Chapter Ten
Bellamy
I stare at my husband across the breakfast table. Rogue is dressed in a white button-down shirt and slacks, the picture of corporate excellence even though it’s the weekend. Even though the civilized exterior masks an unhinged interior.
It’s one I’ve loved since I was eighteen years old, one that I can’t seem to get enough of. You’d think almost seven years into our relationship and just over a year into our marriage that the obsession would have somewhat cool.
Well, I’m thrilled to report that it has not. I’m as bewitched by him as I have been since that first day.
And now I have some news to share with him. News that I think he’ll be happy to hear and yet I’m nervous nonetheless.
I wring my hands in my lap, anxious.
Should I tell him now? Is this the right moment?
I’d thought about telling him last night when he’d taken me out for dinner to celebrate my graduation from law school. The words had been on the tip of my tongue all evening, but it hadn’t felt like the right moment. Last night was about the two of us and I’d wanted to keep it that way.
After dinner, he’d taken me to a nighttime roller-skating disco where I’d watched him struggle to take even one step on wheels and had laughed so hard I’d cried. Then we’d gotten ice cream and walked hand in hand along the Thames.
It was perfect.
Staring at him now as he brings his cup of coffee to his lips, his gaze steadfast on the newspaper in his hand, I feel the very familiar rush of love I get every time I look at him.
I’m so excited for this next chapter of our lives.
For bringing more of him into the world.
“You’re staring, sweetheart,” he notes, smirking into his cup without lifting his eyes from the paper.
Just bite the bullet, B .
“I have something to tell you.”
He sets his mug and paper down and looks at me, his gaze intense.
I wish he was closer. We’re sitting at the smaller of our dining tables, but it still feels like an ocean separates us.
Not for the first time since we’ve been together, I wonder if we’re telepathically connected, because no sooner do I have that thought does he get up and come to stand next to me, his hand finding the back of my neck in a possessive and comforting gesture.
“Tell me.”
He coaxes the words from me with his gentle tone, his fingers caressing the sensitive skin at my nape.
A smile blooms across my face and I meet his gaze. “I’m pregnant.”
Rogue’s hand stills on my neck. Weirdly, I feel it tighten, as if inexplicable tension stiffens every muscle and joint in his palm and fingers.
His expression, which had been so open and adoring on me seconds before, shutters, his features turning impassive. It’s as if a stranger takes over my husband’s body as he wraps himself in aloofness, his gaze a million miles away.
I’m familiar with this version of Rogue, with this chosen defense mechanism of his. I’m just surprised to see him pull on it now. Not only because he hasn’t reacted this way in years, but because I’ve just given him good news.
Right?
“Oh, that’s great,” he says, bending down to kiss me. “I’m really happy.”
I’m frozen in shock.
My body is wooden as his response lands. His smile is genuine, as are his words, but they lack depth and feeling. There’s a reservedness that I don’t understand. His eyes are haunted and won’t meet mine. I dip my head to search for his gaze, but he looks away.
“Rogue—”
“I, uh,” he starts, interrupting me. “I forgot I have an errand to run. I’ll be back.”
He kisses the top of my head.
“Rogue, wait—”
But he’s already gone, walking from the kitchen and out of our house without a backwards glance.
I stare helplessly at the door, completely at a loss as to what just happened.
I didn’t see it going this way. At all. I thought the timing was perfect, with me having just finished school. I thought he was going to be thrilled.
He’s the one who’s been talking about having kids for over a year now. His reaction makes no sense to me and frankly, it scares me. I don’t want to have a baby if he doesn’t want it as much as me, if he’s not in this as wholeheartedly as I am.
There’s a bothersome throbbing at my temples that announces an oncoming headache. It’s probably from holding in the tears that demand to be set free. But I won’t cry, I won’t let myself freak out until we’ve actually spoken. Maybe this is how all men react to pregnancy news?
I’m not sure, but I can be patient. I always have been with him. My friends like to joke that I built him with my bare hands.
It’s not Rogue’s fault.
He was never taught how to feel and process his emotions, only how to suppress them or project them onto others via explosive anger.
But that was before.
He’s changed over the past six years.
***
The longer he’s gone, the more the initial worry turns into concern, which morphs into fear, which grows into alarm and agitation.
When I can’t take one more second of this torture, I group call the girls.
“So what happened?” Nera asks.
I can hear Tristan speaking in the background, followed by Cato and Kiza’s answering giggles.
My stomach lurches listening to it, wondering if I’ll have that.
I never thought that I might not until a couple hours ago.
“There’s not much more than what I put in my text. I told him I was pregnant and he freaked out and ran away.”
