Chapter 58 Beatrice
BEATRICE
As predicted, there were photos of the two of us all over the internet by the next morning.
There was story after story telling lies upon lies about the nature of our relationship. Every single one made my stomach knot with anxiety, and add it to the awkwardness from the night before, and it was impossible not to question all the reasons we decided to do this.
But the worst one was the article that named me.
I have no idea how they found out my identity so fast. But they did.
And right there before me in black and white was information about my parents and the life I left behind.
The journalist—if I can even call them that—decided that I must be regretting walking away and needed to find a way to get my old lifestyle back, so I turned my attention to professional athletes.
It was the biggest load of bullshit I’ve ever heard in my life.
But it didn’t really matter that it was all lies.
There are plenty of people out there who believe anything they read. And now, I’m the bad guy.
The city’s beloved bad boy has let a woman into his life, a woman who only wants him for his status and money, apparently.
The only saving grace is that the salon wasn’t mentioned. The second that happens, I suspect all hell is going to break loose. There’s a part of me that hopes it’ll be good for business, but I fear it might hurt it in the long run.
Honestly, I don’t know what to do. Should I keep my head down and take a step back, allow Sienna to take over and hope none of this causes her more stress? Or do I embrace the onslaught of bullshit, hold my head high, and attempt to let it roll off me?
I know it needs to be the latter if I stand any chance of surviving all this. But goddamn, I want to opt for the former.
While the rumor mill has been going wild, everyone close to us has been amazing.
Hailee has been doing her best to keep the worst of the stories at bay, and she helped us come up with a post for Everett’s social media that officially announced our relationship.
I obviously didn’t have to bother, which I was grateful for.
Reading shit online is hard enough; I’m not sure I’d cope if it were coming to me directly.
Throughout the whole thing, though, there has been one man who has been a constant pillar of support and strength.
Everett.
He’s been…incredible.
For every bad comment I’ve allowed myself to read, he’s followed it up with a positive one.
Of course, I receive compliments from my friends, but there’s something about hearing praise from him that just hits differently.
And I can’t say that it’s doing anything to help my growing need for him.
Every time he looks at me with those dark, hungry eyes, all I want to do is jump into his arms and drown in him.
“Hey, are you nearly ready?” Everett asks, poking his head into my bedroom where I’m sitting at the table, tapping out a message on my cell.
Today is our ultrasound, and I can’t decide if I’m more excited or scared.
Excited because we get to see our little one again. And this time, I’m hoping it’ll be recognizable as a baby. But also scared for exactly the same reason.
My heart races and butterflies continue fluttering in my stomach.
This ultrasound marks the halfway point. I’m no longer newly pregnant. We don’t have nine months to process all this.
My breathing begins to increase as the panic starts to hit.
We’re going to have a baby. A real-life person who is going to need us for everything, and we…we’re expected to know what we’re doing.
“Whoa, what’s going on?” Everett asks, inviting himself into my room when he sees what I can only assume is a look of utter fear on my face.
“We’re going to be parents,” I blurt, as if this is news to us.
“Uh, yeah, sweetheart. That’s kind of where this is going,” he says with a smirk.
He looks so calm, so relaxed. I don’t know why I’m surprised; he’s been the same at every one of my appointments so far.
“Why are you always so calm?” I snap, needing him to get on the panic train with me.
He chuckles, but there’s little humor in it.
“Trust me, I’m not calm. I’ve just perfected the look over the years. If I show fear on the ice, I’m fucked. I’m the one who should be feared, not the other way around.”
His words cause another part of me to be beating right along with my heart.
Damn, I can’t wait to see him back on the ice, being all commanding and dominant.
But also…that’ll mean he’s constantly leaving, and I can’t imagine anything worse.
“Underneath this,” he says, waving his hand toward his stoic face, “I’m a fucking mess.”
I shake my head. “It’s okay to be nervous.” I’m not sure if I’m saying it more for him or myself.
“I’m not nervous. I’m terrified. I’ve gone from barely being able to look after myself, to having to look after you, and then—” He presses his hand to my stomach.
“I never asked you to look after me,” I argue.
His eyes lift from my stomach to stare into mine.
“No, you never asked anything of me than to be present for our child. And that’s one of the biggest reasons why I want to look after you.
You’re not here out of some fucked-up illusion that you’re going to get something out of me and our relationship; you’re here because you want to be. ”
“Or because my apartment was basically a dump.”
“Besides the point,” he laughs. “What we’re going, despite all the noise, feels right, don’t you think?”
I nod, because there isn’t any other way I can respond with the size of the lump that’s crawled up my throat.
