31. Emmeline
31
Emmeline
“ Y
ou sleep so sweetly,” Oscar murmurs, staring down at me with a soft smile on his face. He’s acting as if it was a privilege to get to watch me.
I freeze, just for a second, before my memories catch up to me. The flashes of images from what we did and how last night went have my cheeks heating up.
I take a slow, even breath before rolling over to lie on my back. The satin sheets are smooth against my bare skin, and I can feel the flush spreading down my body as the memories of last night— this morning? —come back to me.
“Have you slept?” My words are husky, my voice still thick with sleep as I look up at him.
“Not really.” He shakes his head, not seeming bothered by the fact.
I frown, reaching up to rub at my eyes. “Why didn’t you wake me?”
I’m not sure how long we spent… well, I’m not sure how long I was awake last night. But for him to not sleep at all has guilt tightening in my chest.
I feel awful.
He came in such an anxious state, and then I ravaged him before sleeping without a care for him or what he needed. My mate was so anxious, and he’s been kept up all night long.
Oscar leans over and presses a kiss to my lips. So softly, so gently, and he smiles.
“You calmed me,” he says like it’s the easiest truth in the world. Goosebumps appear on my skin, a little flutter in my tummy. “It was the first time I’ve been able to breathe since I woke up from that dream. I chose to stay awake and monitor you—that was my choice.”
I blink up at him, still sore in the most delicious way. I don’t know if my mind is groggy from sleep or foggy from guilt.
“You should’ve woke me. We could’ve stayed up together.”
“I didn’t want to risk you losing out on any more rest,” he says, shaking his head much more firmly this time. “Watching you sleep, knowing that you were safe in my arms, grounded me in a way nothing else could’ve. I’m okay, you’re okay. And, besides, that’s a normal night sleep for me.”
I freeze. “ Normal ?”
He nods. “You helped me. You kept me tethered to reality.”
“Oh, Oscar,” I whisper, choking on my words. My throat is tight, and I wish he could understand why I’m so upset by his words. But, instead, his brows are furrowed in confusion, his scent thinning.
There’s so much I want to say, but I can’t seem to find the right words. So, instead, I bring his hand and rest it on my mostly-flat, but also kind of bloated, stomach.
Good old, first trimester.
“We’re both here,” I promise. “And we’re not going anywhere.”
He smiles. “I know.”
“If you let me run to the bathroom, I can then call the doctor,” I offer. A part of me hopes that he’s willing to wait a bit longer so I can soak up his scent some more in our nest.
“I’ve already called,” he says. “You’ve got an appointment at nine. I’ve let Uri and Sterling know.”
My tummy flutters, and my glands tingle. He hasn’t just held me all night or watched me sleep to make sure I was safe.
He planned. He protected. He remembered.
How am I meant to keep my walls up when he is so good at proving I matter?
I nod before realising that he doesn’t have a phone here. “How did you call?”
His cheeks redden as he gestures to mine. “I’m sorry. I thought it was helping.”
“It’s fine, I have nothing to hide.” I smile. “I’ll have to let my… well, fuck, I suppose Uri’s my boss.” I grimace. “This feels like… well, I don’t even know the word. Ethically wrong. Probably illegal.”
“It’s against company policy to not disclose the relationship, but it’s not illegal to be dating your boss, Emme. Don’t stress yourself,” Oscar says. His tone is so bland, as if he doesn’t really care.
Probably because he’s not the one fucking his boss.
Bosses.
Fuck.
“Well, at least we have time to shower,” I offer, smiling at him. “I don’t have any scent neutraliser?—”
“Sterling is going to bring me an outfit. I’m covered.”
I frown. “What do you mean?”
Oscar’s cheeks redden ever so slightly. “My suit’s are all made out of neutratex.”
My eyes widen. That’s one of the brands we work with—they’re an extremely high-end clothing line that uses a form of heat-activated scent-neutralising weave embedded directly into the fabric.
They’re designed to diminish natural scent projection and repel clinging particles. I’m actually unsurprised that Oscar uses them, considering the difficulties he seems to have with scent.
“It’s not widely known,” Oscar says. “Mainly because I don’t want to be robbed.”
I struggle to hide my amusement. “I don’t think anyone is going to rob you for these, Oscar.”
He raises a brow. “Do you know how much they cost? I’ve got cars that were cheaper.”
“How many cars do you own?”
