I manipulate my lips up into a smile. “Looks that way.” I congratulate myself on sounding normal, because the truth is that I don’t feel normal at all. Instead, I’m nervous and stressed and twitchy, and I hate it. Because I should be basking. I should be lost in Damien’s arms, lost in this once-in-a-lifetime moment.
Instead, I’m numb.
Instead, I’m terrified.
“Nikki?”
“It’s okay.” Hot tears pool in my eyes. “Really, I’m—”
That’s as much as I get out before the sob escapes and fat tears trail down my cheeks. I’m not even tethered to the earth right now. I’m just a wash of jumbled emotions, twisting so fast I can’t even process them. Shock. Joy. Fear. Excitement. Surprise. Terror. Happiness. All battering against me, leaving me overwhelmed and numb and not at all certain that this can really be happening.
“Sweetheart. Oh, Nikki, sweetheart.” Damien is on his feet in an instant, and he pulls me close and strokes my hair. “Hey, hey, talk to me.”
I want to—dear God, I want to—but my words are trapped behind a curtain of tears. I gasp, trying to relax as Damien rubs my back, making soothing noises. “I—I’m sorry,” I manage. “It’s just—I don’t know. Hormones, maybe. I’m a mess.”
“Sweetheart.” The word is cut short by his kiss. So soft and gentle, I think I might melt. And when he finally pulls back, his expression is so tender it almost brings me to tears all over again.
He takes a seat on the couch, then settles me on his lap. I snuggle close, craving his strength and the safety of his arms. I want him to hold me tight. I want him to strip me naked. To touch and to tease.
I want him to make love to me. More than anything, I want to bury the quagmire of thoughts and fears dancing in my head under a blanket of passion.
“I love you,” he says, and only when he uses the pad of his thumb to wipe away a tear do I realize that I’ve started crying again.
“I’m okay,” I say, sniffling. “Damn hormones.”
I’m still wearing the skirt I’d put on this morning, and he strokes his fingertips lightly over my bare leg, then brushes his lips over my shoulder. I shiver, craving a much more intimate touch and the oblivion that I know surrendering will bring.
Except I don’t really want oblivion. I don’t want to hide. Not from Damien—never from Damien.
And yet there is no denying that I’m doing exactly that. I’m closing off. Curling in on myself.
It’s not a celebration I want, but escape, and I hate that my traitorous emotions are destroying what should be a moment of romance and joy.
I swallow, then push off his lap. “Bathroom,” I say, then rush across the suite to the master bath.
I close the door, sit on the edge of the Olympic-size tub, and just breathe.
A moment later, Damien comes in. I lift my head, blinking as I look at him through tear-filled eyes. “I’m so sorry,” I whisper.
He doesn’t reply. Instead, he kneels on the thick pile of the mat laid out in front of the tub. He rests one hand on my thigh, then cups my cheek with the other. For a moment, we just look at each other, and I wish that we could stay like that forever. That we didn’t have to speak or think or talk.
“You’re overwhelmed,” he says. “Your emotions are all over the place. You’re happy. You’re scared. You’re confused.”
I nod, blinking furiously so that maybe I won’t start crying again.
“Mostly, you’re hurt. And maybe just a little bit angry at me. But, sweetheart, you’re carrying my child—our child—so how could I feel anything but joy?”
“No. No, it’s not that.” But even as I say the words, I know they are a lie. He’s right, goddammit. He’s so fucking right. I wanted him to be lost with me. To be confused and overwhelmed.
I wanted it, because I can’t stand knowing that even with Damien beside me, I’m completely alone.
“It’s exactly that,” he says firmly. “Do you think I don’t see it? Nikki, sweetheart, you’ve been a part of me from the first moment we met. How could I not see the gorge that’s opened between us?”
Those damn tears start flowing again, and I stand up, extricating myself from his touch even as I brutally wipe away the tears.
“We talked about this,” I whisper, my back still to him. “We had a plan. A path.” I draw a breath and wipe my running nose. Then I turn to face him, expecting to see an accusation in his eyes. Instead, all I see is love.
I press my lips together and try to fight back another wave of tears. “We agreed we weren’t ready,” I say. “Neither one of us. And we talked about how it was important to me to get my business more stable. Hire some employees so the company can grow even if I take time off. Time,” I stress. “More time to . . .”
I straighten my shoulders and meet his eyes. “I’m not strong enough, and we both know it.”
“You are,” he says simply.
“The hell I am.” I yank my skirt up to reveal the scars that mar my hips and thighs. The concrete evidence of my weakness. Of everything in me that’s broken and fragile.
“Dammit, Nikki, don’t point to your past just because you’re afraid of your future.”
“But I am afraid.” I take a step closer, a rising anger giving me strength. “That’s part of why we were going to wait, remember? Or were all those conversations bullshit? Have you been coddling me? Worse, have you been lying to me? Pretending you were okay with waiting when you’ve been wanting to build our family all along?”
“Nikki, no—”
“I’ve seen you with Ronnie and Jeffery. I know how much you adore them.”
He runs his fingers through his hair, looking as miserable as I feel. “I do. And I’ll adore our children. But I never lied to you. I swear to you, baby, I was one hundred percent with you on our plan. But life never turns out the way you expect. You and I know that better than anyone.”
I stand rigid, so overwhelmed by emotion I fear I’m going to implode.
