“Chesney, a moment alone,” I mutter, my eyes still on Zoey.
Chesney doesn’t move initially. He wants some type of assurance from Zoey. Contrary to what she wants to believe, he does feel remorse for this shit. He has grown to like her. How could he not? I forced her upon him from the gate and all it takes is a few minutes in Zoey’s presence for you to be taken by her charm and brilliance.
When he sees she won’t so much as regard him, he quietly exits the room. I let out a long breath.
“Zo—”
“When were you going to tell me?” Her eyes sweep the table.
I open my mouth then close it when words don’t populate. Then I wet my lips. “I wanted to tell you for about four years now. It’s just never been the right t-time.” My emotions catch in my throat.
Her lids flutter. She’s fighting back a cry. “When I sat at this table, seven years ago, all I could chant while Chesney flaunted his arrogance in front of my parents was this baby was conceived in love. That was all I could do to keep my sanity. I was alone, disappointed, confused and scared,” she ends on a whisper. “Was he conceived by love, Stenton?” Now her eyes are on me. And there are the tears. “Was it just a baby you wanted…not me?”
Ni?a…
My chest is about to fucking explode.
“Zoey, I wanted every inch of you. I wanted each aspect of you, from your mind, your heart…your future. A baby was the means to an end in my selfish thinking. I was sick with not wanting to lose you. I didn’t think. I got caught up in some fantasy. It just felt like…” I purse my lips, upset with myself.
She angles her head and squints her eyes, mouth collapses. “How could you say that? How could you do something so grave under the guise of wanting me when you’ve been with everyone else but me? You impregnate me then leave me. You take my heart…and my body, then break up with me. It’s paradoxical.” Zoey’s eyes are pleading.
I stand, needing a breath and out of her proximity, fighting my need to comfort her. I amble over to the corner, shove my hands in my pockets and try to find the right words.
“You remember when Jordan was four months old and I came by to…see after you?” I don’t hear back from her. “You asked why we couldn’t be together. I told you then it was because you didn’t know what you were asking for. The truth of that matter was I was afraid to take on a commitment with you at that time because your ambition intimidated me. You knew exactly what you wanted to do and there was no doubt that you’d get there. You had a sharp mind and a dedicated family. I wanted all of that. I wanted you. But I didn’t want to put you on a different course.”
I turn to her and find her eyes on me.
“I couldn’t demand a permanent relationship. You kept saying marriage was on the back burner, that you had to live your life and find you before you could start thinking of committing to a man. You made it clear you wouldn’t be held back.” Her expression is impassive. I exhale. “Zoey, you were—and still are—so independent and courageous. All I could see was you moving on and finding a man with a less complicated life and career who was better suited. I didn’t want to take that risk.” My stomach toils and I swallow hard. I feel my palms misting. “I needed to make sure you didn’t get very far.”
“So, a baby…” she utters lowly.