Chapter 22
Roxy
Liam sits beside me as the driver navigates the late afternoon traffic. He’s been honoring my request and hasn’t uttered a word since the ultrasound.
He’s been like a silent sentry, creating space for my imminent breakdown. Not hovering. Not retreating. Just… there.
Silently, he helped me get dressed. Dealt with the hospital staff. Shielded me from reality. Not that I can avoid it.
Hours ago, I hated his guts, and now, I’m relying on him. That alone should terrify me. Facing my current situation alone feels so much worse, so I tolerate his presence.
I’m grateful for it.
And that’s where my problem lies. This man betrayed me, and yet here we are, and it feels like he is right where I want him.
Where I need him.
Need is the most dangerous word I know.
I don’t quite know what to do with that. I have no fight left in me.
So much happened in the last twenty-four hours, I don’t even know where to start organizing my thoughts.
My professional future, my relationship with the man beside me, my sister’s destiny, my family’s manipulation—it’s all overshadowed by the most unexpected news. Flattened beneath a single, undeniable truth.
I’m going to be a mother. I’m having a baby. I wish the joy wasn’t tainted by the circumstances.
My gaze lands on my hands. Curled to cradle my flat stomach, they already protect the growing life inside me.
By instinct. Not by choice.
A new emotion blooms under my rib cage amid all the turmoil. Hope. Perhaps even a tentative joy.
I turn my head. Liam is flexing his fingers. I assumed it was an angry gesture, but I’m starting to believe it’s his coping mechanism.
It’s how he deals with anxious situations. How he anchors himself when he’s overwhelmed with feelings.
The realization softens something in me I don’t want softened.
I didn’t want to find out how far along I was. I wanted to stay oblivious for a few more days while I came to terms with this twist in my life.
I didn’t want to find out how far along I was, not because I worried it would be his.
I worried it wouldn’t be.
And that scared the shit out of me.
But when Liam raised the question of the baby’s health, I couldn’t wait.
What kind of mother will I be? Jesus. I was so shaken by the news and all the shit that preceded it, I didn’t even think about his or her well-being.
Liam watches the traffic. But he is still here. The ultrasound confirmed the baby is most probably Romeo’s, and I’ll be a single mother.
It didn’t deter Liam. He is still here, refusing to take the exit I offered. I wasn’t prepared for that.
“Is it helpful?” I watch his flexing fingers.
He frowns before he follows my gaze. Lifting his hand, he flexes his fingers a few more times. “Sometimes more than others. I used to have panic attacks, and flexing my fingers helped me to ground myself. I don’t have them anymore, but the habit is still strong.”
I want to continue talking about him.
On the one hand, there is the need to learn more about this man, to fill in the gaps with facts, to replace the assumptions.
We know shit about each other. That’s not what our relationship has been, and for some reason, it makes me sad.
Loss without ownership. Grief without permission.
But my need to talk is more selfish. If we talk about him, I might get out of my head.
At the moment, I can’t be thinking about me, the baby, the future. It’s too much.
“What happened to your knuckles?” He must have punched something. Or someone? Jesus.
“One of those times when flexing didn’t help.” He squeezes his fist and lowers his hand, not looking at me.
“Does it hurt?”
“Physical pain is the least of my worries right now, Thunder. How are you?”
I flinch. The question lands like a shove toward an open edge. No, no, no, I can’t go there. I don’t know how I am. Desperate to keep the topic on him, I say, “I can’t imagine you had panic attacks. Is that why you don’t socialize?”
“You noticed.” He chuckles humorously.
“I was surprised when you took me to the restaurant. I didn’t think you enjoyed crowds.”
He nods. “You were not eating. I had to do something.”
“So you sacrificed your comfort,” I tease. “Or you were hoping to get information out of me.”
He winces, but then he shrugs. “It paid off.”
“I didn’t have information to share. You didn’t find out anything.”
“I found something.” He turns to me, boring his eyes into mine.
My breath hitches, the memory of us in the cloakroom rushing heat into my cheeks. Liam holds my gaze, and the small space gets hot.
I swallow and press my thighs together. What the hell?
Oh my, I’ve been so horny because of the pregnancy. I remember reading about it somewhere.
I look away, not sure how to respond to his scorching gaze. Why is he still here? He must have calculated that it can’t be his child. And yet he’s looking at me like… like he cares.
“Where are we going?” I snap out of my spiral when the car stops on a street in front of a row of brownstones.
“My brother is in Tuscany with his wife for a few months. I asked if I could stay at his place.”
“Oh.” His words sting of rejection.
He didn’t even bother to drop me first? I can’t blame him. Despite the brief moment of strange intimacy we just shared, he probably can’t wait to get rid of me.
That’s a good thing. I need to be alone to figure out what to do next. What does this mean for me and for Tee?
“He has a guest apartment on the top level for us to stay in.” Liam steps out of the car.