“Sometimes it’s a crisis when a plan goes wrong. But sometimes it’s wonderful.” Slowly—with the same care he’d use when approaching a wild animal—he moves to me and places his hand on my belly. “This,” he says earnestly, “is wonderful.”
Instead, I’m numb.
Instead, I’m terrified.
“Nikki?”
“It’s okay.” Hot tears pool in my eyes. “Really, I’m—”
That’s as much as I get out before the sob escapes and fat tears trail down my cheeks. I’m not even tethered to the earth right now. I’m just a wash of jumbled emotions, twisting so fast I can’t even process them. Shock. Joy. Fear. Excitement. Surprise. Terror. Happiness. All battering against me, leaving me overwhelmed and numb and not at all certain that this can really be happening.
“Sweetheart. Oh, Nikki, sweetheart.” Damien is on his feet in an instant, and he pulls me close and strokes my hair. “Hey, hey, talk to me.”
I want to—dear God, I want to—but my words are trapped behind a curtain of tears. I gasp, trying to relax as Damien rubs my back, making soothing noises. “I—I’m sorry,” I manage. “It’s just—I don’t know. Hormones, maybe. I’m a mess.”
“Sweetheart.” The word is cut short by his kiss. So soft and gentle, I think I might melt. And when he finally pulls back, his expression is so tender it almost brings me to tears all over again.
He takes a seat on the couch, then settles me on his lap. I snuggle close, craving his strength and the safety of his arms. I want him to hold me tight. I want him to strip me naked. To touch and to tease.
I want him to make love to me. More than anything, I want to bury the quagmire of thoughts and fears dancing in my head under a blanket of passion.
“I love you,” he says, and only when he uses the pad of his thumb to wipe away a tear do I realize that I’ve started crying again.
“I’m okay,” I say, sniffling. “Damn hormones.”
I’m still wearing the skirt I’d put on this morning, and he strokes his fingertips lightly over my bare leg, then brushes his lips over my shoulder. I shiver, craving a much more intimate touch and the oblivion that I know surrendering will bring.
Except I don’t really want oblivion. I don’t want to hide. Not from Damien—never from Damien.
And yet there is no denying that I’m doing exactly that. I’m closing off. Curling in on myself.
It’s not a celebration I want, but escape, and I hate that my traitorous emotions are destroying what should be a moment of romance and joy.
I swallow, then push off his lap. “Bathroom,” I say, then rush across the suite to the master bath.
I close the door, sit on the edge of the Olympic-size tub, and just breathe.
A moment later, Damien comes in. I lift my head, blinking as I look at him through tear-filled eyes. “I’m so sorry,” I whisper.
He doesn’t reply. Instead, he kneels on the thick pile of the mat laid out in front of the tub. He rests one hand on my thigh, then cups my cheek with the other. For a moment, we just look at each other, and I wish that we could stay like that forever. That we didn’t have to speak or think or talk.
“You’re overwhelmed,” he says. “Your emotions are all over the place. You’re happy. You’re scared. You’re confused.”
I nod, blinking furiously so that maybe I won’t start crying again.
“Mostly, you’re hurt. And maybe just a little bit angry at me. But, sweetheart, you’re carrying my child—our child—so how could I feel anything but joy?”
“No. No, it’s not that.” But even as I say the words, I know they are a lie. He’s right, goddammit. He’s so fucking right. I wanted him to be lost with me. To be confused and overwhelmed.
I wanted it, because I can’t stand knowing that even with Damien beside me, I’m completely alone.
“It’s exactly that,” he says firmly. “Do you think I don’t see it? Nikki, sweetheart, you’ve been a part of me from the first moment we met. How could I not see the gorge that’s opened between us?”
Those damn tears start flowing again, and I stand up, extricating myself from his touch even as I brutally wipe away the tears.
“We talked about this,” I whisper, my back still to him. “We had a plan. A path.” I draw a breath and wipe my running nose. Then I turn to face him, expecting to see an accusation in his eyes. Instead, all I see is love.
I press my lips together and try to fight back another wave of tears. “We agreed we weren’t ready,” I say. “Neither one of us. And we talked about how it was important to me to get my business more stable. Hire some employees so the company can grow even if I take time off. Time,” I stress. “More time to . . .”
I straighten my shoulders and meet his eyes. “I’m not strong enough, and we both know it.”
“You are,” he says simply.
“The hell I am.” I yank my skirt up to reveal the scars that mar my hips and thighs. The concrete evidence of my weakness. Of everything in me that’s broken and fragile.
“Dammit, Nikki, don’t point to your past just because you’re afraid of your future.”
“But I am afraid.” I take a step closer, a rising anger giving me strength. “That’s part of why we were going to wait, remember? Or were all those conversations bullshit? Have you been coddling me? Worse, have you been lying to me? Pretending you were okay with waiting when you’ve been wanting to build our family all along?”
“Nikki, no—”
“I’ve seen you with Ronnie and Jeffery. I know how much you adore them.”
He runs his fingers through his hair, looking as miserable as I feel. “I do. And I’ll adore our children. But I never lied to you. I swear to you, baby, I was one hundred percent with you on our plan. But life never turns out the way you expect. You and I know that better than anyone.”
I stand rigid, so overwhelmed by emotion I fear I’m going to implode.
“Sometimes it’s a crisis when a plan goes wrong. But sometimes it’s wonderful.” Slowly—with the same care he’d use when approaching a wild animal—he moves to me and places his hand on my belly. “This,” he says earnestly, “is wonderful.”
