Page 33

Chapter thirty-three

Patrick

She’s perched at the table, one leg tucked under her, absentmindedly dipping toast into her soup. The butter melts in lazy swirls, pooling at the edges, and she watches like the whole world has shrunk down to that bowl.

“You’re staring,” she mutters without looking up.

I shrug, leaning back in my chair. “Can’t help it. You’re beautiful.”

She huffs out a small laugh.

I love her like this.

Messy and real. Not dressed up. Not trying. Just here—eating in my kitchen. Our kitchen. Hair damp from the shower she just took, skin pink from the heat. Drowned in one of my sweaters, sleeves past her hands. Legs bare. Feet lost in my socks.

“Hey,” I say. “I was thinking, maybe later, we could put a movie on or something? Whatever you want.”

She hums. “Even if I pick something depressing?”

I grin. “Even then.”

She looks back down, still wearing that little smile—the one that nestles deep into my heart and refuses to leave. She takes another bite, chewing slow, thoughtful.

I track as her other hand drifts down to her belly. She rubs it slowly, fingers tracing soft little circles over the sweater. Like she’s already used to the weight of it. Like it’s become second nature in just a few hours.

“When the snowstorm dies down,” she says softly, “we’re gonna have to go to the pharmacy. I need to pick up some prenatal vitamins, and you know… whatever else I need to stay healthy.”

A slow smile tugs at my lips. “We don’t need to go out.”

She glances up, brow raised in confusion. “What?”

“You’ve been taking them,” I say casually.

“What do you mean?”

I push off the chair and cross the kitchen, reaching into the back of one of the cupboards. I pull out the bottle I’d tucked behind the cereal boxes, the one I picked up when we went to the store together.

“I’ve been giving you these,” I say, holding it up. “Slipped them into your tea most mornings. Dramamine too—to help with the nausea.”

She doesn’t say anything.

Just stares at me.

No reaction at all.

And all the air leaves my lungs.

Shit.

But after a beat, she lets out a soft, breathless laugh.

“Oh,” she’s shaking her head but there’s a smile on her lips. “That’s actually really smart.”

I blink. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” she says, laughing again. “I mean, who even thinks of that? Sneaking prenatals into someone’s tea? That’s like, borderline genius-level care.”

I rub the back of my neck, trying not to grin too hard. “It’s not that big a deal.”

“It is,” she says, those beautiful jade green eyes locked onto mine like I might disappear if she blinks. “You were lowkey saving my life without me even knowing. Who does that?”

I let out a soft laugh through my nose, ducking my head. “I just didn’t want you feeling worse, that’s all.”

She leans back in her chair, still smiling. “God, you’re kind of amazing.”

Heat creeps its way up my neck. “Alright, now you’re laying it on thick.”

“Deserved,” she says simply. “Thank you, Patrick.”

I glance at her, heart thudding a little harder than it should. “Yeah. Of course.”

My chest swells, warmth blooming through me like sunlight cracking through winter clouds. She’s smiling at me, really smiling. Like she sees me. Like she really understands why I did it all.

“You want some tea?” I ask her.

“Yes, please.”

The sound of water rushing into the kettle fills the space between us.

“You know I have to address the elephant in the room, right?” She says.

My pulse spikes and I look back over my shoulder. “What?”

“This,” she says, gesturing toward her belly. “The baby. I mean… from what you said when we were upstairs, I’m guessing you’re behind it. Right?”

I wince. “I… yeah. I was behind it.”

“What did you do?”

Well, there’s no point lying now.

“I switched your pill out.”

She doesn’t react. Doesn’t flinch or gasp or throw her soup at me. Her face stays neutral. And the silence that follows starts sucking all the air out of the room.

“Levana…” I try to smile, to soften the blow, but my face won’t cooperate. “I know it sounds bad, but—”

“When?”

I don’t even know if I can look at her right now. “Three months ago.”

There’s a pause before she speaks again. “Wait. What about the condoms?”

Shame blooms in my throat. “I pricked them,” I admit.

She lets out a dry laugh. “Right. Of course.”

She strokes her belly again, like she’s tracing the timeline on her skin.

“But I tested negative at the convention, right?”

I can’t tell her that pricking the condoms made absolutely no difference anyway. Can’t tell her about the Clomid or why it might have made her test negative. I doubt it’d make much of a difference in the grand scheme of things, learning about the vitamins, the Dramamine, the pill… but Mara did say that taking Clomid whilst pregnant can cause birth defects, and I really don’t think she should have to deal with that scare at all, especially after Violet.

