CHAPTER SIXTEEN
WYNTER
My key worker pokes her head around the door. “Wynter, are you up for a visitor?”
I hesitate. It’s been a long day. Therapy always drains me, like someone’s reached inside and pulled everything raw to the surface.
“I can ask her to come back,” she adds gently. “It’s Sofia Romano,” she says after a beat.
I frown.
Sofia?
Curiosity wins. “Okay,” I mumble.
When she walks in, I can’t help the small smile that tugs at my lips.
I’ve only met her a couple times, but she always looks put-together, untouchable. Today, she’s in tracksuit bottoms and a cropped hoodie, a baseball cap pulled low over her eyes, and somehow, she still looks amazing, like a celebrity trying to hide from the press.
“Are you okay?” I ask.
She drops into the chair beside the bed. “Yeah. I snuck away from Vinn.”
I blink. “Why?”
She grins, pulling off her cap and shaking out her long hair. “Keeps things interesting,” she says lightly. “We were at the gym. He got distracted talking business, like always, and I got bored.”
There’s something normal about it, easy, and it makes the room feel less heavy.
“How did you know I was here?” I ask.
“I heard Ray talking to Vinn last night. How are you?” she asks, softer now.
I shrug, picking at the blanket. “Better than I was.” That’s about as honest as I can be. “Being here feels a bit extreme,” I add. “Aunt Lucy’s always worried too much.”
Sofia’s expression softens. “They wouldn’t keep you here if they didn’t think you needed it.”
“They said I had a breakdown,” I mutter. “I don’t even remember half of it.”
It all feels distant, like it happened to someone else.
Sofia leans back slightly, her gaze drifting for a moment. “When I first came to London, I hit a low point,” she says quietly. “And then, when I found out I was pregnant, it got worse.”
I look at her, surprised. She looks like the sort of person ’who’s strong.
“The pregnancy made everything feel final,” she continues. “Like I was trapped in whatever my life was becoming. And Vinn . . .” She huffs out a breath. “He wasn’t easy to love back then. I thought about walking away. I thought about ending things completely.”
Her voice drops on that last part. There’s no drama in it, just truth.
“I’m glad you didn’t,” I say softly.
“Me too,” she replies, “but it didn’t feel like that at the time.” Silence settles between us for a moment. “I came because I wanted you to hear that it does get better,” she says. “Not perfect, and not easy in the slightest, but better.”
I shake my head slightly. “It’s not just Ray,” I say.
“Loving him . . . that’s not the problem.
” The words feel strange out loud. Too real, but I feel at ease, like she’s not going to judge me.
“It’s everything else.” She watches me, waiting for me to continue in my own time.
“He doesn’t love me,” I say quietly. “And he blames me for Anika. I was never meant to be in his world. I was just there for a while, passing through.” My hand drifts to my stomach.
“And now this,” I add. “He’ll do the right thing.
He’ll tolerate me because of the baby.” The word ‘tolerate’ tastes bitter.
“But he’ll never love me,” I finish. “Not properly. Not the way he would someone like him, from his world.”
“What do you mean?” Sofia asks gently.
I let out a small breath. “Someone who fits. Someone rich, confident, used to how things work around him. A woman who can sit at those tables and not feel like she’s pretending.”
Sofia studies me for a second. Then she smiles. “Wynter,” she says softly, “you’re not beneath Ray.”
I don’t respond, because it doesn’t matter how many times I hear it, I still feel like it’s true.
“Money doesn’t make him better than you,” she continues. “It just means he has more of it. That’s it.” I glance down, unconvinced. “He didn’t come from that world,” she adds. “He built it. And trust me, he’s surrounded by women who look like they belong there.”
My head snaps up and she gives a gentle smile.
“And he still chose you,” she says simply. “He doesn’t need someone who talks business all day,” she goes on. “He needs someone real. Someone who sees him, not just what he has.” Her gaze softens. “You already do that.”
My throat tightens. “I don’t think it’s that simple,” I whisper.
“It really is,” she says. “And unless you talk to him about how you’re feeling, he won’t get a fair chance to show you?”
The door opens and my key worker smiles awkwardly. “I’m sorry, but there’s a gentleman outside yelling at my staff because he wants Sofia . . . I take it, that’s you?” she asks, and Sofia rolls her eyes whilst I stifle a giggle.
“Christ, one minute it’s like I’m invisible, and the next, he’s stalking me. I swear, I delete this phone tracker every day and somehow, it’s back on within hours.”
I laugh. “It must be nice to be so loved. Thank you for coming.”
