hysterical laughter competing with outrage. Stuck?
“Who else besides your cousin’s husband knows I’m— That you and I—”
“Made a baby?” she provided tartly. She tried to remember that he wasn’t the most verbal person alive and this was all quite a shock for him, but honestly, why was it so hard for him to acknowledge his son? “Are you ashamed of Zephyr?” she guessed in a tone that thinned to outrage as the possibility sank in. It was the worst thing he could throw at her, striking directly into her Achilles heel. Into her soul.
“I’m shocked! You had to know I would be.” He’d changed into a basic white T-shirt that strained across his chest as he gestured toward the view of the sea. “I can’t have my family finding out through some cheap sensationalism on the internet. We’ve suffered enough secrets and lies as it is.” He pinched the bridge of his nose.
Unwillingly, she felt sorry for him, which was crazy. He didn’t deserve it, but, “I did try to call you when I first realized I was pregnant,” she reminded.
He sighed, brows coming together in a pensive frown. “I debated calling you back, I did, but Adara turned up pregnant and given her previous miscarriages Demitri and I had to take over her workload. Then our mother died. By the time the dust settled, there didn’t seem any point in contacting you.”
They’d both been going through a lot. She supposed she couldn’t fault him too much for not returning her calls under those circumstances.
“But I trusted you to take that pill, Jaya. What happened?”
The blame in his tone stabbed her, even though she’d tried to prepare herself for it every time she’d mentally walked through this conversation. Yes, she’d failed to protect both of them from the consequences of their night together and she was willing to own that, but his anger and disappointment filled her with umbrage. She didn’t want to feel defensive and solely responsible. He knew what could happen from unprotected sex. It didn’t matter that she had a better understanding of what had driven him that night. He had still chosen to sleep with her to satisfy his own selfish needs.
Just as, when it came down to it, she’d kept their baby for her own selfish reasons.
“The pill was expired,” she explained with as much dignity as she could scrape together. “I thought I’d be able to get a fresh one once I landed in France, but with the time change and Saranya being so ill, it was days before I came up for air. By then I’d missed the window. Then I thought I’d wait to see if I had anything to worry about.”
She flinched from the intensity of his judgmental stare, sinking bleakly back into that time of despair, feeling again the torn sensation of having said goodbye to her life in Bali, and Theo, then facing an even more brutal goodbye with her cousin.
Lifting her chin, she finished without apology, “When it turned out I was pregnant, I couldn’t take steps to end it. I just couldn’t, not with Saranya dying in front of me. I needed something to look forward to. The promise of life and love.”
Scanning the lounge to ensure the older kids were staying out of trouble, she tried to hide that she’d also needed her connection to Theo to continue. Her conscience had tortured her over not keeping her word, but she wasn’t sorry. Not one bit.
“I tried to tell you because you deserved to know.” She cleared her throat. “I didn’t, and don’t, expect anything from you. Not money. Not marriage. He was my decision. He’s my responsibility.”
There. That’s all she’d ever wanted to say, even though she had ached every day to share her pregnancy and baby with Theo. Zephyr was such a little miracle. She wanted Theo to love him as much as she did.
“Oh, sweetie, don’t eat that—” she blurted, realizing Androu had picked lint out of the carpet.
Rushing forward was a much-needed break from the weight of Theo’s gaze. She couldn’t face him
Victoria Christopher Murray