27. Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Natalie
I tuck my phone between my shoulder and my ear as I move from closet to bed, pulling and tossing clothes around while listening to Danielle ramble on the other end of the call.
To be honest, I’m grateful for her rambling.
She’s been calling me nonstop, keeping me sane since I found out about it . The baby.
We haven’t spoken about it since that day—the evening when I called her, gripping my phone till it left glowing red marks on my palm. I broke down at the back of the cab, unable to get anything out other than the first sentence.
Danielle was at my apartment before I got there, and she hugged me until I fell asleep.
She stayed the next day and left to get some clothes while I was sleeping. I woke up to the smell of chicken soup, felt like the world was right again, took one look at it, and ran to the bathroom to throw up.
“How many bikinis?” Danielle asks, and I can hear her rifling around in the background. “You need at least three because we’re going to be at the beach every day, baby!”
Her excitement is for my sake.
The impromptu trip that she sprung on me yesterday was for my sake, too.
“Are you sure your boss said you could take the week off?” I ask, grabbing a loose-fitting dress and shoving it into my open luggage. “We don’t have to go anywhere if it’ll cost you your job, Dany.”
She makes a pfft sound, brushing away my concern. “It’s fine. I handled it. I told him my mom was in palliative care and that if he didn’t let me take care of her, I would tell everyone on the internet what a horrible boss he was.”
I let out a full-bodied guffaw, my head thrown back as the sound escapes me. The sudden burst of laughter makes me lose my grip on the phone, and I fumble to retrieve it. “You did what?” I ask, still grinning as I straighten. “Why the hell would you tell him that?”
Danielle doesn’t talk to her parents—not because they’re terrible, but simply because they never had that kind of relationship.
“It was either that or telling him I had cancer,” she says, utterly unrepentant. “Obviously, I wasn’t going to lie about something people actually suffer from, and my mom—” she snorts, “well, who knows with her? She could be on the verge of a meltdown right now.”
I shake my head, torn between scolding her and appreciating just how far she’d go to put a smile on my face.
She senses my hesitation.
“You know I’d do anything for you, Natalie. Anything at all. You’re my best friend, and you’re… well,” her voice softens, “I’m going to be an aunt soon. I don’t think it’s too soon to start spoiling my niece.”
A sob catches in my throat as warmth and affection—the kind she’s always shown, that I’ve always relied on—spills through the phone. I slap my hand across my mouth to keep it from bubbling out, but Danielle’s ever-attentive ears catch the strain.
“I love you,” she whispers, close to tears herself. “I know it might not be the best time, but I know you’ll make a great mom. It’s who you are, Natalie. Always looking out for the people you love.”
How did she know?
I sink onto the bed, my body trembling as tears spill freely down my cheeks. One hand grips the phone while the other wraps protectively around my stomach.
Through the haze of hormones, cravings, and relentless morning sickness, doubts have crept in.
Fears.
What if I’m not meant to be a mother? It was never part of the plan—never something I saw in my immediate future. Parenthood was a distant possibility, something to think about in fleeting moments, but never now. Never like this.
Ethan and I didn’t plan for this. We were two people caught in something that, at least on my end, I mistook for something deeper. I thought it was more than just lust. And him…
I don’t know.
There was a time when I thought we shared something more. I thought I saw him in a different light—a man prone to hardness but also filled with enough tenderness to light up my heart. There was a time when I felt the impossible was within my reach.
Foolish thinking, that’s what it was .
“Natalie?”
I wipe the tears from my face, sniffling deeply. “I’m here.”
“Are you good? Do you want me to swing by? I know the trip isn’t until tomorrow, but we could make a head start.”
“It’s okay,” I smile, pushing to my feet. “I just—I love you. That’s all.”
“Aww,” she coos. “I love you too. And I think we’re both going to love the ocean and the warm sand. Don’t forget the bikinis! It’s going to be a hot-girl summer for just the two of us.”
My smile brightens, and for the first time in weeks, I find myself actually looking forward to doing something other than sitting in my apartment and moping like a languid fish.
“I’ll talk to you later, okay?” I tell Danielle.
“Okay. If you need me, just call. I’ll be there before you know it.”
The call ends, and I drop my phone on the bed for a quick run to the kitchen to find my stash of gummies. Turns out that gummies have a way of sticking to the palate when nothing else works. With my special treat and my mood in sync, I resume shoving more clothes and shoes into my bag.