Being here with Everett feels…fuck, it feels like home, and that’s just as terrifying as the baby I’m growing because of how much it’s going to hurt when it’s all over.
“However fucked up, we’re a little family. And thanks to this little one, we always will be.”
My gaze drops to where his hand still rests on my stomach.
Family.
It sounds too good to be true. But that’s how I feel when I’m with Everett.
“What if you—” I cut my words off, afraid to finish the thought.
“What if I what, sweetheart?”
“What if you meet someone else and want a family with them?”
His eyes bounce between mine, and I swear I can see some pain within them.
“Is that what you think about? Meeting someone else, starting a family with them?” he asks, his voice rough with emotion that I’m not sure he really wants me to hear.
“What? No. Not at all. I don’t want anyone else. I don’t want—”
“So why do you think I do?” he asks, his brow wrinkled.
“B-because you’re Everett Donnelly. You’ll get bored with me and—”
My words are cut off as he steps into my body, forcing me to move back until my ass hits the vanity I was sitting at. His fingers grip my jaw, holding me exactly where he wants me.
“Do I give you the impression that I’m bored with you?” he rasps.
I swallow before folding my lips between my teeth and shaking my head.
“No. And do you know why?”
“No,” I squeak, my temperature soaring with his proximity.
“Because I’m not. Not once since I met you have I been bored by you. I lo…I like having you here. I like coming home and knowing that you’ll be here. And I fucking hate when I come home and you’re not. It feels cold and empty without you.”
“Oh,” I breathe.
“Yeah. Oh. There have only ever been a handful of people in my life I truly look forward to hanging out with. And I can assure you that there has only ever been one woman on that short list, and she’s my sister.
But you…fuck, Bea.” He lifts his free hand and taps his temple.
“You’re in here. You’ve always been in here. ”
My heart slams against my ribs.
“You make me think about things I’ve never even considered wanting before.
You’ve given me things that I didn’t think I needed in my life.
But here you are, throwing everything I thought I knew about myself and my life into fucking chaos, and do you know what?
” I shake my head again, scared to speak in case he stops talking.
“I’m fucking here for it.” His hands suddenly drop to my thighs, and he sweeps me from my feet, setting my ass on the vanity and stepping between my legs.
His eyes frantically search mine as his giant palm wraps around the side of my neck, his thumb caressing my cheek before his forehead presses against mine. “I’m here for all of it.”
I stare into his dark eyes, seeing nothing but raw honesty reflected back at me.
His minty breath tickles over my face. His full lips are right there for the taking. Every single inch of me screams at me to do it. To take what I’ve been craving since the last time we kissed.
It would be so easy. Too fucking easy.
But that’s just the problem—because while diving into this would be easy, the end will be heart shattering, and I can’t push that aside.
It’s fake.
Everything between you is fake.
He only wants you because you’re here, and he’s not allowed anyone else.
All these stupid thoughts continue to spiral through my head despite the hard evidence that none of it is true staring me dead in the eyes.
“I’ll give you anything, sweetheart,” he murmurs, no doubt able to feel my racing pulse against his palm. “All you’ve got to do is say it, and I’m there.”
Kiss me.
The words dance right on the tip of my tongue, but they refuse to break free.
Forcing my eyes to close, I sever the connection between us.
“We’re going to be late,” I mutter.
“Y-yeah. You’re right. Now isn’t the time.” Coldness rushes over me as he takes a step back.
With my head down, it’s impossible to miss the larger-than-average bulge in his pants.
Desire rushes through me, and my grip on the counter tightens until my knuckles turn white.
Quickly, he spins on his heels and marches from the room, shooting, “I’m just going to need a minute,” over his shoulder before he disappears into his bedroom.
“Fuck,” I breathe, my head falling back as regret coils around me.
I wish I could forget about everything and just accept what he’s offering.
I need it. Hell knows I need it.
The vibrator I packed is still doing very little to take the edge off my situation. And it doesn’t help that it’s so loud, I refuse to use it when Everett is home. And he seems to always be here, driving me to the brink by walking around shirtless with a pair of sweats hanging low from those hips.
A frustrated groan rips from my lips, and I hop down from the counter, slip my feet into my sneakers, and walk out of the room, ready to go to the hospital and see our baby.
Everett joins me a few moments later, his pants fitting as they should, but his shoulders are tense, and his expression is tight.
It doesn’t stop him from taking my hand the second we’re out of the apartment. And he holds it all the way down to the lobby, even though no one can see us.
It’s not for show, to try and convince everyone this is real. It’s…it’s for him, and that makes me second-guess my actions up in my room even more.