Page 54 of Entrapped
His eyes darkened with an emotion I couldn’t quite place. “As in I get too old. I want to be able to enjoy my child.”
“You’ll be forty-eight in a few weeks. The baby would be born before you’re forty-nine,” I said, trying to keep my tone light, but the gravity of his words weighed on me.
Colson smiled—a small, almost wistful curve of his lips—as he moved his hand to rest gently on my belly. If there was a child there, it was no more than a tiny speck, a mere possibility.
“I could call a doctor to administer a pregnancy test,” he offered, his voice laced with concern and an eagerness that made my heart ache.
I cupped his face in my hands, feeling the roughness of his stubble beneath my palms. “Don’t do that. We can find out after the holiday is over. I don’t want to disturb anyone’s Christmas Eve.”
He laughed softly, a sound that held both amusement and affection. “I pay a lot to have them on call twenty-four hours.”
“That doesn’t mean you should take them away from their families,” I said, trying to inject some reason into the conversation.
“You’re a sweet woman,” he said, his eyes softening. “Which is why I married you.”
“Colson, I think it was more than that,” I replied, my voice tinged with a mix of affection and seriousness.
He bent down to kiss my cheek, the gesture tender and comforting, then stepped aside so I could rinse my mouth out with water. The moment felt strangely intimate, a quiet reprieve from the chaos of the evening.
As I splashed the cool water on my face, I couldn’t help but think about what he had said. The idea of a child, his legacy, our legacy—it was overwhelming. But the thought of sharing that with him, of creating something beautiful out of our complicated love, was strangely comforting.
When I turned back to him, he was watching me with a look of quiet contentment. “Whatever happens, we’ll face it together,” he said softly, as if reading my thoughts.
I nodded, feeling a strange mix of fear and hope settling in my chest. “Together,” I whispered, knowing that whatever the future held, we would face it as one.
Christmas passed without incident, much to my relief. I kept my mouth shut and did my best to enjoy the holiday, despite the persistent nausea that had me visiting the bathroom more times than I cared to count. The Ashworths had a tradition of shutting off all the lights in the house except the ones on the Christmas trees and sitting together in the living room, letting soft music fill the air. It was a cozy, almost magical atmosphere, one that I found myself sinking into as I leaned against Colson, sipping ginger ale while the others enjoyed hot toddies.
My mother had made the toddies, a Shaw family tradition that I usually looked forward to. They were warm, spiced, and just what one needed on a cold winter night. But with the possibility of pregnancy lingering in the back of my mind, I declined, sticking to my ginger ale and trying not to draw attention to myself. Colson’s arm around me was a comforting weight, grounding me amidst the swirling thoughts in my head.
Vaughn and Serena had disappeared at some point, and I didn’t need to guess where they’d gone. The way Serena clung to him made it clear she had no qualms about being whisked upstairs for a little private time. Vaughn’s expression had grown more sullen as the months crept toward spring, and while a part of me almost felt sorry for him, I reminded myself that he had choices—choices he seemed determined to ignore.
I excused myself to use the bathroom, silently cursing whatever was happening to my body. When I stepped out, I nearly jumped at the sight of Vaughn leaning against the wall, waiting for me with a smug expression.
“You’re pregnant,” he said, not bothering to frame it as a question.
“That’s none of your business,” I snapped, narrowing my eyes at him.
He crossed his arms, his smirk deepening. “It all makes sense. The lack of alcohol, the frequent trips to the bathroom... Unless you have a stomach virus, pregnancy is the only logical conclusion.”
“Vaughn, what happens in my marriage is none of your concern. If we decide to have children, that’s between Colson and me.”
His smirk didn’t waver. “Except Colson doesn’t want more children. It was one of his non-negotiables.”
My heart skipped a beat, and I felt my jaw drop. “How would you know that?”
“Because I saw the prenup agreement,” he said, his tone matter-of-fact. “I know he didn’t want more children. Does he know?”
I shoved him, desperate to get out of this conversation. “What we do in our marriage is none of your business, Vaughn. Maybe you should focus on your own relationship. Where’s Serena?”
His grin widened, the satisfaction in his eyes making my skin crawl. “Passed out in my bed,” he said, casually rubbing his manicured nails against his cashmere sweater. “I fucked her into oblivion.”
I wrinkled my nose in disgust. “You’re vile,” I spat, brushing past him, eager to be anywhere but near him.
“It could’ve been you,” he called after me, his voice taunting.
I didn’t turn back, refusing to give him the satisfaction of a response. But his words echoed in my mind, a dark cloud over the quiet joy I’d managed to hold onto.
Chapter 22
