“Why are you here?”
He sighed. “Can we talk?”
“It won’t change anything.”
“Maybe not. Please?”
It didn’t seem right letting my ex-fiancé into my husband’s house, but I was exhausted and didn’t have the energy to force him to leave. I could hear what he had to say and then he could go.
When I went inside I headed straight to the kitchen, figuring he would follow. I tossed my purse on the kitchen table and then went to the cupboard to get a glass that I filled with cold water from the dispenser in the refrigerator. I didn’t bother offering him any. I didn’t want anything that would have him staying longer than necessary.
"Nice place."
With my glass in hand, I turned to look at him, leaning against the counter as he stood by the dining table and studied the kitchen.
"My husband will be home soon."
His grin faltered a little bit but not all the way. "Do you love him?"
I did, but it seemed silly to say so when I had no future with him.
Dean tilted his head to the side. "That’s quite a hesitation."
Realizing I’d made a mistake, I said, "Yes. I love him."
Dean studied me for a moment. "Do you love him as much as you loved me?"
Exhausted and exasperated, I said, "Why are you here, Dean?"
He put his hands on his hips, sighing as he looked down for a moment. When he looked up he said, "You were married less than a month after you and I broke up. There's no way you could love him, at least not like you loved me."
I shook my head. "I don't love you, Dean.”
"But you did. And you could again. Your mom said that this marriage was a rebound from me. Maybe you were trying to get back at me. And it worked. Here I am, asking for another chance. We could still have everything that we talked about."
"No, we can't.” The fatigue was getting worse by the moment. But I knew it wasn’t the baby. It was the emotional drain.
"Your mom forgave me, so why don't you?"
I laughed derisively because my mom hadn't forgiven him. She hadn’t thought he’d done anything wrong.
"I forgive you, but that doesn’t mean we’ll get back together. I’ve moved on." I set my glass on the counter and unzipped my jacket, tugging it off and walking around to hang it on the back of one of the barstools on the island. When I turned my attention back to Dean, he was looking at a paper that had fallen out of my purse when I tossed it on the table.
"Hey! Stay out of my purse." I grabbed my purse and the paper he’d been gawking at.
His gaze zeroed in on me. "You're pregnant?"
"My life is not your business anymore." I put the paper in my purse and gripped it to my chest.
"Is it mine?"
I gaped. "What? No."
"How far along are you?"
“Three months." Why was I talking to him about this? "Now you can go."
His gaze scanned down my body to my belly and then back up again. He arched his brow dubiously. "You're lying."