“I’ll drive you,” I finally said.
She didn’t even look at me. “I’m good.”
I stepped farther into the room. “You’re too anxious.”
“I said I’m good.”
“I’m taking you,” I told her. “That’s it.”
That made her finally turn around and glare at me. “I can drive myself.”
“Not like this, you can’t.”
I raised a brow and just stood there to let her see I meant it.
She muttered something under her breath, grabbed her phone, and started calling Livia while she headed for the front door.
By the time we got through the condo and down the elevator, she was already telling Livia that Zahra was in labor and to tell everybody else. I stayed quiet beside her, but the whole time she talked, I kept catching little things; how she rubbed her stomach without thinking, how her breathing stayed quicker than it should’ve, how tired she looked around the eyes even while panic was pushing her.
I could feel my attraction to her changing. I still wanted her. But it wasn’t just lust and chemistry. It felt deeper and more powerful than anything I’d ever allowed myself to feel.
By the time we got outside the building, she was still trying to head toward her own car.
I caught her arm. “I said I’m driving you.”
She snorted and yanked her arm free. “Why do you care?”
“Because you’re worked up, and you’re not about to get in a car like this and hurt yourself.”
“There you go again,” she snapped, spinning toward me. “You always want to control some piece of this while offering absolutely no real emotional security. You are always teetering on the line, Reek. One minute you care. One minute you’re cold. One minute you show up. One minute you act like this baby ruined your life. I amtired. I would rather raise this baby alone than keep letting you hurt me every time you get scared. If you’re out, then be out. Show up at the appointments. Come to the baby shower. Be there when the child is born. Do whatever little father stuff you can manage. But that is it.”
That made me pause and see what was really happening. Ava was done with my bullshit. She was really building a life that did not require me. It made me admire her more.
I wanted to tell her that. But I couldn’t get any of that out. So, I did what I knew how to do instead.
I grabbed her by the elbow.
“Reek!” she snapped, trying to pull back.
I held on and started walking her toward my car.
“You are doing too much,” she yelled, kicking against me while I kept dragging her. “Let me go!”
“No.”
“I hate you!”
“That’s cool.”
I opened the passenger door and all but tossed her inside when she still wouldn’t cooperate. She scrambled upright in the seat, fussing, and acting like she was about to hop right back out.
“Don’t play with me, Ava,” I warned, shutting the door.
Then I rounded the hood, got in behind the wheel, and pulled off before she could try to jump out.
She sat over there scowling out of the windshield, arms folded, refusing to look at me.
AVA REYNOLDS
