I knew what he was not saying; he owned his brother now with this secret.
"What would you know about caring? Caring is a strength to me, not a weakness."
He cocked his head to the side, puzzled. "You really believe that."
“Yes, I do."
He shook his head slightly as if I was a silly child.
“Not that I don’t find your cynicism fascinating, but I’ve got things to do so I’d appreciate it if you could tell me why you’re here so we can go our separate ways,” I stated. His nostrils flared, once again reminding me that he was probably not a man that anyone dismissed.
“Our separate ways, dearie?” His eyes traveled across my body, leaving a trail of fire on my skin, not stopping until they reached my stomach. “I think the baby you’re carrying says otherwise.”
“This is my problem to deal with.”
“Do I need to remind you how this baby was conceived?”
“No!” I looked down, my cheeks heating at the memory.
He let out a low chuckle.
“Are you considering it?”
I looked back up, but his back was now to me as he looked down at my small table.
“What?”
He lifted one of the pamphlets the doctor had given me at the clinic. It was the one about abortion.
I took a couple of steps toward him as my heart hammered in my chest. No, I wasn’t. I wasn’t sure why. It was probably the perfect solution to all our problems, but somehow, I already felt some kinship with that little one.
“What if I am?”
He shrugged, opening the pamphlet and reading through it. “It’s your choice.”
Why did it sting? He was right, it was my choice and yet I couldn’t help the little wave of disappointment. He couldn’t care less about the life growing in me. A life that was half his.
Why would he care? This child was not conceived with love; it was a stupid mistake made by people in lust and a faulty pill,the cold voice of truth reminded me.
“Do you need some money?”
I frowned. Was he actually offering to pay for… “No.”
He took a step back. “Excuse me?”
I shook my head. I didn’t want anything to do with him. The only thing I wanted was for him to go.
“I won’t be remiss in my responsibilities.” He adjusted his cuffs.
“You said it was my choice.”
“It is…” he trailed off warily.
“Then my choice is for you to leave now.” I pointed at the door.
He frowned. “No, we need to discuss it. This problem is not only yours.”
“That is the thing—you only see this baby as a problem, don’t you?”