Page 98 of Nine Months to Love
He’s probably down in the basement right now, doing God knows what while I pace around his house like some kind of captive princess in a tower.
Except I’m not a princess. I’m just the idiot who fell for the villain’s act.
The baby shifts inside me. A tiny wiggle, barely noticeable, but enough to remind me why I can’t just walk away. Why I’m trapped here in more ways than one.
I press my hand to my stomach. “I’m sorry,” I whisper. “I’m so sorry I brought you into this mess.”
Because that’s what this is. A mess. Stefan’s mess. My mess. Our mess.
And I don’t know how to fix it.
I don’t even know if I want to anymore.
Marriage was never the goal. I’m not some starry-eyed romantic who needs a ring and a white dress to feel complete. But I did need honesty. Respect. Someone who saw me as more than a means to an end.
Stefan made it clear tonight exactly what he thinks of me and my family. We’re beneath him. Disappointing. A joke.
And maybe he’s right.
I sink down onto the garden bench, the cold stone seeping through my clothes. Above me, the stars are hidden behind clouds. Even they’ve abandoned me tonight.
“Dr. Aster, please return to the house,” the first guard requests again, his voice straining with the effort of remaining professional.
“I told you, I’m not going any?—”
“Olivia.”
I freeze. That voice comes from directly behind me. My whole body goes rigid, every muscle locking up like I’ve been caught doing something I shouldn’t. Which, I suppose, I have.
I twist around slowly. Stefan stands a few feet away, hands in his pockets, watching me with an expression I can’t read. The darkness makes shadows of his cheekbones, turns his eyes into black pools.
My cheeks burn hot despite the cool night air. “I was just... I needed some air.”
“At the gate?” His gaze flicks to the guards, then back to me. “Barefoot?”
I look down. My feet are dirty from the garden path, and blood trickles from a few small cuts where I stepped on something sharp. I hadn’t even noticed.
“I wasn’t thinking clearly.”
“No,” he agrees. “You weren’t.”
The guards have melted back to their posts, giving us the illusion of privacy while staying close enough to intervene if needed. As if I could hurt Stefan more than he’s already hurt me.
“I can’t stay locked up in that house,” I say. “I need?—”
“To wander Boston alone at two in the morning? While my mother is out there somewhere, knowing you’re pregnant with my child?”
“Don’t pretend this is about protecting me. Not after what you said.”
He sighs and rubs his face. “We need to go inside,” he says.
“No.”
“Olivia—”
“I said no.” I cross my arms over my chest, trying to look more defiant than I feel. “I’m not going anywhere with you until you tell me the truth.”
“The truth about what?”