“There you go.” I pull the zipper to the teeth and stand back, hands on my hips as I admire my creation.
Two bags. A trip to forget my worries. The ocean current swirling around my body and the sand underneath my feet.
“I can’t wait.”
I just need to pee first.
The knock on the door knocks the thought from my head, and my brows pinch together in a frown.
Danielle? She’s perfected the habit of coming over unannounced, but there’s no reason why she should be here when we spoke not too long ago .
“She might as well move in at this point,” I grumble, although a part of me is happy I don’t have to spend the night alone.”
As I make my way to the door, my socked feet are muffled on the floor, and my shirt is gaping at the neckline—the result of too many wears and so many years.
“One moment!” I call out when I hear the knock again, reaching into the pocket of my sweats for a handful of gummies. Tossing them into my mouth and chewing slowly to savor them, I yank the door open.
My teeth halt their chomping. My eyes go wide. My breathing slows down, even as the space around me condenses into one tiny, crushing box.
“Natalie.”
It’s the way he calls my name. Like he’s unsure whether it’s a sigh on the tip of his tongue or an oath he dares not let slip.
He repeats it. “Natalie.”
Ethan.
His hair is disheveled—the unruly lines serving as paths for where his fingers probably dug into. His expression is ragged and untamed, and his dressing… what happened to the buttons on his shirt?
Three of them are undone. No. They look like they’ve been yanked off, and half his shirt is hanging out of his pants while the other is haphazardly tucked in.
“What—?” I start to speak with my mouth full, then realize it’s impossible with the gummies. I raise a hand, gesturing for him to hold on, and Ethan laughs.
A deep, rich baritone that carries relief on its fringes. His eyes brighten, too, and his chest rises dramatically. “You don’t know how good it feels to hear your voice,” he says.
How good ?
How good, he says? I chew harder on the food as words jam up my throat. How dare he come up with something like that, as if I’m the one who went away?!
He could’ve heard my voice any day. Anytime. Any fucking where.
Ethan’s eyes rake over me as I chew harder, and his gaze is raw and uncovered, spreading heat through my body. I feel it as it spreads, a shiver down my back, a warmth across my chest, and a bolt of awareness directly between my legs.
I’m mad.
Terribly angry. Yet, I can’t stop my body from acting the part of a traitor. The weeks that passed should’ve dulled the effect Ethan once had on me, but his possessive gaze, mapping across my curves, claiming me without a word, dissolves my resolve.
I hate it.
I hate that I still ache for him, even as the weight of our mistakes lingers between us. My anger simmers, dulled by the time it takes to find the right words, and when they finally come, they lack the bite I need them to have.
“You don’t get to just show up at my door and expect me to play host, Ethan.” My fingers tighten around the doorknob. “I’m not in a welcoming mood today.”
I push the door closed, but his foot shoots forward, wedging itself in the gap. The sickening thud of wood meeting bone makes me flinch.
An apology tumbles from my lips before I can stop it. “I’m sorry.”
He shakes his head, eyes locking onto mine with something raw, something almost… broken. “No, I’m sorry.” His voice is quiet, nearly hoarse. “I have no right to be here.”
“That’s right.”
“But I needed to see you, Natalie.” He exhales, the sound heavy, aching. “I had to.”
There’s something in his voice, a tenderness I don’t want to acknowledge—something that makes my chest tighten. I tell myself to look away from his eyes, to keep the door closed so I don’t have to hurt again.
Yet… against my better judgment, I find myself questioning my ability to make the right decision.
Ethan runs his hand through his hair with a ragged breath. “Anthony is dead,” he murmurs. “I killed him.”
What?
What the fuck?
I stagger at his confession, taking a step back. My hand goes to my stomach as the image of blood and death runs through my head, making me sick.
Why would he tell me something like that? A threat? That he can do the same to me if I don’t let him have what he wants?
Fear ravages through my blood, but I force it to purge, pushing back with defiance. My eyes meet Ethan’s, and I hold my breath, forcing strength into my bones.
I know what he is—a dangerous man. Terrible. Hard. I know what he is.
The man who killed my parents.
But I won’t let him control me, not when I have a life to save.
“You killed your cousin,” I say. My voice wavers a bit, but my chin remains rigid. Stubborn. “Did he die the same way you killed my parents?”