Oscar laughs. “Okay, fine, I don’t have cars cheaper—but the pack does. Sterling has a collection of rare cars. I don’t mind the older ones, since they gain value the older they get, but some of these are losing money in our parking garage.”
He shakes his head, the pout on his face far too cute to ignore. Despite having no sleep—or, at least, very little—he’s in a pretty good mood. I don’t sense any of the lingering anxiety from last night, and he’s clearly been productive this morning.
He got what he needed, and so did I. In the grand scheme of things, that’s all that matters.
So, why do I feel so nervous?
T he scan is over, the photos are printed, and I’ve spent the entire car ride memorising every tiny blur that proves my baby is okay.
I run my thumb across the grainy outline, letting it trace the curve of what might be their nose.
“You’re safe,” I murmur too softly for anyone else to hear. “We’re safe.”
My palm drifts to my belly, pressing gently, as my other clutches at my alpha’s hand. Oscar hasn’t let go of my hand since the appointment, and I’m starting to understand what the others meant when they said he was clingy. Like me, in his other hand is a photo of our baby.
He’s been holding the print like it’s a financial forecast that has just saved a company from ruin. It’s kind of cute, really.
We’re quiet as we go up to Sterling’s office together, and I’m more grateful than ever that I can hide behind Uri and Sterling, just in case anyone we work with spots me holding Oscar’s hand.
That wouldn’t be good.
“Oh, what’s this new chair for?” Uri asks, looking across at the large chair in Sterling’s office. It wasn’t here the last time I was, so I’m interested. Uri glances over at Oscar. “And why aren’t you protesting it?”
Oscar squeezes my hand before letting go. “I ordered it for Emme. Sterling picked it out.”
“You’ve got a chair just for me?” I gasp, looking around my men in shock.
It’s plush, ergonomic, and probably costs more than my childhood bed. There’s a faint scent clinging to it—clean linen, with a trace of Oscar’s almond and nutmeg and Sterling’s green tea and mint.
They’ve pre-scented it for me.
Fuck, that means everything.
I wonder if I could fit it in my nest.
“What’s that blush for?” Sterling asks, waggling his brows.
I roll my eyes and duck my head, running my fingers over the fabric. It’s not just a chair. It’s proof that I’m not just a guest in their world—I belong here to them, with them, as part of them .
We’re back at work now, having missed the entire morning thanks to Oscar’s questions for the doctor.
Uri tried to rein him in, but I refused to let that happen. After last night and understanding more about Odelia’s medical history, it’s clear that Oscar’s trauma goes deeper than any of us could understand.
He’s terrified that something will happen to me, to the baby, and based on the little bits he’s shared—this panic doesn’t just extend to us. He feels the same way about our packmates.
“It’s technically for the most important person in the company,” Sterling deadpans. My gaze darts to Oscar, who doesn’t seem bothered by their pointed teasing.
Uri snorts. “I’d love to see the paperwork on that.”
“Oscar’s the one approving it,” Paxton reminds them, and they all burst out laughing.
“I didn’t submit the expense report,” Oscar says. “I approved the chair requisition under ‘essential infrastructure’. Not my fault that the office lacks proper omega seating. Personally, I think this is another reason we should just fire HR.”
I gasp at hearing this, but they all just burst into laughter and continue teasing one another. I don’t try and join in, not unless prompted, because it’s so nice to see them together and watch their usual dynamics. Things seem lighter than they have, and I don’t think I’m the only one appreciating this new sense of calm.
It’s so warm and light. A feeling of belonging washes over me, and I can’t ignore it any longer.
A chair for me. A space made in their area of safety.
It’s such a powerful gesture.
“Hey, little treasure, shh,” Paxton soothes, striding over to me. He sits down on my chair and tugs me closer to him. One arm wraps around my waist, and the other trails up and down my back, offering soothing back rubs. “Why are you crying, beautiful girl?”
“She’s happy, can’t you tell?” Oscar asks, not even looking at us.
“You’re happy?” Paxton asks, his urgency making me giggle a little.
I nod as the relief fades out of him. “Ignore me. Pregnancy hormones.” I wave him off when he opens his mouth, likely to argue. I reach up and kiss his cheek, grateful that my chair is large enough for two.
Well, unless it’s Uri who wants to share, then I think we’d need another one.
Sterling and Uri start unpacking the food as Paxton gets up and places a glass of water in front of me on the coffee table. Oscar’s sitting close to my chair, although not touching it, and everything just feels so right.
