Page 96 of Lose to Win: Lost Trilogy: Part 3
I watch Emily as she sits quietly next to Becca, who is telling Arlene something. It must be funny because Arlene is laughing.
“They look like they’re gonna pop these kids out at about the same time,” Dylan comments when he sees where I’m looking.
“Yeah,” I grin, but don’t take my eyes off my wife. My smile fades a little when I wonder if maybe she wanted a wedding, too. Big, small, whatever, but something. Instead, I just dragged her ass to Vegas and gave her no choice but to say yes. I didn’t even get her a ring. I was going to, but then she gave me the news of the baby, and, well, I got distracted.
I walk away from Dylan with no warning, much in the same way that he’s always done to me. When I get to where the women are sitting, my eyes lock with Emily’s. She looks sad. Fuck. I messed all this up for sure.
I put my hand out for her to take, and she rushes to do so. I turn around and walk with her toward the back of the house until we are inside.
“You are beautiful,” I murmur into her hair when she looks down. “This dress looks amazing on you, and I love seeing your belly like this.”
I start running my hand over her pregnant belly, grinning when I feel the baby kicking against my fingers.
“It’s like he’s always running somewhere,” I chuckle.
We did get confirmation of the baby being a boy. We also did a DNA test, only because Emily couldn’t sleep at night at the thought that Steve had lied to her. It didn’t matter to me, I swore to her that it didn’t, but I couldn’t handle her tears any longer, so I agreed to it. And yeah, he’s definitely mine.
“Yeah,” Emily agrees to my assessment of the baby being a runner. “He’s been moving a lot lately. And my back hurts all the time.”
Her voice is shaking when she speaks, and she is refusing to meet my eyes when I lift her head with a finger under her chin. I bend down and place a soft kiss against her full lips that I can’t ever get enough of.
“I’m so sorry,” I whisper when she’s not responding the way I was hoping. “I didn’t mean to take all this away from you when we got married. I just wanted to marry you. I didn’t care how.”
My statement seems to shock her to her core.
“What are you talking about?”
“A wedding,” I try to explain.
“What wedding?”
“Ours.” I am getting frustrated with her now.
“I don’t care about having a wedding of any kind,” she puffs out in frustration. “I mean, maybe I did when I was younger. But all I care about now is to be in love with the person I am married to.”
“And are you?” The question slips, and she is giving me dirty looks now.
“Puck, I really don’t feel well enough to have a stupid conversation right now,” she warns.
I open my arms wide in frustration. “What’s the problem then?”
“How do you know there’s a problem?”
I look at her like she’s growing a second head.
“Uh, that would be because you’ve been sitting there like a pregnant bump on a log, barely smiling, and looking like you’re not enjoying yourself at all.”
In an abrupt move, she throws her sandals off her feet, then walks barefooted toward the couch in her father’s living room.
“Dad is selling the house,” she announces like it’s news. This has been decided a few weeks ago.
“So?”
“I just worry,” she shrugs but doesn’t elaborate.
“Em, please talk to me, babe,” I beg. “If I have to ask what you’re talking about after every time you say something, we’ll be here all night.”
“I worry that they won’t want me at their new house,” she yells at me as if I’m dense. “I get that they want their own space, but where am I going to go visit?”
