As I walk into the living room, the environment seems normal. Ashia is sitting on the couch next to Daisy, looking more beautiful than ever before. Her hair is thrown up in a lazy bun, and she’s in nothing but one of her tank tops and a pair of sweatpants. She looks adorably comfortable talking to my mom and Serena. Her hand rests on her belly, and even though she’s looking over some papers in her other hand, she’s still trying to entertain the chatty women around her.
“You should’ve seen D in there, Ash. He’s looking like a badass,” Zeke hollers as we all walk through, clearly still hypedup. I just shake my head while my wife giggles and rolls her eyes as she sets the stack onto the coffee table.
“He’s always badass. Plus, I already know. I heard your shouting all the way in here. You’re the perfect cheerleader,” she teases back and smiles at me with the most genuine grin. Zeke flips her his middle finger, and I love how she doesn’t hesitate to reciprocate with her own, all without tearing her gaze away from me. My heart flutters in my chest, stoking a fire that’s immediately doused with shame.
Unworthy…
The voices return, but I try to drown them out. Even as it echoes between my ears, I attempt to push them away, but my perfect wife can see right through me. Her brows crease in the most endearing way, but her smile falls, too. She doesn’t quite frown, though. Her lips tighten into a concerned line, and I bend down to kiss her forehead the moment I reach her—just so I don’t have to see the sadness inevitably overtake her face.
Her fingertips reach up to graze my jaw, touching me so tenderly that the back of my head tingles, and the voices dwindle to whispers, seemingly afraid of her presence.
“Are you going upstairs?” she asks me softly.
I pull back enough to meet her golden eyes, so I can stare at them as I kiss her palm.
“Yeah. I guess it’s my turn. What are you up to?”
“Well, I’m going over the DH payroll—” she begins, only to be interrupted by Serena’s excited, squealing voice.
“And we’re trying to talk about baby items, but Ash is shutting us out.”
“Serena.” Ashia snaps her head in her friend’s direction, practically threatening her with a daring glare. I avert my gaze to her blonde friend as well, not expecting the sympathetic look on her face. She’s looking at my wife like she feels bad for her, and it bothers me. Why wouldn’t Ashia want to talk about buyingthings for the baby? I highly doubt my mother upset her, but now I’m curious if Serena did somehow. She did buy her that pillow a couple of days ago, and ever since, it’s been shoved in the corner of the room, left untouched.
Now that I think about it, that’s the only pregnancy related thing in the house besides the few new pairs of leggings and shirts I noticed in our room. I thought we would’ve had more by this point in her pregnancy, and certainly Ashia needs more than a few pairs of pants to fit her. Hell, if it were up to me, our entire home would be filled with pink, and our entire closet would be packed with nothing but maternity clothes right now.
I place two fingers under Ashia’s chin and tilt her face up to look at me. The overprotective urge I get when she denies herself the most basic things is resurfacing, and I need to make sure she was taken care of.
“You know you can get anything and everything you want or need, little wolf. You don’t needanyone’spermission to spend our money.” The tension in her face relaxes regardless of my stern tone, and her pupils expand as she stares at me, proving once again what even looking at me does to her.
“I know, baby. I just wanted to wait until you were ready so we could look together.”
Is that why there’snothingfor the baby? There’s not a single decoration, diaper box, or outfit, all because she was waiting for me? This is supposed to be a happy time for her… She should be questioning what type of bottle to buy, not when I’ll wake up with another nightmare. Her main concern for the past few days was getting me a fucking therapist when she should’ve been picking out a crib. I knew my absence affected her, but this realization only makes it worse. Alarms go off in my mind, making me feel charged and ready to exercise all over again.
Dishonorable…
“I’ll be back down in a few minutes, and then we’ll buy whatever you want.” I crash my lips to hers, not giving her the chance to argue. She leans into me without hesitation, reciprocating my affection. When I pull away, I don’t linger. My steps are the most determined they have been in a few days, desperate to get this over with. As I climb the stairs, I can faintly hear the conversation I left behind, but I’m not letting it stop me.
I barge into the room, hating how she’s sitting at the deskweprovided her with a cocky grin. Apparently, my parents don’t know me as well as I thought they did, because if they believe for even a moment that I would tell this stranger anything about us, they were mistaken. When Ashia had told me Dr. Von was on her way here, I almost thought I was dreaming—or completely delusional again.
“Ah, Damien. There you are. If you would like to have a seat, we can get started,” Dr. Von instructs me and gestures to the couch that somehow appeared in this room.
“Where the hell did you get this?” I point to it and ask.
“Alex was nice enough to retrieve it for me.”
“Oh yeah, I’m sure it’ll be a nice addition to your bill, won’t it?”
She raises a brow at me and sits back in her chair, although her demeanor remains stoic.
“Money should be the least of your concerns, Mr. Hartley.”
“It isn’t a concern,” I retort.
“Clearly.” She gestures to the couch again, and when I don’t move, she lowers her hand back down to the desk defeatedly. “Damien, I’m here to help you. I understand that talking about what you went through is difficult, but—”
“So you’ll understand that I’m not interested,” I interrupt her.
“That’s fine. We don’t have to discuss your captivity, but your parentsandyour wife called me in. Perhaps you could sit for the required time to satisfy them.”
