CHAPTER 6 #2
I’ve heard that people’s lives flash in front of them when they face death, and, in this moment, even though I’m not being physically hurt, I don’t see my memories or my regrets.
I see the life my baby will have with my father—and my mother who can’t be bothered to love anything beyond herself—in their life.
My parents will never be the grandparents to bake cookies or build blanket forts.
Their house will never be a place of sanctuary, learning, and fun.
With my parents, my baby would learn to be small, to be quiet, to pretend to be something they’re not.
They’ll have the life I had.
I stand up slowly and it has nothing to do with my pregnant belly and everything to do with trying to temper the fire burning inside me.
I open my mouth, but before I can say anything, Eric throws out there, “There is no way I’ll be raising another man’s baby.
” His voice is casual, but I can hear the threat underneath.
“We’ll be announcing our engagement in a month.
This won’t reflect well on the Prescott or Page name,” there’s an admonishment in his tone which has me snapping my gaze to him.
Eric is leaning back against the couch as if he has all the time in the world for me to come to my senses, and the overinflated ego which makes him believe I will.
He probably wouldn’t have been wrong about me if we were just talking about being trapped in a loveless arranged marriage, one I’d only follow through on in the hope of getting my father’s love, while knowing in my heart it won’t help a damn thing.
But we’re not just talking about me now. We’re also talking about my baby. I can’t even imagine the kind of parent Eric would be under normal circumstances. Add in how this baby isn’t his? I shudder to think about what could happen to my child.
I won’t allow it.
With a glare that should have Eric feeling the hounds of hell nipping at his heels, I turn away from him and look at my father. His eyes widen slightly before he covers his reaction behind a neutral mask. “Did you just call my baby a bastard and tell me I should have aborted them?”
My father snorts, “I thought you were all for a woman’s right to make decisions about her own body?” He rolls his eyes like body autonomy is ridiculous and a woman having a choice about anything is the silliest thing he’s ever heard.
Yes. How ridiculous.
“I am,” I grit the words out through my teeth, “and it’s my choice to keep this baby.”
“Well,” Eric sneers, “I can’t marry you while you’re carrying some other man’s baby.
After it’s born and you give it up for adoption, maybe.
” He flicks his hand toward me and my mouth parts in shock.
His eyes roam over me and darken with lust that makes my skin crawl.
“Do you even know who the father is?” He makes a tsking sound and shakes his head like I’ve disappointed him.
“If I thought you were that kind of woman, Avery, we could have been having some fun this whole time.”
“You’re disgusting,” I snarl at him, and he holds his hands up in mock surrender as evident by the look on his stupid fucking face. “I also won’t be putting my baby up for adoption. I’m keeping my baby,” I state without a hint of hesitation or leaving any room for any other option.
“Then I can’t marry you,” Eric states like I should fall at his feet and beg him to reconsider.
“Oh no,” I fake distress as I press my hands to my chest, “whatever will I do?”
“If you don’t marry Eric, you’re of no use to this family,” my father’s voice is cold.
My gaze snaps over to him to see whether he’s serious or not. From the look on his face, he’s more than serious, he’s plotting my demise and my ruin.
He challenges, “You won’t be giving up this baby?” I shake my head no, and my father sighs like I’m the one being difficult and unreasonable. “Then, you’re fired Avery, and you need to move out of the house. We’ll keep your stuff there for 48 hours, but then it’ll all be thrown away or donated.”
His words hit me square in the chest and I stumble back a step. Tears prick the backs of my eyes, but before I’m lost in some sort of horrible parent induced shame spiral, I straighten up and stare down my father.
“This is the choice you’re making? After I did everything you’ve ever asked of me, including going to your alma mater for college and law school? After I spent my life trying to make you happy? After I’ve allowed you to treat me like a paralegal instead of a lawyer for years?”
Eric scoffs from where he’s sprawled out like he’s meant to take up as much room as he can in whatever room he’s in. The indifferent mask my father wears doesn’t falter. He simply gives a curt nod in response.
“Fine.”
With that, I turn around and make my way out of his office. I don’t look back. Hell, I don’t look at anyone. They can all go fuck themselves. The entire law office of Page and Prescott can burn to the ground for all I care.
It takes mere moments to collect my things because it was never worth making my desk mine. It would have been just another way for my father to look down on me. When I turn to leave, Tasha is standing there with devastation written all over her face. Her eyes go down to my baby bump and widen.
When she looks back up at me again, I shake my head slightly. “Not right now. I’ll call you later.”
“You better,” she hisses and motions toward my belly with wide eyes. “You have a lot to explain.” I watch as a lightbulb practically lights up over her head and she closes the distance between us. “Was it that hot guy from the club?”
The weight of everything that happened, everything that was said, starts to feel like it’s almost too much to carry. “Yes,” I whisper, not wanting my business going around this office which would be better suited as its own circle of hell. “I have to go.”
She nods absently, clearly still in shock.
When I get to my car, I’m grateful to have bought it all on my own even though my father tried to get me some luxury brand that was more about his status than my safety.
The door slams and it’s like the sound and being in the safety of my car allows the dam to break.
Tears stream down my face and I desperately need comfort, but I have no one to call. I can’t even go home.
I should have moved out ages ago, but I thought saving was a better plan.
Now I don’t have anywhere to live and a time limit before all my belongings become trash.
For the most part, I don’t care about the stuff at their house, but I have a baby book hidden in my room which I’ve been filling in for the last four months.
What the fuck do I do now?
My baby kicks at that moment and I rub over the spot and sigh. Maybe there is one place I can go even though this is not the way I wanted to do this.