Very well,” I agreed with a scowl. “I’ll bring the car up to the door.”
The drive to the hospital was barely thirty minutes, but each time I saw Bari grimace from the corner of my eye, it seemed as if time had slowed. When we finally arrived at the hospital, Bari stifled a laugh when I skidded into the drive for the emergency entrance.
