Page 38 of Ruin Me Sweetly

Now we lay tangled in bed, the lamp on the nightstand turned low, casting everything in soft amber. My head rested against his chest, his fingers tracing slow, absent circles against my hip.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” he asked, but there was something in his voice that made me look up.

The man had the audacity to look hurt.

I could do this. I’d managed teenage meltdowns. Hair-clogged bath pipes. GCSE exam freak-outs.

Fourteen versus forty-four didn’t look all that different.

His arm tightened around me, drawing me closer against his chest. I rested my hand against his neck, feeling his pulse beat steady beneath my palm—too steady, given how he was trying to play this off as calm.

I broke it to him gently.

“Luke. Did you tell me when you were actively trying to impregnate me?”

His mouth opened, but no sound came out. No words formed. His brain was recalibrating, and I pursed my lips tight so I couldn’t laugh. His mouth closed, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he cleared his throat. The universe was against me, and a giggle escaped.

He sagged on the bed and stared at the ceiling for a moment.

A defeated sigh as he exhaled deeply.

I waited.

“I didn’t want to lose you.”

I shook my head and trailed a finger from his neck to his chest. I’d grown to love these sporadic little grey hairs scattered across it.

“So you activated your sperm against me?” I murmured.

Another sigh.

“They degrade rapidly between the ages of forty and forty-five,” he said defensively.

Another tone of voice I’d grown accustomed to as a mum.

“It was such a mess with Sadie. I’m not sure she ever really wanted me, never mind my children.”

My heart sank a little.

“Mark never really wanted Amber. He told me, before we divorced,” I said, pausing for a beat, dredging up the inflammatory words.

I want to live my life. Travel, go to strip clubs, hook up with different women. Not this. I never wanted to be a father at twenty.

Luke turned and wrapped both arms around me.

“He walked away from his own blood like it meant nothing. She was barely two,” I whispered.

He hissed through clenched teeth and kissed my hairline.

“I would never, ever do that. Never,” he said, so venomously I glanced up to see the fury on his face.

“We were so young. My parents judged me, and offered little help.”

Then, years later, Clive came along in a similar situation. And then there was Zach. I desperately wanted to reach out to him. Perhaps invite him for the Easter holidays, since he hadn’t got back to us about the wedding. He was no longer a young boy, but a mother’s feelings don’t just die.

Luke chuckled, dragging me back to the present.

“Ha. You couldn’t get rid of me even if you tried,” he said smugly.