Lips that come away from her skin with a softpop.
Hands falling from breasts.
It takes the brush of air between our bodies before I come to fully realise.
‘I can’t.’ The back of her head shakes, the strands snaking in the ocean breeze again. ‘I can’t do this.Wecan’t do this.’
I shake my own head vigorously. Or maybe I’m nodding. Who the fuck knows. She’s not looking at me, so what the fuck does it matter, right? Jaw clenched tight, my tenuous grip on reality causes a sourness in my mouth as in the periphery of my vision she turns. Her heart-shaped face and eyes as painful as broken glass.
‘I’m sorry,’ I rasp, words sounding unused. ‘I’m so sorry. You’re just—’like my fucking obsession— ‘and it makes me feel...’
A sudden gust of wind from the coast, and my words are lost; the volume of her peasant dress plastered suddenly to her body.
And it makes me feel... confused.
Shock.
Horror.
Fucking delight.
Oh, God. It makes me feel...
Like a motherfucking caveman.
‘Is that...’ A baby? Too many veggie tacos? ‘Fucking mine?’
My words are delivered like a slap as her hands instinctively cover the roundness beneath her breasts. I slide my hands up my cheeks and into my hair, feet planted like roots to the earth.
Because I want to run to her or run at her.
Take her in my arms, or take her arms in my hands.
All those things and it makes not one drop of sense.
‘No.’ I come back to myself; it seems she’s not the only one getting verbally slapped today. In my defence, I hadn’t reached for hardness; it’s just shock.
She’s pregnant, and I’m ...But what ifthis baby isn’t yours?
‘This has nothing to do with you, Dylan.’
Math.Do the math, you fuckwit. How many months? What size of bump?
Her words bring my thoughts to a sudden stop.Like a mallet to the head.Is this the truth or another attempt to get me to leave? There, with the wind plastering the dress to her vulnerability, she stands strong. Resolute. But the way her trembling lips curl in on themselves? And those words—how she said them—hold too much passion, too much depth. She’s hurt, and she’s lashing out, but instinctively, I know I put that baby there.
A baby. She’s having a baby. We’re having a baby.
‘Let’s just get that straight,’ she demands. ‘You have no part in this.’
Just her alone. No one else to be involved. Fucking typical. Despite knowing to the marrow in my bones that she’s carrying my child, my fucking mouth runs again.
‘Who’s the unlucky fuck then, wife?’
She has the audacity to narrow her eyes at me, folding her arms across her chest and accentuating the small bump beneath.Our child.How did I not notice? Even within the folds of her dress, how did I not see?Because I’m an idiot and that’s the reason she’s currently glaring at me.You’d imagine it would be hard to stare down your nose at someone when it’s as tiny as hers, but she seems to be managing just fine.
I struggle to contain my smile, though just barely manage.
‘Really?’ She cocks a hip; a motion that, in the past, would’ve served only as a dare.A cocked hip and folded arms and it’s on.‘Is it an issue for you, Dylan? You, who’ve had your dick in half of Hollywood.’