For us to stay in?
My door opens, and Liam extends his hand to help me out. I take it, even though I’m not sure I want to step out of this car. Taking his hand feels like conceding something I don’t remember offering.
“We are staying at Xander’s house?” I search Liam’s face. Fuck, it’s exhausting to talk when you’re trying to avoid most topics.
“For the time being.”
“I have a home.”
He looks at me deadpan. “There is no room there for me.”
“So?”
“I’m not leaving you alone.”
His words unsettle me, as if I weren’t off-balance already. They are not romantic. Not reassuring. Just… final.
He gestures for me to move toward the stairs leading to the entrance. “After you.”
I don’t move. I glare at him, my mind trying to come up with a reasonable argument to return to my dingy apartment without AC. With a single, uncomfortable mattress and no food.
Most importantly, no company. While I want to be alone to gather my thoughts, I don’t really want to be alone.
Liam’s jaw twitches, but he waits for me to deliberate. As much as I want to assert my independence, I also want someone to be there for me.
And for whatever reason, he is willing to be that person.
My eyes drop to his hand. He freezes mid-flex.
“Two bedrooms?” I ask.
“I don’t know, but I’ll sleep on the sofa.”
Sighing, I move forward.
“Good girl,” he mutters, and I swear my ovaries do a floss dance.
We make our way to the third floor. The open-concept, exposed-brick living room and kitchen feel homely despite not being used.
Three glass domes serve as skylights, bringing natural light into the space furnished with a large sofa, a dining counter, and a Provencal-style kitchen.
I like the space immediately.
Unlike my apartment, this place feels lived-in, warm, and comfortable. Unlike the mansion I grew up in, this place has character.
Liam walks with purpose across the room and turns a corner. Staying by the door, I don’t quite know where to go or what to do.
It seems to match my overall existence at the moment. I hate the lack of control. I hate the uncertainty. The whole clusterfuck of decisions I need to make.
Liam reappears. “Only one bedroom. It’s yours, of course.”
“I won’t stay in your hair for too long. I just need to…” I don’t quite know how to even finish the sentence.
“We had a strange and long day. A lot to digest. Why don’t you start with sleep? Or a bath?”
“I think I’ll sleep first. Thank you.” I finally move forward.
“If you need anything, let me know.”
I trudge across the room, the dusk drawing shadows around the space. I reach the bedroom, but before I open its door, I hesitate.
I might be tired, but the unresolved energy between us will keep me up. I return to the living room and find Liam in the kitchen. With his hands braced against the counter, his head is bowed.
Something breaks inside me at the sight of this defeated man. Part of me is very upset with him for his betrayal and scheming. Another part feels for the man whose driving force in life has been revenge.
It doesn’t absolve him of his manipulations and lies, but it sheds a softer light on his actions. I have compassion for him. I just wish I weren’t his target.
Liam shakes his head slightly, and I step back, retreating from his view. Today has been eventful enough. I don’t want to react while being this confused and tired.
I tiptoe back to the bedroom. I should take a shower or brush my teeth, but as the door clicks behind me, I can’t hold it anymore.
Climbing under the covers, I finally allow myself to break down. I let the pillow absorb my sobs and tears.
I mourn the loss of my career. I cry for my sister, and the freedom that currently seems unattainable.
I fall apart because I’m exhausted. Because I’m scared for the little being growing inside me.
Because I grieve the relationship I could never have with the man who was never supposed to mean much, and yet the gap his betrayal caused hurts.
It fucking hurts so much.
And most of all, I weep because even if I saw past his actions and accepted his apologies, there is a baby I need to think about. A baby whose father I don’t know.
I don’t remember the last time I cried this much. The catharsis seems unattainable, which in my pitiful current state makes me even sadder.
The mattress dips, and I let out a loud hiccup. There is no point in hiding my breakdown because Liam clearly heard me.
Without a word, he slides beside me and wraps his arm around my body. He doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t offer words of comfort. He just holds me in his embrace.
No platitudes. No promises. No control. Just presence.
His silent support breaks another dam, and I give up on hiding my emotions and let go.
The pillow under my cheek is soaked with my saliva, tears, and snot. My body convulses in Liam’s arms.
The meltdown doesn’t cease. It slows down slightly, and the bawling changes to loud sobs, and eventually to softer hiccups.
The entire ordeal feels like an intense workout session, my body completely spent. Liam remains a silent witness, his embrace an unexpected harbor.
And as the darkness claims my weary brain, and the edges of my consciousness blur with only slightly relieved agony, a thought settles.
Far from gentle or comforting, it wraps around me with its terrifying clarity.
He fixed nothing. He didn’t even try. I simply felt safe because he stayed.
I broke down in the safety of his embrace.
I feel safe with this man. I can be myself with him.
And I really don’t know if that makes him my refuge or my undoing.
I’m fucked.