“The fuck it wasn’t!” he snaps.
“You really think you’re in love with him?”
I nod. “I know it.”
“You barely know him.”
“I don’t have his fucking Social Security number memorized, so I can’t possibly love him? Is that it? Is that a prerequisite to falling in love?” I seethe. “Since you seem to be the expert and all.”
He’s about to say something snarky, but he reins it in. Instead, he takes a deep breath and shifts position so that there’s a little more distance between us now. “I’m sure he’s an expert at convincing women that they’re in love with him,” he says carefully. “But you’re too smart to fall for that, Jess. I know you are.”
“Don’t do that,” I snap. “Don’t make me feel like trusting my feelings makes me less intelligent. That’s not fair.”
“You know what’s not fair?” he asks. “It’s not fair that you keep making one terrible life decision after the next, and I’m expected to show up for you but keep my opinions and my advice to myself.”
His words strike a nerve, which of course means that he has a point. Usually, I’d argue, but I don’t have the energy today. “I’m sorry. But I wasn’t lying before. This will be the last time.”
“I doubt that very much.”
I take a deep breath and lay it all out there. “I’m pregnant, Chris.”
His eyes go wide and his shaking hand goes perfectly still. I imagine I looked similar when Anton gave me the news.
I reach out and take his hand in mine. It’s hot to the touch. “This time, it’s going to be different—because it has to be, Chris,” I say gently. “It’s not just me anymore.”
He doesn’t say anything for a long time. Then finally, he leads with one whispered word. “Jess…”
“Didn’t think I could make a worse life decision than falling in love with a Bratva don, did you?” I ask with a shaky laugh. “Guess you underestimated me.”
“Jess…”
“Please,” I beg. “Stop saying my name like that.”
He takes a deep breath and exhales softly. “I don’t know how to help you this time.”
“That makes two of us,” I say, grasping his hand tightly.
He returns pressure after a moment. “You can’t stay here, can you?”
“No,” I whisper hoarsely. “I can’t.”