Total pages in book: 137
Estimated words: 129084 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 645(@200wpm)___ 516(@250wpm)___ 430(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 129084 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 645(@200wpm)___ 516(@250wpm)___ 430(@300wpm)
“What do you want me to know?” A lazy grin swims into place just as he tucks a few strands of my hair behind my ear. “You’re so goddamn beautiful, babe.”
Babe has me melting inside. Looking down at his chest makes it easier to accept his compliment. His eyes always give him away, and right now, they’re determined to make me believe there’s a possibility of so much more between us if we allow it to bloom.
It’s addicting, feeding not only my ego but also my heart the one thing that keeps it beating. Love.
My cheeks flush, so I press a hand to my cheek to cool it down. It doesn’t work. He’s determined to kill me with a case of the swoons, but I have my own goals, and blurt, “Maxwell is fourteen months old.”
A slight squint of his eyes releases, and he rubs my back. “Are you alright?”
“Fine. I just need you to hear what I’m saying.”
“I hear you. No sex since the last time we were together, and Maxwell is fourteen months old. Got it. You seem stressed. Is there anything else on your mind?”
His fingers brush against my leg, and it’s not lost on me that he’s making all the right gestures to make me feel secure with him. I do. I feel safe with him.
“Yes.” I lead him toward the truth, hoping he realizes I’m not losing touch with reality. I just need him to help me out here. I take a breath, and say, “Maxwell’s middle name is Noah. Maxwell Noah.”
I expect him to react, but he doesn’t, so that causes my mind to go into overdrive again. “What do you think?” I ask, a small shake to my voice.
“Think . . .” The thought trails off when his eyes leave mine, staring into the darkest part of the room before pivoting his gaze toward Maxwell’s door. “You haven’t been with anyone else.” I barely hear him, but I hate that I’ve assigned alarm to his tone. Nothing indicates he is, but my heart throbs in my ears, and I might be hearing things. “Maxwell is . . . fourteen . . . nine months . . . fuck.”
He swings his legs to the floor and gets out of bed. I can’t tell if he’s mad or trying to calm himself down, but I’m worried. “Noah?”
He stills, his back facing me, but there’s no response. His head drops forward, and he drags his fingers through his hair. The only sound in the room is his deep breathing, especially because I don’t feel like I can breathe at all.
I scramble to my knees, unsure how to help or even what to do, but I think I should get dressed. I go to him first, needing to know he’s not mad. Reasoning through my brain that it’s normal for him to need a minute or an hour or more to process this kind of major life news.
Feeling helpless, though, I touch his shoulder. My hand is left in the air when he drops out of my reach. Turning toward me, he says, “You told me not to hate you. You said that before telling me you’re a mother.” Maybe I preferred his back because when he angles toward me and I see the anger in his eyes, I shrink inside myself. “You told me not to hate Maxwell. It didn’t make sense to me then, but now . . .”
He pinches the bridge of his nose and rubs his eyes. A hard swallow follows the minutest of headshakes. “What have you done, Liv?” His voice is calm, eerily so. I’ve lost the ability to speak, though. My throat is choked entirely under the intensity of his glare.
I look away, needing the reprieve. I didn’t think telling him would be easy, but I never predicted anger being a part of it. The air stills, or maybe it’s my heart breaking into pieces. Just as a tear slips down my face, I reply, “I can explain.”
“I need you to explain.” His chest rises and falls with quick breaths. The anger has burned out when I look up at him again. All I see now is confusion. “I need you to tell me the truth, Olivia.”
Olivia.
The name alone from his mouth is a stab to my heart. My shoulders fall as my hopes crash along with it. The happy image of him and Maxwell, even the three of us potentially becoming something more than what we are now that I’d created in my head vanishes from the slip of his tongue.
I can’t fight this battle once I realize I’m the enemy. I raise the white flag and surrender, lowering my armor and shield that protected us to lay bare at his feet everything that matters most to me. “Maxwell’s your son.”