I go rigid. “You were late.”
“I didn’t get my period, and I kept getting nauseated every morning. I took a test.”
“You telling me that you’re pregnant?”
“Yes,” she whispers.
I sit forward, resting my elbows on my knees.
“Are you mad at me?”
“Why would I be mad at you?”
“Because you’re married, and Ruthie’s already asking questions about us, and now...”
“It’s mine?”
“I’ve not been with anyone else if that’s what you’re asking.”
“I’m asking.”
“Wow. Okay. If that’s what you think. That I went and got pregnant to try and trap you then...”
“Then what?”
“Then you can leave.”
“You want me to go?”
“Do you want to go?”
“Fuck.” I flop back on the couch. “I don’t know. It’s a lot to take in.” I scratch the back of my neck. “You want to keep it?”
“You want me to have an abortion?” Unshed tears glitter in those gorgeous green eyes, and I know I’m acting like a complete dick.
“There’s a lot going on with the club. Timing is bad.”
“I get it. You don’t want us. I don’t need you, Murder. Go ahead and be like everyone else in my life I ever gave a damn about. Use me and throw me aside. It’s all I’m good for, right? A hot piece of ass on the side because your wife got fat. You don’t care about me. Do you?”
“Shut your fucking mouth,” I warn. Her using my road name is pissing me the fuck off right now. I know she’s doing it to be a smart ass.
“Just go. I’ll be fine. I’ve survived worse.” she sniffles.
“You don’t know shit. Putting words in my mouth. Telling me how I feel.”
“That’s the problem. I don’t know how you feel. Do you care about me at all? Do you love me?”
“Do I love you?” I snort. “What do you think this is? That I just put up anyone I fuck in an apartment and pay their bills. That I’d risk everything for a piece of ass.”
“You never tell me.”
“Tell you what?” I grit, getting in her face.
“That you love me!” her voice goes high, and she chokes out a sob.
“I show you, pretty girl. I bust my ass every day trying to get closer to divorcing Ruthie so we can be together.”
“Then why won’t you leave her?”