I don’t protest at the size of my plate, knowing that someone will probably finish off what I leave, and instead thank Uri for it.
“How was the scan?” Paxton asks.
There’s a tinge of disappointment in his scent, and I know that my head alpha is upset about not being able to join us. With how last minute it was, he was the only one unable to cancel his meeting.
I might not be rubbing it in, but the others are more than happy to do so.
Meanies.
“It was amazing,” Uri says, shaking his head in wonder. “They had a heartbeat . An actual one that we could hear.”
Paxton grins. “It’s genuinely amazing.”
“It helps it feel a little more real,” Sterling adds, smiling at me. “How did you feel seeing the baby again, little storm?”
I swallow my mouthful of food before speaking.
“It’s terrifying and amazing, and just…” I trail off, my cheeks heating up. “It feels strange to feel so attached to such a grainy black and white photo.”
“I feel you,” Uri says, looking down at his photo.
“I’m glad we got actual printouts this time,” Paxton says, grateful that we brought him one. “I’m going to put mine on my desk so I can look at them all day long.”
I got an extra copy of the scan photo for Evander, knowing that my brother is quite excited to have a niece or nephew. Even through his concern, his excitement is palpable.
I know he’ll be an amazing uncle—he’s so good at everything. Well, except for baby names. The ones he’s chosen should be burned.
And I need to remember to warn his omega whenever he finds her.
“I want to blow mine up and put it on the wall,” Oscar says, and I look down at his head of blonde hair, gutted I can’t see his face right now.
“The quality would be shit,” Uri says, shaking his head. “I wouldn’t want to ruin it like that.”
Oscar snorts, stabbing a piece of lettuce so brutally with his fork I wonder what he’s imagining that it is. “I’m rich enough to pay someone to preserve the quality. I’m not an imbecile.”
“Based on that tone of voice, he clearly thinks you are,” Sterling teases, wagging his brows at Uri.
“Maybe we shouldn’t start fighting each other,” I caution, looking around the men’s faces that I can see. “We’ve had a nice morning, let’s not ruin it.”
“Trust me, little dove, this isn’t fighting,” Uri says. “But I’m happy to change the subject if that helps you. How was your first day back yesterday?”
I’m quite relieved when the subject turns to work, and Uri and I instantly dive in with talking about our new project. Paxton doesn’t have much to offer, not really involved on the creative side, and Sterling seems to have a great deal of fun pointing out all of the security risks that our idea will have for the models.
Oscar refuses to engage, even when Uri asks for wiggle room on the budget, instead just alternating between eating his food and working on his tablet. He’s quiet, content, and I wish that we’d have been able to have a moment alone to talk about the scan.
I just want to make sure that it’s helped him and reassured his anxiety a little.
There’s a rapid knock against the door, and we all freeze.
Fuck, please don’t be for me.
Please be someone dropping off files. Or tea. Or literally anything.
Sterling’s brows draw together, and he gets up and moves over to answer it. I hang my head low, hoping that my hair will hide my face.
It’s stupid, considering I’m on the cameras as coming up here and people probably saw me get into the lift on my floor.
But I’m not yet ready to lose the anonymity we have at work. I don’t want to blur any lines or out our relationship until we’re a little more secure. It’s only been a few days, and I’m just not there yet.
It doesn’t help that my men are pretty prolific figures, and, as much as they’re not celebrities, I have no doubt news about our relationship will be publicised.
My stomach churns, but I push the thoughts away, not wanting to let my anxiety ruin my current contentment.
“I’m sorry for interrupting during your lunch break, Mr Carter,” Jamie, their shared assistant says, “but I’ve been asked to pass a message along for Emmeline.”
“For Emme? What for?” Sterling asks, tossing a confused look over his shoulder at me.
My fork pauses halfway to my mouth. My scent falters, just a flicker, but it’s enough for Oscar to go rigid. He grasps my ankle once more, holding it tightly as he continues to eat.
Uri’s worried gaze darts to me before standing for Jamie to be able to see him as well. I wonder what he thinks of me beinghere with all of them.
“She’s got a meeting with HR at 2 pm.”
My heart stops, my stomach drops, and my throat clenches tightly. A bitter feeling burns inside, and I know that I’m going to be sick.
What could HR want with me? I’ve never caused any problems, I don’t have any drama with anyone, and have never raised a complaint with them—even when I probably should have.
I’ve been the model employee.
