I’m not sure if he cares about our lack of conversation. I’m not sure that he even notices it, if I’m being honest.
Ido, though, and all I can think is thathe knows, he knows, he goddamn fucking knows.
I can feel Julia’s skin against my palms and the warmth of her lips wrapped around my dick.
Every conversation she’s had with me over the past month that should have been with him plays in my head like a broken record.
I swear he can hear the slamming of my heart echoing through my chest while I wait for him to launch at me any second and take my head off.
A small handful of cars zoom past us, and I wave away each of them as they slow and seem to look toward us, expecting to see the scene of some grisly accident.
No accident here, but it may become the scene of a murder.
“I’m good to ride,” he announces after what has to be fifteen minutes of horrible silence.
“Keep it under a hundred,” I tell him as I slip my helmet back into place.
Our ride back is quiet, save for the screeching in my head, and when we pull up to the Montgomery house, I brace my hands against my fuel tank.
Tripp’s bike crawls up the driveway, disappearing into the garage without a word, and my stomach churns.
He knows.
Chapter 13
TRIPP
The house is silent when I walk inside, and every light is off, save the small one that sits just above the stove. The same light that Jules and I have fought over at least ten times in the past six months.
With a heavy breath, I drop my helmet onto the chair next to the door and quietly trek up the stairs to our bedroom, where Julia and Drumstick are already curled up together. It only takes a few steps to close the distance between the doorway and our bed, and I carefully drop onto it to study my sleeping wife.
My lips pull into a tight line as I use my index finger to push a stray section of hair behind her ear.
I need to apologize to her. I shouldn’t have blown up at her the way that I did, but god, it felt like I was a ticking time bomb set to explode.
I still might.
She stirs under my touch as my thumb brushes against her cheekbone, her face pinching before her eyes crack open. As they adjust to the light, her brows stitch together and her hands slides out from underneath her bedding to rest on my thigh.
For just a second, I let myself glance at our open bedroom door and to the hallway behind it before bringing my focus back to my wife.
“Is it Paxton?” I whisper, resting a hand at the soft curve of her waist. My thumb moves of its own volition to massage into her skin. “Because that, I get. I talked to Connor about him tonight, and I thought I was gonna lose it.”
The bedding slides further down her body as she shifts, her face pinching as she looks at me.
“You told Connor about him?”
I nod. “I’ve been thinking about him since we went to dinner,” I explain. “The words just kind of fell out. If you told someone about him and they said something stupid…”
Deafening silence falls between us as she shakes her head, wrapping its claws around my throat hard enough that I think I might choke on it. I let my eyes drift closed, my hand trailing up and down the length of her side before I finally turn back to her.
“Jules, I need you to tell me truth when I ask you this,” I say, pulling in a steadying breath before I continue. “Are you pregnant?”
A crease forms between her brows as they pinch together, dipping at the middle, and her eyes flare.
“We haven’t had sex in months,” she tells me.
My wife thinks that she answered one simple question.
