Chapter 43
CHAPTER 43
DIXIE
W ell, this is it.
I sat there, still as a statue, in the most glamorous dress I’d ever worn, staring at Hayes as his eyes bored into me with an intensity that felt almost unbearable.
He knew.
Not the full secret, but he knew there was something I was keeping from him. I couldn’t keep lying to him.
I looked down at my hands in my lap. The pretty blue fabric sparkled under the light. I had felt so pretty just moments ago. Now, I felt hideous.
The dress wasn’t supposed to feel this suffocating. It wasn’t supposed to feel like a costume. But now, after spending hours trying to lose myself in designer clothes and pretending that this life could actually belong to me, all I felt was foolish.
And worse, I felt exposed. I was physically covered but I felt like my very soul was bare.
“Dixie, I need to understand what’s happening here,” he said.
“I can’t,” I said.
The words caused me physical pain.
“Can’t or won’t?” he asked.
I wanted to tell him. God, I wanted to. But in my gut, I knew the moment those words left my mouth, everything would change. It didn’t matter that last night he’d told me he was falling for me. The baby might stop him mid-fall, leaving me with nothing but the hollow sound of my heart breaking when he landed far from where I stood.
There was no reason to believe he wanted a baby with a woman he barely knew.
I couldn’t tell him. Not yet. Not like this.
“Can’t or won’t?” he pressed again, his voice tight, the patience he’d once had unraveling thread by thread.
I swallowed hard, looking down at my hands folded neatly in my lap. “Won’t,” I whispered. “But I will. I promise. I just can’t yet. There’s too much I need to figure out first.”
“Figure out?” His tone was sharp, the anger bleeding through his words. “Dixie, what’s there to figure out? Either you trust me enough to tell me or you don’t.”
I looked up into his eyes. I could see it—the disappointment, the confusion, the simmering frustration that he was working so hard to contain. I could feel him slipping through my fingers. I was going to lose him. “It’s not about trust,” I said quickly. “It’s not. I swear I’m not trying to hurt you or deceive you. I want you to know.”
“But you won’t tell me.”
“I will,” I repeated, my voice breaking. “Just not yet.”
I could feel it happening. The space between us was growing, widening with every second that passed. He was pulling away. His body language shifted, his shoulders stiffening, his hands curling into loose fists on his knees. He was retreating into the same guarded fortress he’d been in when I first met him.
He physically moved away from me on the couch.
“Maybe we should take some space,” he said finally, the words landing like a punch to my stomach.
“Space?” My voice was barely a whisper.
“This feels like a game, Dixie. And I don’t play games.”
“It’s not a game!” I blurted, desperation creeping into my voice. “Everything I said last night was true. Please, Hayes, don’t give up on me.”
“I’m not,” he said firmly, though his tone softened. “It just feels like you’re giving up on me. I don’t beg for what I want, Dixie. Ever. I take it. But…”
“But?” I echoed, leaning forward, my breath catching in my throat.
He shook his head, exhaling as if he didn’t have the energy to finish the sentence. “Get changed. I’ll drive you home.”
Numb. That was how I felt as I got up and made my way to the bedroom to change out of the dress. My legs moved on autopilot, my mind spinning in a thousand different directions but landing nowhere. The beautiful dress he’d told me to buy now felt like a cruel joke as I unzipped it and slipped into the clothes I had worn when he picked me up yesterday. I placed the beautiful gown back into the garment bag. I left it lying on the bed with the other bags.
There was no way I was going to be taking the clothes home. The total was over five grand. I didn’t deserve to have them. I understood that.
When I walked back out to the living room, he was already standing by the door, keys in hand. He didn’t say anything as we rode down in the elevator. We made our way to his car in silence. He didn’t speak and neither did I. The silence was deafening. Neither of us seemed willing—or able—to say what we were thinking.
I knew I only had to tell him the truth and this would be resolved. It wouldn’t be over, but we would at least be able to talk about the pregnancy.
The drive back to my apartment felt endless. I spent the entire time staring out the window, watching the city blur past. Every now and then, I’d glance at him, hoping for a sign that he wasn’t as upset as he seemed. But his jaw was set, his hands gripping the steering wheel tightly, his focus locked on the road ahead.
He was shutting me out.
