Secret Twins For My Ex’s SEAL Best Friend (Billionaire Silver Foxes’ Club)

33. Delia

thirty-three

Delia

By the time I made it back to my house, the weight of the day pressed down on me like a boulder. I couldn’t move.

My bag felt heavier than usual as I tossed it onto the couch, and my footsteps dragged as I shuffled into my room. I hadn’t even turned the lights on yet; the gray Seattle sky filtering through my window was enough to see by.

I sat on the edge of my bed, my knees shaky, my breaths shallow. My hands hovered over my face, and I tried to hold it all back, but the more I tried to push it down, the harder it fought to come up. My throat felt like a weak dam, and my tears a flood pressing against it.

Missing hours.

Those two words repeated over and over in my head, more and more ominously, until all I could hear was the tone of failure. My hours at the counseling center, the ones I’d spent months building up, were gone. Vanished. And no one knew why. Or, worse, no one was saying why.

It was not what I needed at this point in my life. Aside from all my trouble with men, I was pregnant. I had been holding onto the knowledge that at least I would graduate before I had the baby, but now reality was crashing around me.

I had stayed calm on the way home, told myself I’d be able to do another two semesters, but would I be able to do that with a baby? How would that even be possible?

I pulled my legs up to my chest and wrapped my arms around them as the tears finally broke free. They came quietly at first, like a trickle, but soon, I was sobbing into my knees.

I’d worked so hard—pushed so hard—and now I could see it all crumbling. If I didn’t graduate on time, I may never graduate, not with a new baby to take care of. The last six years of school would be for nothing.

I let my head fall back against the wall as the tears continued, feeling raw, broken, and so very tired.

My phone alarm went off, blaring and reminding me that despite all of this, I still had to go to work. I couldn’t afford to call out—not financially and not mentally.

“I’m going to figure this out,” I whispered, more to myself than anyone else.

***

The bar was already packed when I got there. Music pounded through the speakers, and the joy in the throngs of guests sat in sharp contrast to the heaviness that still sat in my chest. I slipped through the throngs of people and clocked in without saying much to anyone.

The routine of pouring drinks and dodging flirtatious comments helped. For a while, at least. But my luck ran out a few hours into my shift when I looked up and saw Jeremy walking toward me.

There was something hollow in his expression, a tension in his jaw as his eyes locked on mine. I tightened my grip on the shaker I was holding and set it down carefully.

“Jeremy, what are you doing here?”

“Hey, Dee,” he said, his voice soft. He leaned against the bar, his elbows resting on the sticky surface. “I just came to check on you. I heard about what happened with your hours.”

My stomach twisted at the reminder of what I’d been pushing aside while I pushed cocktails.

“I’m fine,” I said numbly. Mostly because I didn’t want to have this conversation with Jeremy. I couldn’t handle talking about it with anyone yet, much less him.

“Well,” he said, his voice laced with concern, “It’s not fair. You’ve worked so hard for this. And I want you to know that I’m going to help in any way I can. I’ll go to bat for you.”

I swallowed thickly and looked away. “Thanks, but I’ll figure it out.”

“Delia…” He reached for my hand, but I pulled back before he could touch me. I thought back to what Robert had said about my not playing the field. If he walked in right now, he wouldn’t like what he saw.

“You don’t have to do everything by yourself. I care about you. I always have.”

I felt that familiar feeling, the one that felt like the ground beneath me was crumbling in favor of the ground that Jeremy said was there.

Jeremy used to make me feel like if he pointed at a blue sky and called it purple, I ought to listen. He always made me second guess my instincts and choices, and there was a time when I would have not only let him fix things but begged him to. But now… everything was different.

“I’m fine,” I said again, though my voice wavered. “Really. I’ve got it under control.”

Jeremy studied me for a long moment, his gaze lingering on my face like he was trying to figure me out. Then, he gave me a sad smile. “You’re not fine. I can see that. Whatever’s going on with you… I want to help.”

“How could you help?” I asked him, wanting a lifeline even if I didn’t want it from him. Maybe he really could help. Maybe I would be stupid to not take his help.

“I could vouch for you, tell your advisor how often you were there, offer my notes.” His hand reached for mine again, and I didn’t fight it.

I understood his unspoken implications. He was the only one who knew for certain how many hours I’d been at the clinic. He held my fate in his hands.

“Okay, that might be—” I started to answer, but Jeremy leaned across the bar, his hand reaching out again, this time to cup my cheek.

I froze in shock, too stunned to move as his face came closer, as he tried to kiss me. “Jeremy, stop!” I exclaimed, turning my head sharply.

His lips grazed the corner of my mouth, and he looked at me with an expression that could only be described as anger mingled with disbelief.

He slammed his hand on the bar, and I turned to leave, but he grabbed my wrist, pinning it down.

“Delia, I know you haven’t stopped loving me. I’ve seen the way you look at me. I know how badly our breakup hurt you.”

“You broke up with me,” I reminded him, my eyes glued to his, that same terror flooding my senses that I’d had the night that guy had followed me to my car.

“And I regret it,” he said simply, his hand on my wrist pulling me in closer. I recognized the technique from the self-defense classes, the technique that forced people to come closer.

I wracked my brain for the counter to it, but I couldn’t think straight, I was so numb with fear where despair had been before.

When my face was close to his, he tried again to kiss me, his other hand reaching around to grab the back of my head.

I turned my head into my arm and blurted, “I’m pregnant!”

And then I was met with the kind of silence that sucked the air out of a room.