"No, don't . . . I will tell you everything. I swear, Eva. But it's a . . . " He shook his head and blew out a breath. "It's a pretty crazy story, so please try to listen until the end. Okay?"
I folded my arms over my chest, and I'm sure he could tell just how upset I was. I'd pinched my mouth with displeasure and put up all kinds of walls to block him because I knew, I just knew, whatever he had to say was going to hurt. He had that panicked, apologetic look on his face as if he knew he'd fucked up big time. No bastard looked that way unless they knew they were about to majorly upset a woman's life.
When he just kept watching me, looking frightened, I rolled my eyes. "Okay." I waved my hand for him to start talking already.
"All right." He blew out a long breath and closed his eyes before saying, "Ten years ago, on November twentieth, Tristy tried to kill herself."
I shivered at the mention of my birthday, remembering how he had the date set as his cell phone's passcode, which only confused me more. Why the hell would a suicide attempt be such a noteworthy date? But I was a good girl and let him keep talking about how he visited the witch who'd upset Tristy, hoping to get revenge, and how he got stuck in some ankle trap she'd set up in her yard. He even hiked up his pant leg to show me the scars around the base of his foot. Then he started talking about glimpses, wedding dances, and immaculate backyards. I just stared at him, unable to—yeah, I was too dazed to say much of anything.
But in no way could I envision him as the freaky, weird kind of guy into witchcraft.
When he was done talking, he blew out another breath and said, "Well?"
I shook my head, stunned. "So, you had this glimpse thing when you were fourteen where saw me? You saw us get married and have three children together named Julian, Skylar, and Chloe?"
He nodded slowly. "Yeah. Well, basically. I mean, I thought they were my biological kids. They called me dad, and I . . . I felt like their father. I don't know how to describe it, exactly. It was just so real, like I was really living it, feeling it, tasting it. You smelled like lilacs, even then."
I lifted my hands to stop him because this was getting overwhelming. "Okay, just . . . slow down."
I think he was afraid to slow down, though, afraid I'd call him insane and leave his crazy ass. He kept talking. "Everything, I mean everything, has matched up so far. I was so pissed at Tristy for naming her kid Julian. But he's turning into my son, isn't he? And Skylar? How the hell could I predict you would name her that? Or that you'd be wearing Tinker Bell on your shirt the first night I met you? And that damn pink pig."
He motioned toward the stuffed animal I had sitting in the swing because we rarely used the swing anymore. "She was holding it in my vision, and then I saw it sitting in the hospital gift shop window the night she was born. That's not just a coincidence."
I covered my mouth with my hands as tears filled my eyes. "And you knew she'd have dark hair and a cowlick."
He nodded. "And in my vision, we dance to 'Baby Love' at our wedding reception, which just so happened to be the first song you played on the jukebox that night."
I couldn't listen to anymore. I popped to my feet and lit out of the living room as quick as I could.
Chapter 22
PICK
I was almost too scared to go check, but I walked down the hall toward our bedroom, anyway. I just knew she'd be in there, packing all her things, scooping up Skylar and preparing to leave me.
When I reached the doorway, though, all she was doing was standing at the crib and looking down at the babies sleeping together. Sensing me, she said, without turning around, "You just had to wait until I fell in love with him before you told me, didn't you?"
Julian. She wasn't going to leave then, but not because of her feelings for me. She was only staying for my son. Pain slashed through my stomach. I leaned my forearm against the doorjamb and then pressed my face into it.
"I understand why you're unsettled and shocked. The entire thing is fucking unbelievable. That's why I didn't know how to tell you. I knew you wouldn't believe me. You'd think I was insane, or delusional, or I don't know what."
She turned slowly. Tears had filled her eyes but they weren't falling. "Oh, I believe you."
I bit my knuckle, hating how far away from her I felt, how hard she was blocking me out. "Then why are you so mad?"
Her blue eyes flared with anger. Jabbing her finger toward the front of the apartment, she hissed so as not to wake the kids, "Because you just stood out there and told me you loved me, you asshole. But you don't love me. You love some woman you've made me up to be for the past ten years."
"Tink," I started, warning in my voice. I pushed away from the door and stepped toward her.