And, surely, if there was an issue, one of my four bosses would tell me, right? They’re literally sitting in the same room as me right now.
Maybe this is what it feels like when your safe bubble pops. When the world comes knocking to remind you that you’re not worthy—that, even amongst these men who adore me, that I’m not untouchable.
I curl in on myself, trying not to let the panic show, but my scent betrays me before I can even breathe.
Sterling’s voice deepens. “Did they say why?”
“No, unfortunately. Brenda just asked me to pass the message on,” Jamie says.
Oscar jumps up. “What department did the request come from?”
His voice is sharp enough to make Uri flinch, and my chest tightens with unease. I glance over to Paxton, who doesn’t seem alarmed, unlike the rest of us. Oscar’s scent is covered by his scent neutraliser, but his barely masked growl is just as telling.
“I have no information, Mr Remington,” Jamie replies. “I’ll check with Brenda and see what I can find out.”
“Get on with it, then,” Oscar snaps, and I gape at him in shock.
“Thanks, Jamie,” Uri says as the alpha disappears. Sterling closes the door, and Uri immediately rounds on Oscar. “We’ve told you not to ask him for things if you’re not going to say please .”
Oscar rolls his eyes. “What kind of useless information is that? He didn’t actually give us anything to work with. It would be like me showing up to a financial meeting and only bringing the reports from the last quarter.”
I exchange a look with Uri, and I bite my lip to hide my amusement. Oscar’s tirade makes very little sense, and, honestly, I don’t know enough about the financial side to know how badly only last quarters numbers would be.
“Calm down. It’s HR, not court,” Paxton says, shaking his head. “It won’t be anything bad, okay?”
“How do you know that?” I whisper. My scent pulses out as I hunch in on myself. “What if someone reported me for not going through my heat? What if they think I took time off fraudulently? What if?—”
Uri rises to his feet immediately, the air crackling with an intense alpha fury. “Regardless of if you were in heat or not— you were sick . They can’t penalise you for that. I won’t fucking let them.”
“They’d have to go through me first,” Oscar says viciously. Sterling coughs, and I crack a small smile when Oscar sneers at him. “What? Do you need a cough drop or something?”
Sterling groans, since Oscar clearly missed his point.
“We’ve had this discussion far too many times,” Paxton says with a heavy sigh. “We don’t control HR. We’re not exceptions to the rule or just here for decoration.” He rises from his chair and moves over to mine.
He gently moves my plate to place it on the coffee table before tugging me onto his lap. I feel so small, so pathetic, as he wraps his arms around me and cuddles me in close. His scent is thick and comforting, but it does very little to ease my nerves.
Like he’s just said—he doesn’t control HR. He can’t fix whatever this problem is.
He can’t make it go away.
“Do you think someone’s complained about me?” I ask softly.
Paxton rocks me back and forth. “I wish I knew. Would you like me to rearrange your appointment so you don’t need this hanging over your head for the next hour?”
I don’t reply as tears fill my eyes. I burrow into his shirt and let the vibrations of his growl do their best to regulate my emotions. They don’t help mentally, but, at least physically, they help the palpitations.
“I think we should just sack the entire department now,” Oscar says. “Then it won’t be an issue at all.”
Uri groans. “I love you, bro, but this is not the time to try and push that agenda of yours.”
“It’ll be fine. I can watch you go there on the cameras and provide moral support. Or, if you need me to fake an emergency, I can do that instead,” Sterling offers.
I laugh, albeit without humour. The fact that I’m being pathetic enough to sob on my mate’s lap because of a work-related issue is a level of dramatic that I wouldn’t have previously allowed myself to have.
Is it the pregnancy?
Is this what feeling safe looks like?
Or is this just how an omega acts when they’re in a relationship? Weak, pathetic, and dependent?
“I’ll be fine,” I reassure him, pushing back off Paxton’s chest. I wipe my eyes and hate the visible tear marks on his shirt that show the proof of my upset.
“You sure?” Paxton asks softly.
“I’m sure.” I fake a smile, running my fingers over the soft chair. It felt like a throne fit for a queen when I first sat in it.
Now? Well, now, it feels like the chair a prisoner on death row might be strapped down into.
There goes those omega dramatics rearing their ugly head once again.
I stand outside the door to my HR meeting, my hands trembling as I raise them to knock softly. I feel so awkward, and I still don’t trust that I won’t be sick.
But my appointment is in five minutes, and I don’t have time to run to the bathroom.
Again .
