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“It’s fine.” I run my hand along the side of her head, my fingers tangling briefly in the wet strands of her hair before I pull away. “I fucked up.”

I’m referring to us having sex without a condom. A stupid, idiotic thing. Our relationship isn’t even close to stable. If I got her pregnant? That would be a giant mistake.

Huge.

Even her laughter is sad. “Yeah, you did. But I fucked up too.”

“I didn’t mean to do that.”

“You didn’t mean to have sex with me? Or you didn’t mean to forget the condom?”

“Both,” I admit truthfully.

Pain flickers in her gaze, and I feel like a shit. “I’m not on any kind of birth control.”

Of course, she’s not. “I figured.”

That’s why she panicked and tried to…wash my semen out of her. I’m sure she got a few sperm cells out, but come on. I came inside her. Deep inside her.

A shiver moves through me at the memory. It had felt good too. Skin on skin, no condom acting as a barrier. I didn’t even think of putting on a rubber. I was just in the moment, enjoying it.

Now there are consequences I don’t even want to have to consider.

“What if something—happens?” Her voice is hesitant. A little shaky.

“What if you get pregnant?” I clarify.

She nods, her lips pressed together.

“We’ll deal with it then.” I stare up at the ceiling, my thoughts drifting. I’m tired. Sex always makes me sleepy.

“I’d get an abortion,” she says without hesitation.

Alarm slams into me, making me pull away from her. “What do you mean?”

“I mean what I say. I can’t be a mom. First, I’m too young. Second, what if I end up just like…her?” She whispers the last word, referring to her mother.

“You’re nothing like her,” I say quickly.

“I’m exactly like her,” she counters, sending me a look that says come the fuck on. “I’m manipulative and demanding. Selfish. Vain. All of her bad traits, I have. That’s why I can never be a mother. I’ll do everything to my child that she’s done to me. Maybe even worse.”

That’s her own panic and worry talking. She’s been through so much, she would never do that to her child. I just don’t believe Sylvie has it in her.

“You would never.” I tug on her arm, pulling her back to me, and she comes willingly, her face buried against my shoulder, as if she can’t look at me. “I know you, Syl. You don’t have a mean bone in your body.”

She lifts her head, the incredulous look on her face clear. “That’s not true and you know it. I am horrible. I’m mean. You always said I looked like an angel, but I’m the devil in disguise. Or a fallen angel. I don’t know what’s worse. Pretty sure they’re one and the same.”

“I was just teasing you—”

“No.” She shakes her head. “Don’t bother arguing with me. It’s true. My soul is black. My wings are black too. That Halloween costume is the perfect representation of who I am.”

“You wore it when you were sixteen. You’re not like that at—”

“Stop.” Her voice is firm, shutting me up. “Don’t make excuses for me when you’ve said those very things to me before.”

We’re quiet for a moment, analyzing each other. Memories flit through my mind, one after the other, and I’m sure the same thing is happening to her.

“You’re panicking.” I reach for her, cupping her face, forcing her to look at me. “You’re not going to get pregnant.”


Tags: Monica Murphy Romance