Page 56 of Wreckage of Us
“I understand,” she cries into my chest, and I just hold her. Having her in my arms like this is what I’ve been craving for months, the best thing ever in spite of the sad subject of conversation.
“I heard him saying he’d like to visit,” Becca reminds me as she sniffles into my chest.
“Yeah, I’d like that,” I smile sadly, just staring at a spot on the wall.
“You need to quit smoking,” she throws from seemingly out of nowhere.
“I haven’t…” I try to lie.
“I know you sneak one here and there, Dylan,” she chastises me like I’m a little kid. She’s going to be such a great mom. I grin at the thought even though she can’t see me.
“I’ll try, babe,” I promise.
“No.” She pushes her head away from my chest, rearranging herself until she’s comfortable enough and can just stare at me without blinking. A little unnerving to be honest. “You need to actually do it. Not justtry,” she spits the word out like it’s poison.
“Bex,” I snicker.
“Do you want Ethan to grow up watching you smoke, then think it’s okay to do it, get sick and die?”
“What?” I’m sure my eyes are about to fall out of my head at her words.
“What about our baby?” she puts a hand on her belly that’s now covered with the sheet. “Do you want that to happen to our baby, too?”
I open my mouth to give her a smartass remark, but then stop. My eyes are glued to where her hand is, and now I need to see it.
“Move the sheet off,” I mumble while I slide down her body to get to the object of my fascination.
“What?” Becca seems surprised by my abrupt change in subject.
“I want to see the baby," I explain when I see that she’s not moving at all.
Without another word of protest, she does as I asked and moves the sheet off her. She’s always been beautiful, and I always loved her body. But now…
Now it is different.
Her bump is so small, one could think that maybe she had an extra large meal with one too many Cokes. It just looks bloated. But it had never been bloated before, and I am in awe with what’s happening right under my nose, literally and figuratively. She is growing a baby in there. Our baby.
“I can’t believe we made this,” I barely touch her skin with my fingertips when I whisper.
“I warned you that…” She sounds like she’s about to get wound up over it again.
“That’s not how I meant it, Bex,” I stop her. “If I was given the option to choose the mother of my children, it would always be you,” I confess.
“Dylan…” Her fingers delve into my hair when I touch my lips to her belly.
“Always you, Bex,” I repeat, willing her to believe me. “I love you.”
“Dylan, I…”
I am bracing myself to finally hear the words out of her mouth, the words I crave but which she’s refused to say since I made my grand comeback into her life.
The sharp sound of an alarm makes me jump out of bed in an instant.
“What is that?” Becca looks at me with fear in her eyes.
“Someone’s on the property,” I explain as I rush through the tedious process of putting some clothes on. In the end, I just pull my jeans over my legs and grab my phone, rushing downstairs, three steps at a time. “Get dressed,” I yell up to her. I can’t have her running around naked if we need to take cover.
By the time I hit the last step, I feel more in control, my instincts, honed from so many years in the club, kicking in.
