“Hey, Dad…”
“It’s me, darling,” Scarlet murmurs into the phone and my whole body contracts. Goose bumps raise all over my skin and panic seizes my muscles. “Look, please don’t be upset with Elena. She overheard the conversation with your father and—well—”
“—she’s your Tate. I get it.”
“I want you to know that regardless of who the father of that baby is, that it will still be my grandchild.”
I hiccup when a sob escapes, but instead of rubbing the tears off my cheek, I let them roll.
“Scarlet, that’s so nice of you, but your son—”
“—was raised better, despite his past actions and who he is as a person,” she grumbles off the last part. “Do you remember the talk I had with you years ago about his grandfather and how much he idolized him?”
“Yes.” I rest my arm on the windowsill, swiping the tears off my cheek with the collar of my shirt.
“Well, that grandfather was also a grandfather to someone who wasn’t his by blood. Bishop, though he is much like his father, holds the same attributes as his grandfather. Even from the grave, that old man is still raising him—bless.”
I stifle an awkward laugh as I slide to the ground, but the tears come faster until I need to lean forward and rest my forehead on my knees. “Scarlet.”
“Yes, princess.”
“There’s two of them.”
“Two of what?”
Silence. “Oh.”
“Yeah.”
“Well, then you’ll have two of my grandchildren.”
I change ears as my eyes fly up to Saint. Her cheeks are flushed, but she’s chewing on grapes like she’s filming a fucking ASMR video.
“I’ll call you as soon as I know, okay? But Scarlet?”
“Yes?”
“Can I be the one to tell him?”
“Of course! Of course. Talk soon.”
I turn my phone to loud and make my way into the kitchen, lowering onto a chair. I need to pass time somehow, and the best way I see it, is I get to know Saint a little more.
“Where words fail, letters scramble.”
THE HOURS WOULD HAVE PASSED slower had I not completely lost myself in Saint. She’s set to fly back in the morning, and I’m here, lying in my bed wondering how I’m going to be able to tell him. The love of my life. That I’m carrying his babies.
His babies.
I stare at the medical form, reading over the words. Positive match. That’s all I see. I can’t see past anything else. My body is buzzing with adrenaline, but now—now I’m terrified. I’m scared because now he’s going to hate me for trying to take this away from him. He’s not going to understand because Bishop is reckless with me. He won’t see past his own wrath.
They’re both his. Yes, because apparently you can have twins and they can be from different sperm. Who would have known?
I look down at my phone. I know his number by heart, I could text him. No. I can’t do it that way. I have too much to say, and I know if I do it through a phone call, he’ll interrupt me. No. I know what I need to do.
Shoving the sheets off my body, I open the drawer attached to the computer table and take out a pen and paper. The paper is old and dusty with cracks and holes.
Turning on the lamp, I click the pen and begin writing…
Dear Bishop,
I figured I would write to you by hand since you can trace just about everything else. First of all… I’m sorry for the pain I have caused you and the boys—my boys. I know Tillie will be taking care of you all, but I needed to get away. I needed to be away from you right now. I can’t explain. I can’t say why. But please don’t forget me, Bishop. Don’t forget Madship.
It drives me crazy to know you would have moved on from me, but this is something that I had to do in order for you and me to both heal.
I’m sorry for failing you and not being the strong woman that you needed to stand by your throne. Maybe another lifetime with different circumstances. Maybe fate will give us another chance.
There is something I need to tell you though and writing it in a letter is so much easier than telling you in person. God. This is so hard… so freaking hard because I wish we could be together—happy and how we were. You’re my soulmate, my best friend, and the love of my life. I’m sorry you have to find out this way.
I’m pregnant.
I lift the pen from the paper, rereading the lines over and over again. After everything that I’ve just endured. Months of pain, anguish, and fucking neglect. This is what comes to me when I have his undivided attention?
Nope. Not going to happen. He’s about to hear me roar.
Tearing the paper away, I scrunch it up and toss it into the trash by my feet. Anger wraps itself around the heavy beating of my heart as all the emotions I’ve contained throughout these past months pulse through my fingertips.