“What’s running through that mind of yours?” he asks.
“There are three things I need from you.”
“Name them.”
“Forgive Josh, take me home now, and give me space.”
“Josh can kiss my ass, I’m not taking you home, and you already had your space.”
“I’m filing a restraining order against you,” I say quietly. “I’m sorry, but you won’t see reason and compromise.”
Art gathers my messy hair into a high ponytail, then yanks my head back. “If it wasn’t for Sebastian, I would’ve locked your ass up weeks ago.” Anger shines in his turbulent green eyes. “You have no say in what goes down between Josh and me. I’m not done blowing your pussy out, so here is where you’ll stay until New Year’s Day. I’m not accustomed to being denied what’s mine, but I’ll give you space for a limited time.”
He offers very little, but it’s better than nothing at all.
Four months later
After the fuckathon on the yacht, Art kept his distance for a week, then the fighting and fucking commenced. He called my bluff and won. I never had any intention on getting a restraining order against him, which royally pissed off Mom and Anneli to no end. They couldn’t babysit forever, so Art and I fell into the same routine—though he’s not as intense as before due to my growing belly. I haven’t told them what caused the major fallout between Art and me, and I never will. True to his word, he bought me another ring, and he has notexonerated Josh for his deceit. We aren’t married and still live separately. He gave me until the birth of our baby to come to terms with the way things are going to be, or he’s dragging me down the aisle kicking and screaming.
The man is fucking stubborn, but his hard exterior slipped during the second sonogram, and it was magnificent to see. His gaze stayed riveted on the monitor. It was true love—a sight to behold. When the ultrasound tech announced we were having a baby girl, Art smiled—a rare genuine look of pure joy. She has him wrapped around her little finger and she hasn’t even been born yet. Rubbing and laying his head on my protruding midsection has become his favorite pastime. He stares in awe whenever our baby moves inside me. There’s no question Art will do anything in his power to keep her safe, even forfeiting his own life.
For the tenth time in two minutes, I reposition myself on the pregnancy pillow Art gifted me. I’m unsuccessful in finding a comfortable position. At six months pregnant, I’m bigger than normal, and I’ve been experiencing lower back pain. It’s time to get up to cook dinner anyway, and I promised Sebastian and Mason we’d bake cookies. I roll out of the bed and waddle into the hall. As I descend the stairs, a toy car catches my attention, but it’s too late to avoid it. I step on it and lose my balance, causing me to tumble down the stairs.
Thinking the worst, I rush to the hospital after receiving a call from Missy about Cin’s fall. I park directly in front of the entrance. Not willing to waste any time getting to her side, I leave the car door open and the engine running. I race from the elevator and down the hall where I spot Missy and Anneli. They’re both crying.
God, please. I am not a praying man, but please have mercy on me.
“Where is she?” I ask in a broken voice.
“She has to have an emergency Cesarean section,” Anneli answers.
“Cin’s asking for you,” Missy says. “Only one person can be in the operating room.”
“The doctor is coming,” Anneli says.
I anxiously watch him approach.
“Hello, I’m Dr. Channing.” He holds out his hand. “I’m assuming you’re the father.”
“Yes,” I reply, shaking his hand.
“Surgery is in five minutes. We need to get you prepped.”
“Will our baby live?” I hold my breath, waiting for a response.
“Ms. Belo suffered a partial placental abruption, causing internal bleeding and depriving the baby of oxygen.”
“What are their chances for survival?” I ask, feeling sick to my stomach.
“It’s hard to say. Ms. Belo will be given a transfusion during the procedure to replace lost blood, and a pediatric team is on standby to provide care for your daughter the moment she’s taken from the womb. You have my word everything possible is being done to ensure mother and child survive.”
I embrace Missy, then Anneli. “Cin is strong. She’ll pull through and bring our baby with her.” I follow the doctor down the hall and suit up before entering the operating room.
“Art,” she says weakly, giving me a small smile.
I walk over and kiss her on the forehead. “I’m here, baby.”
The surgery starts promptly. I whisper words of encouragement, remaining calm for her sake though I’m actually scared out of my mind. Minutes blend together until finally I catch a glimpse of a small body being pulled from the incision. Our precious girl is blue and limp, so tiny she could fit in the palm of my hand.
