Page 172 of This Woman Forever

That may be, but definitely not fit for pregnant women. So why the fuck is my wife checking out the blackboard, because there’s no steak listed on there?

“I can’t decide,” Ava muses, deep in thought.

“Tell me what you’re thinking, and I’ll help you.” I’ll steer her toward steak. Problem solved.

“Mussels or the seafood platter.”

“Neither,” I say quickly. Impulsively. Here we go.

“Why?” Ava asks, a monster frown coming my way. Then... realization. “Oh, come on, Jesse.”

Absolutely not. “No way, lady,” I say, laughing. “Not a chance. There’s some sort of mercury in fish that can damage an unborn baby’s nervous system.” This is non-negotiable. She needs to read the fucking book. “Don’t even try to defy me on this one.”

“Are you going to let me eat anything?” she asks.

“Yes.” What does she think I am, the food police? “Chicken, steak. Both are high in protein, and that’s good for our babies.” I point to the steaks and the chicken, not that she notices. She’s too busy sulking into her water. Neither has she noticed the fact that her parents are staring at us with mouths hanging open.

Bollocks.

Now, if she’d have just ordered steak...

“Do it in style, Ava.” I take a deep breath and release it, waiting for the fireworks, because by the look on Elizabeth’s face, there are definitely going to be some explosions. This is not how I wanted this to go.

“You’re pregnant?” she breathes, eyes jumping between us. Ava’s accusing glare is pointed my way, like this is somehow my fault. But rather than glare back, I look at the menu on the table in front of me, silent.

“Ava?” Joseph says.

“Surprise,” she murmurs.

“But you’ve been married for five minutes.” Elizabeth voice gets higher with every word she speaks, and I reach for my forehead, trying to rub the looming stressed headache away. “Five minutes!”

Slight exaggeration. But of course she’d be dramatic—this is Ava’s mother. What did I expect?

“It was a shotgun wedding, wasn’t it?” she blurts, attention all on me. “You married her because you had to.”

I cough over nothing, locking down every muscle before I shoot up and take the table with me. What a fucking insult after what I went through with my ex-wife—not that she or Ava know. That was shotgun. That was toxic. A fucking nightmare.

“Thanks,” Ava huffs sardonically, obviously as insulted as I am. Good. Then she won’t mind if I have a little trample.

“Elizabeth,” I say calmly, sensing Ava preparing to hold me back. “You know better than that.”

She laughs. Oh, she’s pushing me. Thank God Joseph steps in before I’m forced to sew my dear mother-in-law’s mouth shut. “So you didn’t know at the wedding?” he asks, forcing Elizabeth to back down, though her eyes are waiting keenly for an answer.

“No,” Ava blurts.

I stare at her accusingly. She knew. I suspected. What the fuck does it matter now? And why the hell am I sitting here like an errant child being forced to explain myself? This is ridiculous; my patience is fading by the second. I reach for my forehead and rub again, as Ava gives me an apologetic, sheepish smile. Steak. It was a simple choice. Why the fuck did I bring her here?

“I see,” Joseph says. What does he see? Nothing, because they’re both blind to the endless triggers being thrown my way.

Don’t explode.

Elizabeth exhales as dramatically as I would expect. “I can’t believe it. A pregnant bride suggests only one thing.”

“Then don’t bloody tell anyone,” Ava hisses angrily, getting herself worked up. No. I’m not having this. Pregnant women shouldn’t get stressed. I grab her hand and start rubbing some calmness into her. Easier said than done when I’m fucking reeling myself.

“Elizabeth,” I say more softly than she deserves. “I’m not an eighteen-year-old lad being forced to do the right thing after a quick fuck about with a girl.” Been there, done that, and I’ve paid dearly for it. I feel Ava squeeze my hand, her worried eyes on me. God, if she knew. “I’m thirty-eight years old. Ava is my wife, and I am not having her worked up or upset, so you can accept it and give us your blessing, or you can carry on like this and I’ll take my girl home now.”

Elizabeth’s looks like I’ve just slapped her. God, strike me down, I wish I fucking could, if only to knock the prissiness out of her.

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