4 - THE CALM BEFORE THE STORM #4
The house was silent except for their breathing. The door was still pressed against her back, cool and solid. Brock's arms were still wrapped around her, his face buried in her hair, his cock still softening inside her.
"I can't wait to raise our child together," he murmured.
Victoria's heart clenched. "You mean that?"
"I mean all of it. Every word. The house, the family, the future. I want to wake up next to you every morning. I want to be there when you give birth. I want to hold our baby in my arms and know that they're mine."
He pulled back just enough to meet her eyes.
"I want to be a father again. A real father. To this child. Our child."
"You will be." She touched his cheek. Traced the line of his jaw. "When the time is right, you will be."
"And Joey?" His voice was quiet now, almost hesitant.
"We'll tell him. We'll figure out how." She pressed her forehead to his. "But not tonight. Tonight, I just want to be here. With you."
Brock kissed her. Soft this time. Tender. And then he pulled out, and Victoria felt the loss of him, the emptiness, the trickle of his semen down her inner thigh. He set her down gently, his hands steadying her when her legs wobbled.
They dressed in silence. Victoria found her underwear, her jeans, her bra. Brock zipped his jeans, straightened his Henley. The ultrasound photos were still scattered on the floor. Victoria bent to gather them, and when she rose, Brock was watching her with an expression she couldn't read.
"We're really doing this," he said.
"Are you scared?"
"Terrified." He reached out. Tucked a strand of blonde hair behind her ear.
"But I've been scared for thirty years. Scared of getting hurt again. Scared of being alone. Scared of this exact thing—falling for someone who could destroy my life."
His thumb traced her cheekbone. "Turns out, I'd rather be scared with you than safe without you."
Victoria kissed him one last time. "I should shower before Joey gets home."
"Yeah. Me too."
He watched her walk up the stairs, and she felt his gaze on her back like a physical touch, like a promise, like the future she was finally allowing herself to imagine.
—
Joey came home from work, his laptop bag slung over one shoulder, his brown hair disheveled from a day of staring at spreadsheets. He found Victoria in the kitchen, stirring a pot of pasta that she'd been stirring for ten minutes without really seeing it.
"Hey." He dropped his bag by the door. Kissed her cheek. "How was the appointment?"
"It was good. Everything's on track." She pulled the ultrasound photos from the counter where she'd placed them and held them out. "We got pictures."
Joey's face lit up.
He took the photos like they were precious—like they were made of glass, like they might shatter if he held them too tightly. His brown eyes scanned the image, finding the profile, the tiny limbs, the curve of the skull.
"Oh my god." His voice cracked. "Victoria, oh my god."
"Twelve weeks. Right on schedule."
"That's our baby." He traced the outline with his fingertip. "That's really our baby."
Victoria watched him—this man who'd been her whole world, this man who'd held her hand through every doctor's appointment, this man who'd apologized a hundred times for a failure that wasn't his fault—and felt the guilt rise up like bile in her throat.
He didn't know.
He was staring at a child that wasn't his. He was tracing the profile of a baby that belonged to another man. He was crying—actually crying, tears streaming down his cheeks beneath his glasses—over a photograph that was evidence of the worst betrayal of his life.
"That's the nose," he said. "Look at that nose. That's your nose. Definitely your nose."
"I think it's too early to tell."
"No, I can see it. That's your nose." He looked up at her, his face wet, his smile so wide it crinkled the corners of his eyes.
"I want a girl. I know we said we didn't want to know, but I hope it's a girl. A little girl with your eyes and your nose and—" His voice broke again.
"I'm going to cry through this whole pregnancy, aren't I?"
"Probably."
He pulled her into a hug. His arms wrapped around her, and his face buried in her hair, and his body shook with sobs that were equal parts joy and relief. Victoria held him. Held the man she was going to destroy. Held the husband who loved a baby that wasn't his.
"I'm going to be a dad," he whispered. "I'm finally going to be a dad."
Victoria closed her eyes. Pressed her cheek against his shoulder. Let herself feel the weight of what she was going to do.
Not tonight. Not tomorrow. But soon.
Soon, she would destroy this man. Soon, she would take his father and his child and the future he thought they were building. Soon, she would become the villain in a story where she'd once been the heroine.
But not tonight.
Tonight, she let Joey hold her. Tonight, she let him believe his world was whole. Tonight, she let him dream about baby names and nursery colors and first days of school, and she didn't say a word.
Tonight, the secret was still hers.