Total pages in book: 145
Estimated words: 131455 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 657(@200wpm)___ 526(@250wpm)___ 438(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 131455 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 657(@200wpm)___ 526(@250wpm)___ 438(@300wpm)
Yes, he's changed since then, or he's trying to, but that's not an excuse for fucked up behavior. That's not enough to get me to forgive him or even trust him again immediately.
Do I still love him? That much I don't need to think about. If anything, this wouldn't hurt so much if I didn't love him. I can't imagine life without him. Even now.
Which means I need to find a way to get through this and somehow find it in me to forgive him. That's not going to happen today, however.
In fact, nothing has to happen today. I need time. To think this over and figure out what to do next. How I'm supposed to live with this man—who I still love—and be able to look at myself in the mirror every day.
First things first. Leaving this room and facing him. Mom, please, if you're up there. Help me. Tell me what to do. I don't expect an answer, obviously, but thinking of her is what gives me the strength to open the door and face the man waiting for me.
At least he looks remorseful. Actually, he seems downright distraught, with his hair mussed like he's been running his fingers through it, the pain hovering around his eyes, bracketing the corners of his mouth.
Here I am, knowing he betrayed me, and my first impulse is to comfort him. I must be out of my damn mind. The man tricked me into getting pregnant, and I want to comfort him. It's almost too twisted. I should want to scratch his eyes out, kick him in the balls, something that would make him regret even thinking about betraying me. But no, I want to smooth down his hair and cup the back of his neck while he rests his head against my shoulder. I want to tell him everything is going to be okay, when I don't even know if that's true.
“Did you have any questions for the doctor?” he asks as I rush past him on the way to the front door. I notice Doctor Oscar is conveniently nowhere to be found. Did Callum chew him out for letting their little secret slip? I can't even bring myself to ask.
“No,” I snap, and push my way through the glass door without bothering to hold it for Callum, then walk straight to the car and climb inside before the driver has the chance to help me.
I'm tired of waiting for people to help me. I'm tired of many things I've gone along with to keep from rocking the boat. All it took was knowing how much of my life has been outside my control to see things through different eyes. All this time, I've been grateful to be part of this world and part of Callum's life, but I didn't realize this is my world, too. It's my life, too.
I need to start thinking about what's best for me and the baby instead of acting like I'm so lucky to be worthy enough to ride in a car like this, or to go back to a mansion in a guarded compound. I've been looking at this all wrong for way too long.
Callum slides into the car a few moments later, his body stiff, his features tight. Things couldn't be more different than they were on the way to the doctor's office. Instead of sitting close to him, we're on opposite sides of the back seat by the time the car rolls away from the little building in the middle of nowhere. I guess I shouldn't be surprised that a doctor who works for Callum is willing to be unethical.
“Will you at least speak to me, please?”
I'm almost stunned that he would ask me rather than demand I speak to him. It's obvious he's trying to do better, but better isn't good enough if the secrets of your past are never revealed. Did he even plan to tell me, or was he going to let me think it was an accident all along? I can't let this change my mind, but I can at least notice it.
“I have nothing to say to you right now.”
“I only wanted—” I glance over at him and give him a glare that causes him to snap his mouth shut. He doesn't need to tell me. I know what he wanted. He wanted proof of what a virile man he is. He wants to see me pregnant—he's practically counting down the days until I start to show.
Either way, I'm not about to have this discussion in front of anyone else. Thankfully he takes the hint, and the rest of the ride passes in silence with me staring out the window the whole time I go through what my future could look like depending on the choice I make today. No more can I act impulsively, running away and hiding from him.