Or tries to.
But it doesn’t budge.
He looks up, something dark and possessive flashing through his gorgeous features, and I raise my trembling chin up.
There. Take that. I locked the door.
When he understands my silent answer, he says, “Open the door.”
He commands it really and his order, given in a thick rough voice, makes me press my hand on my belly and clench my wet, needy thighs again. “No.”
His cheekbones jut out in anger. “Open the fucking door.”
My heart is thudding in my chest and I shake my head. “No.”
His chest pushes out on a long breath. “If you don’t open it right the fuck now, Fae, I’m going to break it down.”
I sniffle. “Do it. It’s your friend’s house. You’re the one who’s going to have to explain why his door is broken.”
He studies my face, watches me wipe my tears, and his anger mounts. Putting both his hands on the glass door, he says gutturally, “You’re fucking crying, Fae, and I can’t get to you. I’m losing it, okay? So open this fucking door so I can make it better.”
Gah.
Why does he have to sound so anguished and so agonized over the fact that I’m crying? He’s the one who made me cry in the first place. He doesn’t get to make it better.
And I tell him that, even though my heart is twisting in my chest and I have to curl my toes to stop myself from going to the door. “You don’t get to make it better. Not after how cruel and mean you were. Go away.”
I would’ve done a lot more.
I would’ve turned around and given him my back but I feel something.
In my belly.
And I have to bring my other hand up too. I have to bring it up to my pregnant belly and press it with both hands. I have to bend down and look away from Reed. I have to look at my trembling fingers.
Oh God.
What is… what is happening?
Because something is happening.
Something… something that I’ve never felt before and oh my God, I clutch my belly harder when I feel it again.
It’s not pain exactly, but it’s something, and I gasp when it happens for the third time and something, a little thing, kicks into my hand. As if pressing back from the inside, and that’s when I know.
That’s when I know it’s her.
She’s kicking back.
My baby girl is kicking back.
She’s moving inside of me — something that I’ve waited for so long and it feels so different than what I expected it to be, and from those flutters that I’ve been feeling for weeks now — and the euphoria is so great that my knees give out for the second time tonight and I plop down on the couch.
She’s kicking inside of me and I’m about to tell him that.
The one person I want to tell everything to, her daddy, but I hear a crash.
A shattering sound, and before I can blink away my tears and figure out the source of it, he’s here.
He’s kneeling on the floor in front of me, both his hands on my hands that are still on my belly. “What… what’s happening?”
I notice the splotches of blood on his knuckles and I let go of my belly to grab his hand. “What happened? What did you…” Glancing up, I see that the door is open and there’s broken glass all over the floor. “Oh my God, Reed —”
“What the fuck is happening, Fae?” he cuts me off. “Should I call the doctor? No, of course I should. Of course. I just need to figure out where the fuck my phone is and —”
I put my hand on his lips to make him stop.
He’s rambling. He never rambles.
I stare into his panicked gaze and tell him, “Everything is fine. I just got scared for a second.” His breathing is still haphazard on my palm so I put my other hand on his and make it press on my belly. “It’s her. She moved, I think. I’ve never felt anything like that before. It’s kind of like the flutters but not really and —”
My eyes go wide and his breath stops altogether.
Because she moves again.
And his hand on my belly comes alive. The pads of his fingers dig into my flesh that has become harder now that she’s growing inside of me. When she kicks again, I see his eyes flaring for a second before crinkling slightly and so I take my hand off his mouth to reveal the most beautiful smile I’ve ever seen on him.
When she does it again, he chuckles slightly, his eyes on my belly, and I bite my lip at how gorgeous he looks.
“That’s my girl,” he whispers.
Goosebumps rise on my skin at his possessive tone and she kicks again as if at his voice, to say hi to him. “She’s feisty.”