Page 189 of This Woman Forever

“I should fucking starve you and reward you with food when you do what you’re fucking told,” I mumble, turning her toward the restaurant nearby. “I’ll feed you here.”

“Looks lovely,” she says as I guide her with my hands on her shoulders.

“I love you,” I whisper in her ear, feeling her body tense and her face push to mine.

“I know.”

“Table for two, please,” I say to the host. “Outside if you have it.”

“Certainly, sir.” He plucks two menus from the stand and shows us the way. “Drinks?”

“Water, thank you.” I help Ava into her seat, pushing her close to the table. My smile is huge. Her chair will get farther away each week. “The tapas are sublime,” I say, handing her a menu.

“You pick,” she says, not bothering to look at the options. “I’m sure you’ll make a suitable choice.” Is she being sarcastic?

“Thank you,” I say, unsure.

“You’re welcome.” Definitely sarcastic. She pours water and drinks a whole glass.

“Thirsty?” I ask, eyes wide as she glugs down another. “Be careful, you might drown the babies.”

She snorts, spraying some water, and I smile as she wipes herself up. “Will you stop with that?”

“What?” I ask, injured. “I’m just showing some fatherly concern.” The atmosphere suddenly goes from playful to tense, and I watch, confused, as Ava studies me, thinking. What?

“You don’t think I can look after our babies,” she says, her voice small. “Do you?”

What? Where’s that come from? “Yes, I do.” Although, admittedly, I’m concerned that she’s relying on me to share all the dos and don’ts of pregnancy. Which, annoyingly, is the catalyst for many of our current disagreements. If she would only read the book. I know she wants this, has come to terms with it, is happy about it, but my life would be a lot less stressful if I didn’t have to worry about what she’s eating and whether it could be harmful to the babies. Am I being over the top? I don’t think I am. Only a father who’s lost a child might understand.

Which is why Ava never will.

“What the hell do you think I’m going to do?” she asks, her tone somewhere between scathing and wounded. More the former. I glance at her in question. Wait. What does she think I think she’s going to do? I’m talking about food choices. Being careful. Taking it easy. Putting all the necessary things in place to make this risk-free and ensure both Ava’s and the babies health and safety. What the hell does she think I?—

Oh no.

“Don’t,” she whispers, her eyes flooding with tears. Shit, and now I’ve made her cry.

I move across to the seat next to her, pulling her in for a hug. “I’m sorry,” I say, my voice soft and quiet. “Don’t get upset, please.”

“I’m okay.” She snivels, wiping her nose. “I said, I’m fine.” She breaks free, her expression fierce as she swipes up her water. She’s angry. And I know she’s not angry with me. She’s mad with herself, reflecting on her fleeting, desperate, actions.

I’ve got over it, got past it. I realize what she was doing and why she did it. She needs to forgive herself. “Ava,” I say gently. “Look at me.” Her annoyed glower remains in place, her eyes on the back of the restaurant rather than me. For Christ’s sake, it’s our last night together here. This is not how I planned for it to be. Fuck, I need to ease up on the baby talk. “Three.” So we’ll go for some Jesse talk. I don’t appreciate the roll of her eyes, nor the fact she’s still refusing to look at me. Fine. She doesn’t think I’ll act on zero? She really has forgotten who I am. “Two,” I go on, and she sighs, looking at her water as she sets it down, firm in her stubborn stance. “One.” Another sigh. Fuck this. “Zero, baby.” I pull her off the chair and tackle her to the floor with gentle ease, pinning her there, hearing a chorus of collective gasps from diners around us. Ava’s big brown eyes are as wide as I’ve ever seen them as she stares up at my serious face. She can’t believe me? Well, here she is on the floor, and here I am pinning her there. In a crowded restaurant. Wherever, whenever.

“Jesse,” she breathes, motionless, looking positively shell-shocked. “Let me up.”

“I did warn you, baby.” My smile breaks. “Wherever, whenever.” I guarantee my wife will do what I ask in future.

She starts wriggling when I make no attempt to release her. “Yes, okay. You’ve made your point.”

“I don’t think I have.” I dip, my face close to hers. Her cheeks are a glorious shade of embarrassed. “I love you.”

“I know, let me up.”

“No.”

“Please,” she whispers, her gaze pleading.

“Tell me you love me,” I demand.

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