“What do you mean, “ran away”?” Six asks.
“Just that. He left the house and he’s been gone for over two hours now. I tried calling him, but he hasn’t picked up.”
I’m chewing on the skin around the nail of my thumb. I’ve been going at it since he left, so much so that I’ve gnawed the skin down to the quick.
The girls are silent on the other end of the line.
Great.
I move on to my other thumb and go about mutilating that digit next.
“Oh, my god. Someone say something,” I beg.
“I’m sure, it’s fine!” Six says sunnily. “Just some jitters.”
“Six is right,” Nera adds. “He’ll be thrilled, he just needs a moment to himself.”
“You don’t run out of your house if you’re thrilled.”
“Thayer!” Six exclaims.
“I’m sorry,” Thayer says, her voice kind. “I just don’t want to sugarcoat anything. B, had you guys talked about kids?”
“Yeah, we had. At length. Actually, he’s the one who brought it up initially, which is why this doesn’t make any sense. At all. I don’t understand, I thought he’d be over the moon—” A noise interrupts me mid-sentence. “Shit, that’s the front door. He’s home. I have to go.”
“Tell him to get his act together or so help me God—”
“Okay, okay, I will. Bye,” I say, rushing them off the phone.
Rogue walks straight back into the living room where I’ve been pacing for the last hour. Dark energy swirls around him as he comes to a stop halfway into the room, his inscrutable, intense green eyes pinning me in place.
His chest moves with every deep breath he takes. For a long moment, neither of us says anything. We simply stare at each other, taking stock of the volatile emotions swirling around us.
I don’t understand any of it. I don’t understand why I can feel a distance that wasn’t there a few hours ago.
He shakes his head slowly and then lifts his gaze back to mine, the skin around his eyes creased with regret.
“I’m sorry.”
The apology is clear in his tone, his voice thick with obvious misery. It pulls at me, beckoning me to go to him. I close the distance between us and wrap him up in a hug. He drags me into him, holding me tightly against his chest like he never wants to let go.
I breathe a small sigh of relief. He had me worried for a second.
I’m just happy he’s home.
“Where were you?”
His voice is muffled against my neck when he answers. “I went for a walk on the banks of the river.”
I release him and push against his chest. He tries to hold onto me, but I step out of his embrace and put space between us.
He reaches for me but his arms fall limply to his sides when I move away.
I turn to face him once more and find him looking as tormented as when he first walked in.
“What happened to you, Rogue? Why did you leave? Did you…” My words catch on the mass stuck in my throat. I can barely get the words out. “Do you not want this baby?”
He works his jaw back and forth as he seems to mull his answer over. The silence draws out for an unbearably torturous amount of time.
Oh, god.
Anything other than an immediate ‘yes’ from him is horrible. It isn’t enough.
There are no words to describe the emotion that claws at my insides. It feels like grief and disappointment bundled into one, like someone just plunged a dagger right through my heart.
A long-held tear escapes and slips down my cheek. I look to the side and whisk it briskly away with my index before he can see it.
“Well, the good news is it’s not too late. We can get it taken care of,” I say, my voice emotionless.
“Bell.”
My name rips from his lips hoarsely, heavy with feeling. He calls to me to meet his gaze, but I can’t.
I can’t.
“I’ll make an appointment with a doctor and it’ll be like it never happened.”
“Bellamy.”
I can’t bear to think about it. The thought alone flays me alive—I can’t imagine actually going through with it.
But it’s what I have to do.
It’s better this way.
Better than having a baby with someone who isn’t a hundred percent on this journey with me.
“ Bellamy .”
Rogue’s stern voice cuts through my spiraling thoughts like a knife. The strict authoritativeness of his tone forces me to finally look at him.
He walks up to me, a massive thunderstorm raging in his eyes as he approaches. There’s everything in his gaze; love, fear, anger, possessiveness.
It’s all there, and it’s all aimed at me.
Rogue stops mere inches from me. His eyes drop slowly down to my stomach.
He reaches out with a tentative yet tender hand and presses his palm just below my navel. Electricity zaps through me the moment he touches me, sending a shiver up the length of my spine.
“I want this baby,” he confesses, his eyes lifting back up to mine. “I desperately want this baby. More than you could ever know.”
More tears pool in my eyes, except this time there’s no hiding them. They crest past my eyelids and fall down my cheeks.
I shake my head and wipe the tears away with both hands. “Then why are you acting like this?”
His throat works as he swallows with difficulty. I’ve never seen him like this, never seen him so unsure of himself.
“Talk to me,” I coax gently.