By the time he pulled up in front of my building, I felt like I was about to shatter. He shifted the car into park and turned to me. The disappointment in his eyes was brutal.
“Take the time you need,” he said quietly. “Whatever this is, I don’t want to force you into telling me if you’re not ready. But you need to know I can’t keep going like nothing’s changed when, for me, it has. I don’t trust easily. This thing I thought we had is on hold. I can’t be with someone that I can’t trust.”
“Hayes.”
“I’m not saying that to be cruel or to push you away, but I need to be careful here.”
“I understand,” I said.
“I’ll be waiting.”
I blinked back the tears that threatened to spill and nodded. “Thank you.”
He waited as I climbed out of the car, watching as I walked to the building’s entrance. I glanced back once, catching his gaze through the window. He didn’t wave or smile, but he stayed there, idling at the curb until I was safely inside.
When I closed the door to my apartment behind me, I leaned against it, my chest tightening with a mix of regret and guilt. I wanted to scream at myself for not being braver, for not just ripping off the band-aid and telling him the truth. But the fear—God, the fear was paralyzing.
What if he walked away? What if the news about the baby was too much? What if all of this—the connection, the chemistry, the way he looked at me like I was the only person in the world who mattered—was fragile enough to crumble under the weight of our new reality?
I flopped on the couch, wrapping my arms around my knees as tears streamed down my face. I hated myself for being so weak. For being selfish. For asking so much of him when I wasn’t giving him what he deserved in return.
But mostly, I hated that I was so terrified of losing him that I couldn’t bring myself to trust him with the truth.
I pressed my forehead against my knees, my breath hitching as I tried to steady myself. Somewhere deep down, I knew I couldn’t keep this up forever. The truth would come out eventually—whether I wanted it to or not.
He deserved to know about his child. I knew his family and they had given me no reason to think they would ever abandon this child. No matter what happened between me and Hayes, I knew they would always welcome his child.
Hayes may not be ready for a relationship with me, but he would be a good father. I supposed there was a part of me that really wanted the total package. I wanted Hayes. I wanted our child. I wanted the happily ever after.
I sat on the couch for what felt like hours, letting the tears flow freely. My mind raced through all the possibilities of how this could play out. Would Hayes resent me for keeping this from him? Would he want to be involved with the baby at all? The uncertainty was agonizing.
Eventually, I dragged myself to the bathroom and splashed cold water on my face. As I looked at my reflection in the mirror, puffy-eyed and miserable, I knew I couldn’t keep going like this. The stress wasn’t good for me or the baby.
I needed to talk to someone. Not Frankie. That was out of the question. I didn’t want to talk to my mother about this. I had never felt more alone.
I pulled myself together and went to the kitchen to make dinner. I needed to eat something, even if I didn’t have much of an appetite. I rummaged through the fridge and pantry, finally settling on a simple pasta dish. As I moved around the kitchen, my mind kept replaying the events of the day.
The breakfast on the yacht with Hayes had felt like a dream. Everything had been so perfect, so blissful. I’d been able to forget about all my worries and just be present with him. And then it all came crashing down. The way Hayes had looked at me when he realized I was keeping something from him—it had ripped my heart out.
I sighed as I stirred the pasta, watching the noodles swirl in the boiling water. I knew I had to tell him the truth, but the fear of losing him was overwhelming. What if he wanted nothing to do with me or the baby? I couldn’t bear the thought.
I finished making dinner and sat down to eat. I had never felt so alone in my life. My sister wasn’t talking to me. And now she was sending her boyfriend to rat me out? What the hell? This had to be her weird revenge for me accidentally telling Simon about why she was mad at me. I told her secret and now she was going to tell mine.
“Ridiculous.”
She was playing with my life. I had half of a mind to call her and let her know she had gone too far this time. And why send Simon to Hayes’s home?
I sighed heavily and pushed the half-eaten pasta around on my plate. I knew I needed to tell Hayes the truth, but the fear of losing him was overwhelming. I couldn’t bear the thought.
I finished my dinner, lost in thought. As I cleaned up the kitchen, I once again thought about reaching out to someone to talk to. My sister was clearly not an option right now. Maybe I could call Mom, but I wasn’t sure I was ready to deal with her reaction.
I was on my own. All I could do was hope that when the time came, Hayes would still be there, waiting for me on the other side.