I swallowed hard, watching the way she shifted under the blanket, her eyelashes fluttering. For a second, I thought she was going to pull away, tell me no, remind me that what I’d done to her wasn’t love, it was madness, and she wanted nothing to do with it.
But she didn’t.
She looked at me like she’d already forgiven me.
And it nearly broke me when she whispered, “I’m not going anywhere,” just before her eyelids closed.
***
Avery was awake before me.
She slipped out of the bed—slow and quiet—but I didn’t stop her, even if every muscle in my body wanted to grab her, cage her in. Instead, I remained still, my eyes closed, fists clenched in the sheets, waiting. I half expected her to run again; I wouldn’t have blamed her.
I was already thinking about how to keep her here if she did.
She left the room, and I got up slowly, rubbing the sleep from my eyes. My chest was tight as I slipped on a pair of boxers and walked down to the kitchen, where I heard the cabinet open.
I found her standing at the counter, holding a bottle.
The fertility supplement powder.
She turned to face me.
“How long have you been putting this in my food?” Her voice was quiet, almost too calm.
I didn’t flinch. It was time to give Avery the truth, expose every dark part of me, and let her decide if I was still worthy of her love.
“Since we moved in.”
She blinked, her fingers curling around the bottle like she was going to throw it, but she didn’t.
“Why?” Now her voice was shaking.
“Because I love you,” I said simply. “I want to tie you to me. Forever.”
Her breath hitched. “So you tried to get me pregnant.”
It wasn’t a question.
I nodded. “I did.”
“Do you still want to get me pregnant?”
I nodded again and reached for her hand, but she stepped back.
“And the birth control? It’s fake, right?”
I didn’t answer; I didn’t need to. She already knew.
The silence was deafening, but then she spoke. “I think I’m gonna be sick.”
Her hand shot to her chest as she ran to the sink and heaved, but nothing came out. She turned with her finger pointed at me angrily. “I can’t believe you—” She heaved again.
No words could comfort her, I knew that, so I didn’t bother wasting them. Instead, I rubbed her back until she was finished and then led her to the bathroom, gesturing for her to sit on the toilet. I reached into a drawer and pulled out a pregnancy test from under some washcloths.
I’d had multiple stashed there—just in case.
I handed her one without a word and sat on the edge of the tub. I stared at the floor, listening to the soft sounds of her breathing, the tearing of plastic, the shuffle of her sitting on the toilet, all of it.