I raise my hand to knock again just as the door opens. A wave of cherry and almond hits me, the sweet and sour tinge causing me to gag, and it’s clear that she’s an omega like me.
I try to be subtle by dropping my head and stepping back. But breathing through my mouth seems to be worse.
My stomach churns, my throat burning, and I hope she doesn’t notice.
“Hello, Emmeline,” the woman says, pulling the door back properly. “It’s so nice to finally meet you. I’m Milena, but you can call me Millie.”
I plaster a smile in place and look up at her properly. She’s gorgeous, completely and utterly, and roughly my age.
Her hair is a glossy dark brown, and, with warm olive skin, she’s practically glowing.
Her long lashes are to die for, and her brows are sculpted perfectly. Not a single hair is out of place.
“I prefer Emme,” I offer, a little nervous at how friendly she seems. “It’s nice to meet you, too. I’m sorry, I feel a little overwhelmed.”
“That’s understandable. Don’t worry, there’s nothing wrong. We’re just wanting to go over some paperwork with you,” she says, stepping back as she gestures for me to enter her office.
It’s a standard one, if you ignore all of the pastel items. Even her desk is a shade of pastel pink rather than a standard oak.
It’s pretty, but I find it off-putting.
“Oh, I thought…” I trail off, shaking my head. “I don’t know what I thought.”
“Everyone is always terrified to come to HR, especially when it’s not expected,” she says, laughing softly.
There’s such a calm aura about her, and I think if I was less anxious, she’d put me at ease.
But, instead, it only agitates my anxiety that much more.
“Don’t worry. This shouldn’t take much of your time. I’ve got two things that have been brought to our attention, and we just needed to go over them with you.”
Millie gestures for me to take a seat at her desk where a lilac file is sitting.
My name is written on a pale pink sticker that’s stuck to it, and I frown as I open it up.
“What is this?”
“This is your personnel file. It contains the usual things, and?—”
“Sorry, the usual things?” I ask, cutting her off. I grimace. “I don’t mean to be rude.”
“You’re not. It’s a standard question. It includes personal information like your name, your designation, addresses, that sort of thing. Any employment information, including payroll, benefits, contracts, etc. Training information, medical.
“We’ve got files like this on every employee that are carefully maintained. That’s the reason we brought you in.”
“Is something wrong with mine?” I ask, glancing down at the first page, not really seeing anything out of the ordinary.
“Your file was updated yesterday, and it triggered a manual review from someone in my department. I caught it, and we just needed to follow up.”
I try to swallow, but my mouth is dry, and the lump in my throat makes it impossible.
“Are you in a relationship with Oscar Remington, Paxton Sinclair, Uri Rothschild, and Sterling Carter?”
My jaw drops, and my scent pushes out of me in distress. I bite back the whine, drawing blood from my inner cheek with how hard I clamp down, but I refuse to let this omega see how rattled I am.
“You’re okay, Emme,” Millie soothes. “Nobody is in any trouble at all. We’re just making sure it’s all on record, especially with your latest promotion.”
I freeze. “That was way before anything—I… this is, fuck.” I gasp, covering my mouth. “Shit, sorry. Oh, goodness. I can’t stop myself.”
Millie giggles. “Don’t worry. It happens far more than you’d believe.”
“I’m not even a big swearer,” I lie. Well—is it a lie if I only really swear in my mind?
I wiggle my toes to try and ease the anxiety. I don’t want to tap or fidget, but maybe this can help calm my body.
“Don’t worry about it. Let’s focus on your relationship with your boss—and, well, all of our bosses. The five of you entered a relationship when?”
“Um, technically we all only agreed to explore things on Saturday?” I bite my lip, trying to figure out how to answer her questions without actually revealing anything.
Are we in a relationship?
Or are we just packmates?
Is that the same thing?
I don’t know. We haven’t discussed any of this, not really. Sure, Oscar and I have had sex now, but a relationship that does not make.
“We’re scent matches,” I decide on, and her eyes widen. “Uri and I discovered that when my heat leave was denied.”
“Understood. That makes a lot of sense. Once things are… official, if you can update your files, that’ll be perfect,” she says with a cheery smile. “Now, the other thing that we wanted to discuss was?—”
“Wait, that’s it?” I ask.
She nods. “The only rule regarding relationships in the workplace is that they must be disclosed. For the superior in these types of relationships, there’s a few rules, but considering you’re all scent matches, there’s nothing to concern us from a legal point of view.”
