Chapter Twenty
CIARA
Is my baby going to grow up without a father?
The thought plays on repeat in my head as I lie in bed, wondering if Ronan is ever going to walk through the front door again. It’s almost two in the morning, and there’s still no word from him.
I should have asked him for details about what he was doing tonight because not knowing is so much worse.
I’ve never seen him look so on edge. Maybe I should have begged him to bring me along. After all, the whole kidnapping fiasco with Mila should have proven to him that we should stick together.
But then again, that was before I knew I was pregnant, and I would never forgive myself if something happened to our baby because I couldn’t stand to be the doting wife who waits around at home while her husband goes off to war.
Except sitting still and doing nothing still sucks as much now as it did that day.
After getting up and throwing on some sweats, I head downstairs to make myself a cup of tea before settling in the TV room, which is just off the kitchen and has all the candy and chocolate I could ever want.
“Do you think we could manage some peanut butter cups?” I place a hand on my belly.
I imagine the smell of peanut butter, and instantly I feel the now-familiar churning sensation.
“Fine.” I sigh as I rub my belly. “Maybe I should be thanking you for finally curbing my sweet tooth.”
I stretch out on the couch, one hand cradling yet another mug of ginger tea as I scroll through the movie options.
Stephen was right. It really does help to settle the stomach.
I decide on an old 90s romcom. It’s one I’ve seen a dozen times before, which is why I chose it.
Right now, my life feels unpredictable and chaotic, which is the opposite of what this movie is.
I silently mouth along to some of the dialogue, feeling my spirits lift at the nostalgic feeling that washes over me when the familiar songs play in the background.
What would make this moment even better would be if Mila were here and we were gouging on cookie dough and pizza. But it’s the middle of the night, and she’ll likely be asleep, so I can’t even call her to see if she wants to join me.
So, once again, I’m stuck trying to find ways to entertain myself.
Ever since the situation with Mila’s brother, Ronan hasn’t allowed me to help with anything else regarding the business, and while I could just break into his computer and start answering emails, I need to stay on his good side for whenever I decide to tell him about the baby.
Which, at this point, will be in the delivery room when it’s coming out of me.
The morning sickness has eased a little, enough for me to have an appetite again. But when it does hit, it hits hard, so I’m trying to take it easy, which means it’s just going to be me and the couch for the next few weeks.
I take a sip of my tea, sighing at the slightly spicy taste, and let out a laugh at the TV as the main character faceplants into a wedding cake. It's stupid and slapstick, but I love it, and from the sound of deep rumbles of laughter just outside the door, someone else is enjoying it too.
I crane my neck to see down the hallway, and standing there, half-concealed behind the kitchen archway, is Stephen, looking like he just got caught with his hand in the cookie jar.
I blink at him. “Did you just laugh?”
He straightens quickly and clears his throat, a faint blush staining his cheeks. “Sorry, ma’am.”
Did he just call me ma’am?
“Please don’t ever call me that again. It makes me feel ancient. Ciara is fine.”
Stephen dips his chin before tucking his hands behind his back and forcing his attention straight ahead.
“Screw this. Get in here.”
“Excuse me?”
“You heard me. Come and sit.” I pat the couch.
“I should probably stay where I am. Focus on my job.”
I narrow my eyes.
I thought Stephen and I were, dare I say, slowly becoming friends.
Apart from Mila, I don’t have much of a friendship circle, and while Stephen wouldn’t be my first choice for hitting up a café for a matcha latte, I enjoy his company.
There’s something very grounded about him that helps settle my anxiety, particularly regarding the pregnancy and Ronan.
“What’s going on with you? You’ve been avoiding me all week.”
He offers a tight smile, and I have a feeling I know the answer.
I sigh. “What has Ronan said to you?”
“He thinks we’re getting too familiar.”
My stomach twists, and not in a nauseous kind of way. “Seriously?”
Stephen nods. “He didn’t say it outright, but the implication was clear.”
“Of course, it was.” I shake my head. “Well, screw what he says. You should come and enjoy the movie with me.”
“Ciara—”
“Sit. Down. Ronan’s not here, and even if he was, he doesn’t get to dictate who I can be friends with.”
Stephen sighs before deciding to give in to my demand. He closes the door to the TV room behind him and, though he’s still hesitant, takes a seat on the couch next to me.
“Ronan made it very clear I’m not to leave your side.” Stephen rubs his hands up and down his enormous thighs. “Which is… ironic, I guess.”
I huff a laugh. “Yeah, well, apparently sitting silently in the same room as me is too intimate now.”
He doesn’t reply, but the corner of his mouth twitches.
I grab the remote and rewind the last minute of the movie. “You missed a solid cake-to-the-face moment. Pay attention this time.”
