Page 142 of Jordan

I throw the blankets off me and storm in after him.

“Enzo!” He doesn’t answer me, so I slam the shower door open. He doesn’t even flinch. “Enzo, answer me!”

“What, Jordan?” he says, like he’s tired of me doing this. Like all I am is an annoyance. Well, I’m tired of him doing this!

My mouth snaps open. I hate how gorgeous he looks, all naked and tan and muscled and dripping with water. Jesus, this man is too beautiful for words.

“We need to talk about this,” I ground out, ignoring his sexy naked body.

He scoffs, shaking his head and turning back to the water.

“Why don’t you want to know? What is wrong with you! You’re the one who said you wanted this!”

“I do want it,” he barks, whirling toward me. Water drips down his face, landing on his chest, and down his body. I try to ignore it, but it’s so damn hard. I force my eyes back up to his. “Don’t you get that? That’s why I’m so pissed, Jordan. I want this, and I know there’s a chance it isn’t mine,” he growls.

Oh, so you are mad about that? Good. Me too!

“How do you think I feel? Gross, Enzo, that’s how. Wanna switch places?” I scream.

He rears his head back like I’ve slapped him. “Why in the world would you feel gross?”

“Because I’m pregnant and I don’t know who the father is!” I shout at the top of my lungs, wishing it made me feel better, but it doesn’t. Expelling the energy mixed with the heat only makes me want to throw up. The tears come, and I can’t stop them. They burn my eyes, blinding me. The sobs leave me so harshly I can’t catch my breath.

Warm, wet arms wrap around me, drops of water dripping onto my head, down my cheeks, my shoulders, everywhere.

“You’re not gross, angel. Nothing about you is gross, especially not this.”

“Yes, I am,” I cry. “How can I be pregnant and not know who its father is? This is terrible!”

He hugs me tighter. “Shh, angel. Please, stop crying. I don’t want you to be upset about this. We can figure it out.”

“That’s not the p-point.”

“I know,” he whispers. “Trust me; I know.”

He holds me for so long we both start to dry. And when he lets me go, it’s only to shut the water off and grab a towel. Then he’s carrying me into the bedroom, undressing me, and getting us both into bed. He lays behind me, his large arms wrapped around me, his legs tangled with mine as he kisses my head over and over again. His large hand is splayed on my stomach in the most protective but sweet way, and I know whatever the answer is about this baby, about who it belongs to, it won’t matter. It will be loved and cared for and spoiled rotten. But that isn’t the point either.

The point is Enzo is my husband. We’re trying to have a normal marriage, but how do we do that if I’m carrying the baby of our lover? My husband’s lover? I don’t even know what to call him because nothing is official. We still haven’t made any official changes to the contract. Does Rafael know about this?

“How did I get into this mess?” I whisper through sniffles.

“This isn’t a mess, angel. Please don’t think that,” Enzo answers gently. “I promise you this will work. We will make this work however we need to. What are you really scared of, Jordan? Tell me the truth. Why are you so upset about this?”

I don’t have to think about it to answer. I’ve been thinking about it for days.

“I’m upset because you are my husband, and Rafael isn’t. What if it’s his? I want it to be yours. We are supposed to be having a family. Trying to make things normal. How could we be so stupid?”

“Though I’ll admit it was careless to not use a condom with Rafael, I don’t regret this.” He takes a breath and lets it out shakily. “Jordan, if this is Rafael’s baby, will you not want it?”

I lift my head to face him, shocked by his words. “How could you say something like that? Of course I’ll still want it.”

“Then why does it matter?”

“Because it matters to you!” A heavy sob leaves me, and I bury my face in his chest.

He lifts my head and presses his lips to mine as he shifts his large body over mine. Feeling his weight on me, covering all of me, always makes me feel so safe and protected.

“You have no idea how happy I am that you’re pregnant. No fucking idea.” He kisses my cheek. “And if this baby isn’t mine by blood, it will be mine by everything else. This is our baby. And if it is Rafael’s, then it’s his baby too. Family is everything to me. It’s how I was raised, and I was raised to know family doesn’t always mean blood. This baby, who’s ever it is, it’s mine and yours and Rafael’s, because even though we haven’t spoken about it, I’m pretty sure he’s going to be a part of us too.”