And all at once, he starts to walk around the pond toward me.
I quickly put Mathilda back in the stroller, trying to keep my hands from shaking. I can’t let the babies know that I’m scared. If I do, they’ll freak out, and I can’t have them frightened, even as young as they are now.
I look back toward Thom, and he’s still sauntering toward me—the way he’s moving is almost surreal. Can he not tell how terrified I am right now?
He lifts a hand and waves to me like we’re old friends, and my head floods with a million memories of everything that he’s done to me, his spittle flying into my face as he had me pinned to the wall, his fingers digging into my arms so deeply that they left marks. He doesn’t care. He doesn’t even register it as wrong. He?—
And before I know it, he’s upon me. I back toward the stroller, standing between him and the twins.
“Lila,” he greets me, his voice cheerful. “Babysitting now?”
I swallow hard as he gestures to the twins. I don’t want him to know anything about them. I never even wanted him to be awarethat they existed. But I’m not going to lie. He will find out the truth eventually, anyway. He always does, somehow.
“They’re….they’re my children, Thom.”
He freezes. I notice, all at once, a mark above his eye, like he’s been recently injured. Part of me wants to know what happened, but another reminds me that if I show even the barest hint of interest, he’s going to take that as proof that I want more.
“They’re yours?” he mutters, his voice low, almost threatening.
I nod, practically holding my breath. I can hear Matty grizzling behind me, still freaked out by the ducks, and I silently will her to hold it together, just as long as it takes to get out of this park.
“You always did want a family,” he remarks, but his voice has taken on a sharp, cold edge all of a sudden, the fury barely contained. “Glad that you finally got them. And who’s the father?”
“Not you,” I fire back before I can think how he’s going to take it. His lip curls briefly, showing his sharp canine teeth, like he’s thinking of lunging for me right there on the spot.
“So, you were cheating on me,” he growls. “Is that it?”
“Thom, you need to leave,” I tell him, keeping my voice as steady as I can. “I don’t know what you’ve gotten into your head about us, but whatever it is, it’s not true?—”
“I haven’t gotten anything into my head, sweetheart,” he replies, reaching out a hand to touch my face. I can’t pull back, frozen to the spot. A few people pass us by, and to them, we must just look like any other happy couple.
The thought makes me sick to my stomach.
“Don’t touch me,” I whisper, trying to keep my body from losing control on me.
He cocks his head slightly, raising his eyebrows. “Don’t pretend you haven’t missed this,” he murmurs. “I know you have. Look at you—you’re exhausted. You need someone at your side, someone who can help you with all of this?—”
“I said, don’t touch me!”
This time, the words explode out of me with more force, and he raises his hand, stepping back from me. He might be an asshole, but he’s not the kind of asshole who wants to get exposed in public for laying hands on a woman who’s telling him to leave her alone.
The woman who smiled at me earlier peers across from the bench she and her husband are sitting at, and I storm back behind the stroller, taking it and turning it toward the entrance of the park.
“Where are you going?” he demands, and I hear his footsteps closing the distance between us.
I don’t even look back. “It’s got nothing to do with you,” I snarl.
Anger overtakes the fear, allowing me the purpose I need to get the hell out of here. I can feel him staring at me, the same feeling that prickled at the back of my neck when I was on the subway after dinner with Martin. Was he there then too? I almost want to ask him, but I know that would only serve to prove his point about how much I’ve been thinking about him.
He races in front of me, forcing me to bring the stroller to a halt so I don’t crash into him. His gaze lowers, toward Matty and Ross, and a rush of protectiveness courses through me. Hestoops down before them, reaching out a hand, and I practically dive into his way, slapping it before he can get close.
“Don’t you dare,” I hiss, and he straightens up swiftly, his eyes flashing with out-of-control anger. He expects me to draw back, just like I’ve done a million times before. But that was back when it was only me I had to worry about, not my children too. I’m not the girl I was back then, not by a long shot, and I refuse to allow him to get the best of me.
“You need to go,” I tell him again, steadying my voice so it’s as convincing as it can be.
“It’s a public park, Lila,” he replies patronizingly. “You don’t get to decide who stays and who goes here.”
“Youneedtogo,” I repeat again. I feel like, if I just keep saying those words, then all of this will be over. I should be whipping out my phone, recording him so I can show it to the cops, but I can’t do anything but glare him down in the moment.
