Chapter 62
CHAPTER
SIXTY-TWO
CHASSIS
Heleni flips on the television, then looks over to me. “I hope you don’t mind reality television. I am seriously obsessed with this show. I can’t help myself. It’s a guilty pleasure.”
I shrug a shoulder. “I don’t mind. I haven’t watched much television.”
And it’s true. I haven’t had an opportunity to watch much in a while.
Before moving into Amos’s place, I was busy working and being played by Samuil.
I didn’t have much alone time, mainly because he wouldn’t let me have even a minute to myself.
If I did, I probably would have realized what he was doing to me.
Then, when I got pregnant, married, and moved into Amos’s place, I did have a lot of alone time, but I watched a lot of movies rather than shows, so here I am now, watching reality television I otherwise wouldn’t give two shits about.
“This is seriously my guilty pleasure,” she murmurs. I know it’s probably trash TV, but I don’t care. “It’s about couples who fall in love when one of them lives in a foreign country. They bring them to the United States on a K-1 visa, and I don’t know why, but I’m hooked.”
Lifting my feet to the sofa cushion, I rest my chin against my knee as I stare straight ahead and watch the television show that Heleni is so obsessed with.
I can only hope it will distract me enough to keep my mind from shifting to Amos.
I miss him. I don’t know when or if I’ll ever see him again, but I miss him nonetheless.
Even if he decides at the end of all this that I wasn’t worth it—or maybe my dad will tell him that he refuses to merge the club with the Bratva—I don’t know what the future will be for me there.
If there is a future. Maybe it means divorce, and I have to accept that, just like I accepted the marriage I never asked for. The fake marriage that somewhere along the way turned very real for me.
I stare straight ahead at the television but see nothing at all. I am not focused on this show, and I don’t care about it, not when it feels as if my life is hanging in the balance. The baby rolls in my stomach, causing me to feel nauseous but at the same time breaking me out of my thoughts.
Placing my hand on my belly, I close my eyes to feel him move inside me. I love this sensation, knowing he’s happily living his best little life inside my body. That I can give that to him, even if it feels like everything else is complete goddamn chaos.
Inhaling a deep breath, I close my eyes and let it out slowly. I hear the door open, then close, but don’t bother looking to see who it is, knowing it’s Gauge. That’s the only other person it could be, considering Heleni is sitting beside me.
I hear her breath catch, and I crack one eye open, looking at the television to see if something exciting happened, but it’s a commercial. I feel her reach out and curl her fingers around my wrist at my belly. Her focus isn’t on me, though. It’s toward the direction of the front door.
Slowly, I turn my head to the side, and that’s when I see what she’s staring at… or rather, who she’s staring at. It’s him. It’s my Amos. It’s my husband. But I can’t move. My body is frozen, almost like it’s glued to the damn cushion.
I can’t breathe, I can’t think, I can’t move. There is nothingness as I stare at him and wonder if he’s real or if this is my imagination.
Amos stands just inside the house, in a pair of boots and jeans that fit so well they look like they were made for him, molded to his body.
His shirt is so tight I can see his muscles beneath it and his cut.
His hair is a little longer than it should be, curling just slightly at his neck, his beard scruffier than it was the last time I saw him… I love it.
I love him.
He doesn’t speak. Instead, his entire body jerks before he takes one step toward me, then another. Heleni’s fingers fall from my wrist, and she moves from the couch. I have no idea where she goes because I can’t tear my focus from this man.
Amos closes the distance between us, stopping directly in front of me. I suck in my breath and hold it for a moment as I wait for him to do something, to say something. But he just stares at me in silence, his eyes searching my face as if he’s trying to commit me to memory somehow.
Then his lips twitch into a smirk as he reaches down, extending his hand palm up. Wordlessly, I slip my fingers in his. He curls them around mine and gently tugs me until I’m standing.
I’m so close to him that if I inhale a deep breath, my breasts would probably touch his chest. I almost test the theory, but he takes a step backward, tugging me forward slightly. I’m not sure what I expect, but it isn’t for him to turn and walk through the house, heading toward the back bedrooms.
He lifts a hand and points to the room where I’ve been sleeping. “This yours?” he asks.
“It is,” I murmur.
Heleni was nice enough to allow me to use her guest room, which also doubles as her craft room. I have no idea what her crafts entail, but she’s got a whole system of little drawers that are full of things. I haven’t snooped through them, but I’m curious as hell about it all.
There is a futon across from the system of drawers and a small nightstand.
She also cleared out one small section of the closet for me.
It’s not much, but it’s a hell of a lot more than I deserve right now.
Gauge called her at the last second, and we just showed up for an undetermined amount of time.
Amos walks us farther into the room. I close the door behind us, assuming whatever he wants to say to me, he wants to say in private. Once the door is closed, I turn around to face him and tilt my head back slightly so I can look up into his eyes.
I can’t read the expression on his face, and my heart races as I watch and wait for him to say something—anything.