Chapter 26
GARRET
VERONICA SMACKS me on the arm. “What the hell is the matter with you?”
“What?”
“You don’t know?”
I scratch my brow. “You’re talking in tongues. First, you fucked up the cake I wanted to surprise her with, and now you’re berating me for God knows what.” I pick up the plate.
“She’s gorgeous,” she states. “And very pregnant.”
I almost drop the disgusting cake. “What?”
She’s been pale for the past couple of days. I count the days. Subtract. Then count again. A slow, proud smile spreads across my lips. She hasn’t been eating like she usually does, and she looked at the plate of strawberries like it was covered in mold.
“You think?” I ask, but I already know the answer.
“Yes. And she’s also jealous that I’m here.” Veronica crosses her arms. “And she knows.”
Knows what?
“That we’ve…” She tilts her head to the side, avoiding the words.
We don’t talk about it. It was a mistake, but it happened, and at the time, it helped both of us.
She’s happily married and in love with Alaric. And me? I’m in love with the girl who’s more than likely pregnant with my child.
“I guess I have to change that.”
I wave my hand over the trash. The lid lifts with a soft whir. Reaching in, I pull out the note she threw away. The note where, in not so many words, I told her I love her.
Yeah, I haven’t outright said it, but I didn’t think I needed to. I was wrong. I was wrong not to introduce her first. And, if I’m being honest with myself, I was an idiot for inviting Veronica in the first place. I didn’t think about how she’d feel. I should have.
But I wanted to bake her a cake. To celebrate her birthday. Or at least, the birth date Alaric found for her. It wasn’t real—he could only confirm the year, not the month or the day—so I thought of letting her pick one if she wanted.
I didn’t want to buy a cake. I didn’t know which one to get. I wanted her to taste different flavors and find out which one she loved best. What color she liked. Buttercream icing or whipped? Chocolate, velvet, vanilla, or birthday cake?
But again, I didn’t think. I should have never let her walk away. I should have explained. Told her that I love her. That it will always be her.
“What do I do?” I ask, dropping the ruined cake into the trash.
Veronica peers over at the note in my hands, then at me. “What a man should have done a long time ago,” she says flatly. “Kill that asshole. Marry her. Create a fucking legacy with her. Fill this house with children of your own.”
I smile, imagining a little girl with her smile—Rose wearing my ring.