She hands me a piece of paper with her phone number. “Let’s talk more, Wynter. We’re going to become good friends.”
I nod and watch as she leaves.
We’re only in London for another week. That’s what they keep telling me. Another week of this place, of routines and talking and pretending I’m stronger than I feel, and then I can go home.
Properly home. Somewhere safe.
Somewhere he isn’t. Because distance from Ray is the only thing that makes sense right now. It’s the only way I can breathe without feeling like everything is about to cave in on me again.
And I should feel relieved. Instead, there’s this tight, uncomfortable ache in my chest every time I think about it.
I’m angry with Aunt Lucy for telling him about the baby. I know she didn’t mean to. She thought he already knew. But still . . . it wasn’t her place. It wasn’t her decision to make. That was mine, and now it’s gone, and he knows.
And that changes everything. Because Ray isn’t the kind of man who hears something like that and walks away. He’ll stay. He’ll insert himself into every part of my life under the excuse of doing the right thing.
For the baby.
Not for me. Never for me.
I press my hand over the small curve of my stomach, my throat tightening. I don’t want him here out of obligation. I don’t want to be something he has to deal with.
I’d rather have the distance.
Even if it hurts. Even if part of me hates the thought of him actually letting me go.
I keep my eyes closed, even though I woke moments ago. Their voices pulled me out of sleep.
Dad and Ray. Talking like I’m not in the room.
“They’d like to keep her longer,” Dad says quietly. “But the fees are . . . well, they’re not small. And she’s insisting she doesn’t need this anymore. Says we’ve made a fuss over nothing.” He exhales. “I don’t think she understands how scared we were.”
“I’ve told you, I’ll pay.” Ray’s voice is low.
“I don’t want anything from you,” Dad replies. “We’ve been through this.”
“If it’s what’s best for her, why the hell would you let pride get in the way?” Ray snaps. There’s a sharp edge to his voice now. Something restless, like he’s losing patience playing the nice guy around my dad.
“You’ll understand one day, son,” Dad mutters. “When you have children of your own.”
“I have a son already,” Ray says. “And in four months, I’ll have another child. I’m more than capable of taking care of the mother of my baby.”
My stomach twists. Not Wynter, just the mother of his baby.
“You think that gives you any rights over my daughter?” Dad asks, and I can hear the faint amusement in his voice. “Wynter wants to go home,” he continues. “She’s had enough of this place. And she’s doing better. I’m going to speak to her key worker and do what’s best for her.”
“Home?” Ray repeats. “As in Stamford?”
“Yes, of course.”
“No,” Ray says immediately. “No, that’s not happening. She’s seeing a therapist here, and she needs to continue that. She can stay with me and still attend her sessions.”
Stay with him? My stomach drops with dread.
“She needs her family,” Dad says firmly. “And let’s not forget you’re one of the reasons she’s here.”
There’s a beat. “A lot happened,” Ray says finally, his tone quieter now, less assertive. “We both said things we shouldn’t have. We were both hurting. But now I know about the baby, I’m not going anywhere.”
“What exactly do you plan to do with Wynter once the baby’s here?” Dad asks. “Because I know your type. And I won’t watch you break her again.”
“I haven’t thought that far ahead.”
“Do you love her?”
The silence that follows is heavy and suffocating, I feel it settle over the room like something thick trying to choke me. I decide it’s enough and open my eyes, avoiding looking at Ray altogether, and instead I focus on my dad.
“Just for the record,” I say, my voice cutting through the quiet, “I make the decisions. Not either of you.” They both turn to look at me. “I’m ready to go home,” I continue. “I don’t need therapy, or supervision, or people whispering about me like I’m not here. I need my own bed and some peace.”
I glare between them until Dad shifts uncomfortably. “I’ll go and get some coffee,” he mutters, backing out of the room.
The door clicks shut behind him and silence settles again.
“Why doesn’t anyone listen to me?” I snap.
“Because you’re in here for a reason,” Ray replies. “You don’t get to decide what’s good for you and what’s not.”
“I’m taking the tablets,” I fire back. “I’m going to therapy. I’m doing everything they’ve asked, and I feel fine.”
“Bullshit,” Ray spits.
“So now you know how I feel?” I ask, my voice shaking slightly.
His jaw tightens. “I want to know more about Josh.”
The question hits me out of nowhere and I freeze, pulling the sheets tighter around me, like they might shield me from it. I stare at him with my heart pounding uncomfortably.
“Just what you want to tell me. No pressure,” he adds, like he’s having second thoughts.
“Why?” I ask.