Total pages in book: 235
Estimated words: 227851 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1139(@200wpm)___ 911(@250wpm)___ 760(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 227851 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1139(@200wpm)___ 911(@250wpm)___ 760(@300wpm)
“Have it your way,” she says, cocky. That’s confusing. Have what my way? I sincerely hate the look on her face. Enough to want to slap it off, and I’m quite certain Ava feels the same.
Coral produces a small scrap of paper. “What the fuck is that?” I ask, nervous but way angrier.
“Take a look for yourself.”
I whip it from her fingers on a snarl, at the same time keeping Ava back when I feel her pressing into the boundary line that is my arm. The moment I look at the paper, my stomach drops. Oh, fucking hell, no.
“What is it?” Ava asks as I stare, my eyes glazed and burning.
“That is a scan picture of his baby,” Coral declares proudly, and suddenly Ava’s not pushing into my arm anymore.
“Fucking hell,” I hiss, catching her as she wobbles, seeing every bit of color drain from her face. Her dark eyes are wide, her lips parted. “Shit, Ava.” I fucking knew this would happen. She mustn’t get stressed! I pick her up and take her to the couch, sitting her down, looking up over her head when Cathy appears at the kitchen doorway. I hold up a hand, signaling we’re good. “Breathe, baby,” I order softly, pushing her head down between her legs. My head’s about to spin off my neck. “Just breathe.” How the fucking hell did this happen? I’ve always been so careful. Always. I hiss, stroking Ava’s back, as I try to recall the times I ended up in bed with Coral. Mostly drunk. Can I be sure there were no accidents? A split condom, maybe one slipping off. Or maybe she took advantage of my inebriated state? It wouldn’t be the first time. But . . . it’s been months since I’ve been there. My eyes narrow, turning Coral’s way. Why the fuck does she look so damn pleased with herself? Because she’s about to fuck your marriage and life up. “What the fuck are you playing at, you stupid fucking woman,” I growl. “I’ve not slept with you for months.”
“Four months, and I’m four months gone.” Her smile. She’s happy. “Do the math.”
“You can’t be,” I hiss. She can’t be! “Fuck.” My head falls into my hands, and I silently will myself to wake up from this nightmare. I have not one fucking clue what to say, what to do. Proof. I want proof. I stare at the scan picture on the floor, getting hotter, sweatier. I have the fucking proof. Shit.
Ava’s hand appears in my downcast vision, picking up the picture. “Ava, what are you doing?”
“Yes, what are you doing?” Coral asks, coming forward. Like what? What is she planning to do? I hold a halting hand up, daring her to take one more step. My eyes drop to her stomach. Oh God, it’s Lauren all over again. How didn’t I see this coming? Once bitten, twice shy. But she’s got me.
Wait, no. She hasn’t got me. Does she think this changes things, that I’ll leave my wife? Or is she banking on my wife leaving me? My heart turns in my chest, forcing my fist there to press into my flesh and ease the pain. This is my penance for trapping Ava. But, again, Coral doesn’t get me. The baby, though? Will Ava accept it?
“I’m just trying to figure out,” Ava says, studying the image. “Whether you’re four or five weeks pregnant. I’m guessing just four.”
Weeks? Wait, Ava’s not seriously insinuating I slept with Coral four or five weeks ago? We were planning our wedding!
“I’m four months,” Coral says. “Not weeks.”
“No, you’re not,” Ava says, so calmly. I’m not sure I like this. “When was the last time you slept with her?” she asks, and I become all kinds of uncomfortable.
“Four, five months,” I say. Maybe it was three. I don’t know, but it definitely wasn’t four to five weeks ago. “Ava, I can’t think that far back. I didn’t exist before you.” Jesus, please tell me she doesn’t believe I betrayed her again. “I always used a condom, you know that.”
“I know,” she says, smiling a little. I don’t deserve her trust, not really. “Was she one of the . . .” She inhales, looking for some bravery that I wish she didn’t need. “Did you—”
“No,” I say, resting a hand on her shoulder, squeezing some reassurance into her before rubbing at her nape. “Look at me.” I need her to see the sincerity in my eyes. I’m no saint, I know that. I don’t deserve this woman’s faith or trust, but I have not slept with Coral since I’ve been with Ava, and that is a fact. “No,” I reiterate, hating the relief I see fill her. If this baby is mine, it happened pre-Ava, and that’s my only saving grace. I just hope she can accept that. And the child. But never Coral. She’s a deceptive, immoral witch. But, again, that’s not the baby’s fault. Just like it wasn’t Rosie’s fault that her mother trapped me.