“Oh.”
She smiles. “Now, you updated your medical records, too, and we wanted to offer you our congratulations.”
“I didn’t update any of my records,” I protest, twiddling my fingers together under the edge of the desk so she can’t see.
Now it’s her who frowns. “I don’t understand. Your file was updated yesterday at 12:30, and the only person who can do that other than you is a member of management.”
She reaches for her keyboard, pulling it towards her, and my heart thuds in time with each stroke of her keys. My head is pounding.
Who would update my file and disclose my relationship with the guys? Who outside of us even knows?
It’s not like my brother is going to be hacking into my file to update this shit, after all.
“Huh, that’s strange. It wasn’t updated by you or Mr Rothschild,” she says.
“Who updated it?” I ask.
“Oscar Remington.”
I sigh. Of fucking course he did.
“Well, at least we know.” She smiles. “Now, back onto the pregnancy…”
Sound entirely fades from my recognition as I stare at her in shock. My body is cold, each nerve flooded with ice, and every inch of skin is covered in goosebumps.
The hairs on the back of my neck stand tall as every organ just stops. My heart doesn’t pump the blood around my body. My lungs stop helping me breathe.
I just… cease to exist.
For one… two… I don’t know, I can’t keep count.
Oscar told them I was pregnant?
The same Oscar who feigned confusion about my meeting with Millie barely an hour ago? The one who seems to hate the idea of HR and thinks that they should be fired ?
How could he betray me like this?
After last night? After how I supported him? How couldn’t he tell me what he had done?
“Emme,” Millie calls, raising her voice. I startle, gasping as I blink once. I can feel the palpitations so painfully, the thudding beating so hard against my ribs, I’m worried they might crack.
“Yes?”
“Oh, Emme,” she murmurs, rising from her chair. I can’t move, I don’t even want to try.
How could he betray me like this?
Why would he do it?
“Drink some water.” Her soft voice isn’t commanding by nature, but she doesn’t have to try and force things that way. She’s an omega, just like me, but she’s honed her biology and knows exactly how to utilise it to her advantage.
Soft, gentle, calming. She can soothe even the most frightened person and con them into trusting her.
If she wanted to rule the world—she could, and she’d be revered for it.
“Good. Take small sips,” Millie continues, kneeling down beside me. I didn’t realise how light her brown eyes were until now. “Do you need me to call your alpha for you, Emme?”
“No, please, don’t.” I rapidly shake my head.
“By your reaction, I presume you weren’t ready to share the news?”
I give her a weak smile. “That’s an understatement.”
She nods. “I can imagine that there’s a lot of discussions for you to still have. Since it’s now in your file, you’ll have a few required meetings with HR. It can be me, or another agent?—”
“I’d like to stick with you, if possible,” I say, my voice still shaky.
“I’ll make sure of it. Why don’t you head home for the day, and I can send you an invite for a catch-up in a few weeks time? We’re here to support you, and we offer a very competitive maternity package.”
“Maternity?” I can feel myself pale, an unnatural kind of shakiness overtaking me. “I haven’t even considered that.”
My voice sounds like it’s coming from someone else. Like I’m watching myself from across the room. My head feels so empty, so light, as if full with nothing but air.
Millie’s still talking—soft, sweet, patient—but I’m not listening.
Because all I can hear is Oscar’s voice.
You calmed me.
You helped me breathe again.
You’re the most important thing in my life.
And yet—he didn’t trust me enough to tell me.
He decided for me.
I nod vaguely at whatever Millie says, signing something I can’t see, standing on legs that don’t feel like mine. I mumble a goodbye, offering half-hearted promises of looking forward to catching up with her later.
And then I run.
Not literally—not where people can see and talk about me. My relationship is already outed. The news of my baby— our baby— likely being spread around the office faster than mono on a college campus.
But emotionally, mentally… I bolt. I’m done. I can’t function, I can’t process. I just need space.
I don’t wait for the lift. I don’t go to my desk. I don’t even head up to the next floor to speak to my mates.
Instead, I slowly walk down all the flights of stairs and leave the building. The cold air slams into me, the wind blowing my hair and dress around. I don’t care.
It helps me feel alive.
I suck in a breath that tastes like exhaust fumes and rain and freedom.
I need space.
Space to think.
Space to feel.
Space to figure out if I’m still safe with a man who doesn’t know the difference between love and control.
With men who seem to think that deciding for me is better than deciding with me.