I didn’t realize how much I missed just sitting on the couch and laughing at a movie while enjoying simple human interaction. It’s something Ronan and I have never shared, and the thought has my chest tightening.
I want to experience such mundane moments with him. But instead, my evenings are spent alone while he’s out risking his life to try and keep me safe.
“I need to tell Tamara about this film.” Stephen chuckles, and I smile.
“It’s a classic. Just wait, this next part is my favorite.”
As the female lead steals the love interest's clothes and makes a beeline for his car, leaving him naked and stranded in the middle of a restaurant bathroom, I start howling with laughter, and Stephen joins in.
Just as tears start to leak down my cheeks from laughing so hard—not just at the film, but at Stephen’s reaction too—the door to the TV room flies open and crashes into the wall, revealing a stone-faced Ronan.
My body stiffens, and Stephen shoots to his feet.
Shit.
“Ronan—”
But it’s too late.
His body is practically vibrating, and before I can even register what is happening, he’s stalking toward Stephen, and his fist connects with his cheek.
The sound is sickening, and Stephen stumbles backward, clutching his face.
He’s too disciplined to so much as groan, and he would never consider retaliating, but that’s what makes this situation even worse.
Ronan has all the power, but I’m not about to sit back and let him abuse it.
I jump off the couch and make a beeline for Stephen. “What the hell is wrong with you!”
But Ronan grabs him by the collar and drags him out of the room, ignoring me completely.
I run after them, barefoot and breathless, as Ronan leads him to the front door like he’s a dog that needs to be punished.
“Ronan, stop! What the fuck are you doing?”
He throws open the front door, and Stephen doesn’t so much as look at me as he stalks outside, a purple bruise already starting to blossom on his cheek.
I want to pull Stephen back inside, help take care of the bruise he had no business getting. “You’ve got some nerve—”
Ronan slams the front door shut so hard it rattles the entire house before turning on me, his face flushed. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”
I blink at him, completely stunned. “Excuse me?”
“You’re curled up on the couch with another man like it’s date night. What the hell am I supposed to think?”
I throw my hands up in the air. “Oh, I don’t know, maybe that I was watching a goddamn movie? With the guy you assigned to never leave my side!”
“He was too close.”
“Oh, my god, are you hearing yourself?”
Ronan steps toward me. “He’s married.”
“Exactly! He’s married and happily so, I might add. And I was beginning to think I was too, but the jury’s out on that now.”
Ronan looks like I’ve slapped him, but I need to make my point.
“What you just did to Stephen was completely out of order.” My voice trembles.
How dare he?
“You don’t get it—”
“No, you don’t get it! You keep saying you trust me, but every time I so much as talk to another man, you act like I’m cheating on you.”
His fists clench at his sides. “I do trust you.”
“Then act like it! Because right now, the only person acting trustworthy is Stephen who, may I remind you, was. Just. Doing. His. Fucking. Job.”
Ronan’s expression darkens, but he can’t scare me into backing down. He needs to know that I can’t keep doing this.
“You’ll end up losing both of us if you keep acting like—”
He steps closer. “Like what? Huh? Say it.”
“Like a crazy person!”
He flinches as he looks away. But instead of apologizing, he simply mutters something under his breath before stalking off down the hall and slamming the door to his office shut behind him.
I stand there with my heart racing and my hands trembling as the sound from the TV faintly filters through into the foyer.
I wrap my arms around myself. “So much for the mundane…”
I don’t bother going to turn it off. Instead, I head straight up the stairs and lock myself in my old room.
Most of my stuff has been moved over into Ronan’s, but tonight I have no intention of sleeping in our marital bed.
Not that I think he’ll even notice. It’s likely he’ll be spending the night in his office anyway.
Climbing under the thick cream comforter, I lie in bed and stare at the ceiling, my heartbeat still pounding in my ears.
My relationship with Stephen barely even constitutes a friendship, so what the hell is Ronan going to be like if I have a real friend who is male? I suppose my only friend of that nature is Max, and he’s dead. But even when he was alive, Ronan threw a fit about me meeting up with Max too.
So, is that it? I’m only allowed friends who don’t pose a potential threat to my husband's ego?
“Urgh!” I bury myself under the covers.
Ronan says he trusts me, but his actions continue to tell me otherwise. He trusts me in theory but not in practice.
He can’t stand it when another man is in the same room as me or when I’m not within his reach. And after tonight, apparently, not even when I’m laughing with someone who isn’t him.
I want to believe this is just stress. That the weight of the war outside is bleeding into the home he’s trying so hard to protect. But deep down, I know better.
This isn’t about the war. It’s about Ronan’s possessiveness masquerading as protection, and I am terrified of what he’s going to be like when he learns he’s going to be a father.