Allure

“Same as before. Stable but critical. They expect he’ll need surgery.”

 

He rubs his face. Lines of exhaustion already bracket his mouth and eyes, and we haven’t even booked a flight yet.

 

I approach him and put my hand on his chest. His heartbeat races against my palm. I can sense all the emotions boiling inside him—the fear of failure, the guilt that he has spent his life battling.

 

“Dean, please don’t fight me on this.” After all we’ve been through in recent months, I have a lot to prove to both him and myself. “If it were the other way around, would you let me go alone?”

 

He doesn’t respond, his mouth compressing. I slide my hand down to rub his flat belly.

 

“You need me,” I say. “Let me be there for you.”

 

“I don’t want you to be there!” He strides to the other side of the room.

 

“They can’t hurt us, Dean.”

 

“No, they can’t hurt us, but they can still hurt you.”

 

“Not if I don’t let them.”

 

“You know what it’s like, Liv,” he snaps. “Look, it’s my fault you’re pregnant, and if—”

 

“Your fault?” Shock floods me. “It’s your fault that I’m pregnant?”

 

Dean turns to stare at me, a flare of guilt crossing his features. “I didn’t mean—”

 

I hold up both hands to stop his denial. It’s too late.

 

This is it—the confirmation of a horrible fear I didn’t want to acknowledge.

 

“You think this is a mistake.” I can hardly get the words past my tight throat. “And you’re blaming yourself.”

 

“We didn’t plan it, Liv!” Dean paces to the closet and back. “I didn’t put a condom on, so yeah, it’s my fault. I never forget to wear a condom.”

 

I sink onto the edge of the bed. A fiery memory shoves at me. “You did once. That last time at your parents’ house.”

 

He stops for a second, struck by the same intense recollection. He bites out a curse. “We were lucky that time.”

 

“But not this time.”

 

“Liv, that’s not what I meant! The night you got pregnant… I wasn’t thinking straight, and I forgot to put on a damn condom. It was an accident, not a mistake.”

 

Mistake. Mistake.

 

The word ricochets around my head. I hear my mother’s voice, disembodied, weary from living. “You were a mistake, Liv. I never should have had you.”

 

Old emotions churn inside me, snarled and messy. I stare at my hands. I can hear Dean’s breathing from across the room. His frustration is a black haze.

 

“I’m… there shouldn’t be any blame.” I struggle to put my thoughts into order. “A pregnancy… I mean, we have this child, and you… you’re going into this with this idea that it wasn’t supposed to happen…”

 

“Liv, I’m trying to buy a house because we’re having a baby. I’m thinking about our finances, investment and legal strategies. I’ve even looked into college savings programs. I’m going into this with the idea that we have to plan for the future.”

 

“But how do you feel about all that, Dean? If you think you somehow failed—”

 

“Liv.” Dean crosses the room and kneels in front of me. He puts his hands over mine. “Liv, look at me.”

 

I look up through the veil of hair that has fallen across either side of my face. His eyes blaze into mine, determination steeling his features. He grips my shoulders.

 

“I’ve never…” His voice is rough. “I’ve never felt that anything involving you was a failure. Believe me.”

 

I’m supposed to fall into his arms and let him hold me. I’m supposed to press my head against his chest and listen to his deep-voiced reassurances, feel them soothe all the doubts blistering in my head. I’m supposed to say yes, yes, of course I believe you…

 

An ache fills my heart. He’ll reassure me, I’ll feel better, then he’ll go to California alone while I stay in our cozy apartment, sheltered from all the cold hostility and anger winding through the West family.

 

That’s the way it works for the strong, protective man and the good girl who doesn’t cause trouble for anyone.

 

I stare into my husband’s eyes. Such a beautiful brown. The color of chocolate, mahogany, cinnamon. I can see him waiting for my surrender.

 

“I can’t believe you,” I whisper.

 

“What?” A shutter crashes over his expression. He lets go of me.

 

“We’ve spent the past four months failing miserably.” I force the words out, broken but clear. “We let each other down. We made mistakes. We hurt each other.”

 

He shoves to his feet and stalks away. “That’s over. We’re done with that.”

 

“Are we? Then you need to stop thinking that every time something doesn’t go according to plan, it’s a mistake. You need to stop thinking you failed me.”

 

“You just fucking told me that I did fail you!” Dean retorts. “You told me years ago that you didn’t want children. Birth control was my responsibility. I was the one using condoms.”

 

“Dean, for the love of God, birth control was both of our responsibilities. And I was the one who wanted to at least talk about the idea of children. To maybe reconsider. Just because we never came to an agreement doesn’t mean we totally screwed up. An unplanned pregnancy doesn’t equal failure.”

 

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