Page 137 of Breeding Her: The Red Flag Edition
She was confused.
This was a good sign.
?? ?? ??
With only weeks left, time was running out. I booked private birthing classes. I took her swimming. Hell, I even endured mutinous glances when I picked her up from lunch with Evelyn and Allison—though our daughter effectively blocked their vile breast-smushing ways. I missed those breasts more than what was healthy.
Lucia still didn’t drop her guard around me, but sometimes I caught her sneaking curious glances.
Then the day came when she took my hand and placed it on her swollen belly. My heart missed a beat when I felt our daughter move. I looked at Lucia—half in wonder, half in disbelief.
Then she did it again, as if to make sure I’d noticed her presence.
To my horror, my eyes began to sting. I was about to pull away when Lucia placed both her hands over mine, holding me there.
I brought my other hand down, cradling the curve of her belly, and held our baby between us.
“That’s how I felt the first time she moved,” she whispered.
I don’t know how long we stayed like that, but neither of us seemed willing to break the fragile truce.
“Laurent,” she said at last, releasing my hand. Her voice wavered. “You’ll have learned that I was in foster care until I was an adult. Did it ever occur to you how a thin, blonde girl might be treated in the system?”
The thoughts that came to mind were ones I didn’t want to face. Even as I looked into her blue eyes, the image she painted made my stomach twist.
“I couldn’t always hide,” she said softly, patting my hand as though I were the one who needed reassuring.
“Lucia,” I began—but my voice cracked. I drew in a shaky breath. “I’m sorry… isn’t enough.”
I couldn’t imagine anyone hurting her. Not physically. Not emotionally.
Not my Lucia—so full of life, so full of love.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered, resting my cheek against her belly. I couldn’t bring myself to look at her. “I’m so sorry.”
Shame and guilt crawled through me, hollowing me from within.
She didn’t say anything, just placed her hand on my head—hesitant at first—then stroked my hair back and let her palm rest against my cheek.
I vowed then that I’d be worthy of her trust. I drew her hand to my lips and pressed a kiss into her palm.
Chapter 28
Lucia
Was it weird that I missed him being a dickhead? Probably.
But seeing him nice all the time was… strange. It seemed to make him happy, so I let him be. As long as he didn’t think he could spoil our daughter rotten—that had consequences. Look at him: a reformed dickhead.
I chortled to myself.
“What?” he asked, glancing over.
“Nothing. Just a passing thought.”
He narrowed his eyes at me for a moment before going back to his daddy-daughter book.
I felt a tightness in my belly and almost hissed. Once the pressure eased, I reached for my phone.