“What if…” His voice trails off. When he speaks again, it’s so low, barely a murmur, and I can hardly make out the words that slip past his lips. “What if I’m not a good dad?”
Shock makes me internally recoil. What is he talking about?
“Why wouldn’t you be?”
His gaze remains fixed steadfastly on the place where his hand caresses my stomach. He speaks the words like he’s saying them to himself, like they’ve been playing on a loop in his mind for hours, tormenting and torturing him freely.
“You met my father…He was a narcissist. An abuser. A murderer. He hurt me. He hurt you . I have to believe he wasn’t always evil, that my mother saw something good in him at some point. What if I turn out to be just like him?” His voice breaks and I watch a single tear fall down his face. I’ve never seen my husband cry before. His next words come out in a terrified whisper. “What if I turn out to be the monster in my kid’s story?”
“Oh, baby,” I cry out with a sob. I throw my arms around him and crush him to me. All too quickly I understand exactly why he reacted the way he did. “No. Never. You could never be.”
“You can’t know that.”
“Yes, I can.” I palm his face in my hands. “Of course I can. You’re going to be the best father in the world, I don’t have a doubt about that. Not a single one.”
“I can’t bear it, the thought that I could one day hurt them.”
“Rogue, I love you,” I say, pressing my lips to his. “I love you so much. You won’t hurt this baby, or any others we have. Erase those thoughts from your mind right now, because it’s not possible and I know that for a fact.”
“How?”
The dejection and agony in his gaze is excruciating to watch. There’s nothing I wouldn’t do to take it all away.
My hand covers his where it still rests on my stomach and I squeeze it gently.
“I know because I can see that the doubt and fear are eating you alive. The fact that you’re even asking yourself this, that you’re worrying you might one day be anything like him is evidence enough that you will never be,” I declare fiercely. “You’re a protector, you always have been. No one is going to love their children more than you because it’s your instinct—your very nature—to protect. Believe me, trust me, when I tell you that you have nothing to worry about. Our children will be happy and healthy and they’ll be loved . I guarantee it.”
“Bell…”
Little by little, I can see that darkness receding from his gaze. I’m talking him off a ledge he should never have been on to begin with, and with it comes an unfathomable amount of relief. That he would ever doubt himself like this is intolerable to me.
“You’re going to give them the childhood you always deserved. I wouldn’t be having this baby with you, I wouldn’t be over the moon excited about it if I wasn’t a thousand percent sure that you’re going to be an even better father than you are a husband, and you’re already the very best husband there is. Okay, baby? There’s nothing for you to worry about.”
He crushes his mouth against mine. His lips suffocate my soft whimper as he kisses me like this is both the first and last time he ever will. Our lips mingle with the saltiness of both our tears as we devour each other.
“I'm not the best husband. I’m so sorry I walked out like that,” he pants, ripping his mouth from mine. “I’m so fucking sorry. That you would ever think I wouldn’t want this baby…I fucked up. Badly. That couldn’t be further from the truth.”
“You scared me,” I admit, holding on to him. “It broke my heart thinking you didn’t want a family with me.”
“I’ll make it up to you,” he vows. “I’ve wanted this for so long. Far longer than I think you know. If you’d asked me, I would never have said that I’d have a reaction other than elation when you told me you were pregnant. And I was. I am . But the moment you said those words, it’s like my worst fears hit me in the face and started suffocating me. I realized that with my greatest wish coming true also came the possibility that I could turn it into a nightmare. I freaked out and I’m so sorry. You deserve someone who isn’t going to ruin your happy moments.”
“I deserve you ,” I argue, clutching his face. “No more, no less than you. My happiness is inextricably linked with yours. We do this next part together, just like we’ve done everything else that’s come before.”
He nods, swallowing thickly.
“Pinky promise?” he asks, extending a pinky my way.
Relief shakes a laugh out of me. I wrap my own pinky around his and look up into his eyes.
“Pinky promise.”
Releasing me, he reaches for something in his back pocket. “When I was out, I walked by a children’s store. There was something in the window, I don’t know why, it just stopped me in my tracks.” He shows me an adorable little stuffed pink bunny the size of his palm. “I don’t know if we’re having a daughter, but this’ll be hers.” His voice catches. “Her first present from her dad.”
I take the bunny and hold it preciously in my hands. There’s a little collar around its neck with a blank space.
“I’ll get her name stitched there when she’s born,” he explains.
I squeeze the bunny against my chest, overcome by this gift for her before she’s even here.
“I love it.” Reaching up, I cup his face, dragging my thumb gently across his cheek. “And you dared to think for one second that you wouldn’t be a good father,” I muse. “You’re already taking care of our little girl and she might not even be here for a while.”
***