Her expression shifts from confusion to anger, flickering briefly before solidifying. “So, this is a game to all of you?”
“Of course it’s not a game, don’t be ridiculous. You’re too smart to let emotions override logic and common sense.”
She presses her hand to her stomach and makes a face, as if I make her sick, as she turns away from me and heads down the hall.
“They care about you and Lucy. They don’t know. In fact, I lied to my best friend, claiming I was mistaken to ensure this wouldn’t become an issue.”
“I am not doing this with you today,” she says, before shutting her bedroom door behind her.
You have got to be kidding me.
Chapter 12
Apartment searching
Hildy
There is a light knock on my door before it opens, and he steps in, closing it behind him.
Furious, I continue tapping away on my keyboard and tell him, “I am actively looking for temporary housing to avoid this very situation.”
“And what situation is that, adulting?”
“I set a clear boundary and?—”
“You said today,” he holds up his wrist. “It is now 12:01, a new day. It was important enough for me to discuss this with you, when I do not break routine, yet here I am.”
“Adulting,” I huff. “That’s the most childish move I?—”
“You cannot move her from here after a week into another temporary housing situation for another few weeks until the apartment is ready.” He closes my computer, and I glare up at him, towering over my bed, looking… stupid.
That thought alone is like a rubber band snapping on bare skin, “I may be acting irrational, but it is not unwarranted.” Iwave a hand up and down, outlining his frame. “This is not okay.”
“I’ve had a few hours to dissect the situation, and given the setting, it’s possible I didn’t configure the fragile emotional?—”
“Don’t you dare.” I warn.
“Is it not? Are you not carrying the weight of the world on your shoulders by working several jobs, preparing to defend your thesis, and taking on custody of a child?” He looks at his watch. “I am two hours past my bedtime, and I am adult enough to admit I am feeling a bitfragile; it’s not weakness. To someone like you or me, Lucy, people who thrive on a schedule, it’s less than ideal. So, I apologize for my delivery. Now, how do we make these next few weeks pleasant for all involved, because dinners like that, where you’re so cold I feel like I need to heat up my plate, will not go unnoticed by others if we do not decide otherwise.”
I can feel heat burning behind my eyes, and I do not have the luxury of him seeing me as weak or unstable. “I am exhausted. Not weak, not irrational. I need a decent night’s sleep.”
He takes my laptop from me and sets it on the small desk, and plugs it in. “Good. Now, are you sleeping in here or in Lucy’s room?”
“I am going to sleep in there as I have been, so if she wakes, I hear her.” I move across the bed so that I can get out without being closer to this, this entitled man-child. “That way your routine isn’t further sullied.” Standing, I mock bow and curtsy, “Yourheinous.”
“Perfect,” he waves his hand in front of him, clearly amused, which pisses me off, and motions for the door. “After you.”
When I get to the door, his arm crosses it, stopping me, “One more thing.”
Oh hell no, I think as I attempt to duck under it, but he catches me around the waist and pulls me tight against him.“I’ve very recently discovered that I don’t only find highly intelligent women attractive, but am very possibly developing a brat kink, so do try your best not to feed the beast you’ve created by provoking me, because my situation has changed since that evening in late September.”
I elbow him in the stomach… which is like marble, and he chuckles as he releases me. I step away hurriedly, but then remember who I have become, who I am. I straighten, square my shoulders, and take my damn time walking the distance to Lucy’s room.
Closing the door behind me, I lean into it, heart racing, and feel a tiny flutter that nearly takes my breath away. I hold my hands against the spot affected, my belly, my heart, and promise both, we’re going to be fine.
I wake with a pressing need to pee, but I keep my body still. Instead, I focus on the gentle rhythm of Lucy's breathing beside me—soft and even. I cautiously turn my head, just enough to catch a glimpse of her without disturbing the mattress. She remains blissfully asleep, curled against the wall, one knee tucked up, her casted arm draped protectively over her midsection. My eyes flick to the clock. Eight a.m. She didn’t stir last night; that’s a first. I allow myself a quiet moment of recognition. The bed is still dry, a small victory that came without my needing to rouse her. I don’t touch the sheets, don’t test the waters. I simply smile, aware that it was just the first night I’d messed up enough for her to be slightly affected.
Then, I hear movement down the hall—a door creaking open, footsteps padding softly on the floor. Low, controlled sounds. He’s awake. My stomach churns as nausea washes over me. Iplace my hand gently on my small bump, rubbing it tenderly while whispering in my head, good morning. I remain where I am. If I get up now, the floor will creak, the hallway will echo with sound, and he’ll know I’m awake. I have no desire to relive last night—not the debates, not the boundaries, not the dissection before coffee, decaffeinated, of course.
