I shake my head again.
“Nausea?”
I nod. He reaches for a small bottle with a prescription the doctor gave me, but it’s too late. I fly out of the bed and into the bathroom and make it just in time.
When I’m done, I’m spent and exhausted. Weakened, I lay my head in my hands. Again, he’s with me and again, I don’t know what I’m going to do or how I’m going to handle this as he gathers my hair up and places a cool washcloth on my neck.
“You’re so strong,” he says gently.
Is a man like him capable of real, self-giving love?
“I’m so proud of you for putting up with this for the sake of our baby. You’re a good girl, Cosette.”
My heart warms, even as I war with my thoughts and fears.
People who love me leave.
If I leave first, I won’t have to go through that again.
What if I have this baby with him, only to find out later that he’s going to leave? And after getting my hopes up and depending on him? It isn’t just me I have to worry about now, but our child.
He isn’t safe!
But he protected me and will protect our child. Is safety overrated?
He brought weapons into a hospital!
Does he know any other way?
He threatened people. When they get in the way, he hurts them. How can I raise a baby with a man like him?
Then I remember how he was with the children, the way his eyes danced, and how I knew right then, deep down in my soul, that he’ll make a good daddy. He may have battle scars, but I know he’s actively working through them.
That doesn’t solve my biggest dilemma though.
If he finds out who my father is, he’ll think I betrayed them again.
How will he ever really love me when he knows?
I brush my teeth and hair and freshen up, but I’m still shaky.
Of course I’m not in cahoots with Montague. But will he jump to the worst conclusions?
“Back to bed with you,” he says in that authoritative way that makes my heart squeeze. I don’t want to lose this, his protection and fierce loyalty. Having someone I candependon. Someone strong enough to lean on.
I want to believe this is real.
I want to believe that he really loves me.
Whatislove, anyway?
“I have to investigate a few things today. The fact that Rousseau is dead isn’t good. I’m an asshole for taking you with me yesterday.” He shakes his head and squeezes his eyes tight a moment before he opens them again. “I should’ve made sure you were safe and never should’ve taken you to talk to her.”
“I’m fine,” I reassure him, giving his hand a squeeze. “Remember? Dr. Martin said I’m fine.”
“But fuck, Cosette, if they’d attacked while we were at the warehouse?—”
“Did they?” I ask pointedly.