I keep my face calm, nod once. “Yeah,” I say, steady as I can. “You did.”

“So what… maybe eight weeks?” She says, frowning.

“Maybe,” I echo.

“I dunno… I feel further along than that though.” She presses her hand firmer, fingertips moving higher, just under her ribs. “My belly felt like this with Violet around three months in.”

She lets out a quiet, disbelieving laugh, shaking her head.

I don’t say a word, just finish up making the tea, set her mug down in front of her, and slide into the seat across the table.

“You know,” she starts, eyes trained on the steam rising in front of her. “You didn’t have to do it, right?”

My stomach knots instantly. “Do what?”

“Get me pregnant. You should’ve known how scared I’d be. Especially after I told you about Violet. I mean…” She pauses, then chews the inside of her cheek. “I would’ve helped you with your family regardless. I love you, Patrick. So much. I’d have done it.”

The way she says it, so soft and loving, cuts deeper than anything she could’ve shouted.

“I’m sorry,” I murmur. “But now… now we get to have our own little family.”

She’s so good to me. Too good. Better than I deserve.

But there’s one question that’s been nipping at the back of my mind for hours now, ever since the words first left her mouth.

I glance at her, throat tight.

“Are you…” I hesitate. “Are you going to get an abortion, Levana?”

Her gaze drops to her lap, lashes low, shoulders drawing in just slightly.

I reach across the table and brush my thumb over her knuckles. “You know it’ll be okay this time, right? I’ll be so good to you, Levana. You won’t have to do a damn thing.”

She nods, slow and sure, eyes glistening. “I know you will, Patrick. I know.”

But then her gaze shifts, and something tugs at the corner of her mouth—bittersweet. “But, you know I will have to leave when the snow clears, right?”

No.

What?

“Why?”

“I’ll have to see a doctor,” she says gently. “I’ll need ultrasounds, checkups, blood tests and all that stuff. I need to know this baby won’t have the same fate as Violet. I can’t stay in hiding. Can’t do this without real help.”

“What if you run, Levana?” My voice breaks around the edges. “What if you go and I never see you again?”

“No,” she says, patting the chair beside her. “I won’t. Come here.”

I get up without thinking and sink into it, pulse pounding hard.

She takes my hand in both of hers, then presses it gently to her belly.

“You feel that?” she whispers. “That’s us. Me and you. Right there.”

Shit , it’s like everything I’ve ever wanted is right beneath my hand.

My throat squeezes. “You really want this?”

“I do,” she says without missing a beat. “Thank you for making me see that.”

“You’re welcome,” I say quietly, still trying to process the fact that this is happening. That she’s here with me. That she means it.

“Truly, Patrick. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

My face heats instantly, and I look down at where my hand is resting on her belly, like maybe I can hide there.

“Oh,” I murmur, fighting the stupid smile tugging at my mouth. “That’s… yeah. I mean. Same.”

This is so perfect. I really don’t want her to leave. She can’t leave.

What if she goes, and Elliot finds her? What if he sees her like this, soft and glowing, carrying my child, and he decides to just take her?

What if he pulls her away from me for good?

Then what? Then Alexander never gets better. Then I never get to raise this baby with Levana. Then I never get to wake up to her again. Then my family’s never fixed. Everything good disappears before it even begins…

Stop it. Stop it. Stop it.

I look to where her head’s now resting against my shoulder, and I chuck her chin up with my knuckle, before leaning down and pressing my lips to hers.

She kisses me back, deep and slow, lips parting as she slides her tongue against mine. Her fingers twist into my shirt, tugging me close against her, and I groan into her mouth.

My hand flexes against her stomach, and her legs shift, parting like she’s telling me exactly what she wants.

My fingers drag against warm skin, sliding underneath the waistband of her underwear and she gasps, just a little.

“Tell me you’re sure, baby,” I murmur as I kiss the corner of her mouth, her cheek, her jaw. “You’re not too tired, are you?”

“I want you,” she whispers, lashes fluttering as she meets my eyes. “I just… I need something that feels good right now.”

“Okay, baby,” I murmur. “I’ve got you.”

I don’t rush, just let my hand drift down further. I part her lips and shiver at how good it feels when her wetness coats my fingertips.

“Look at me,” I whisper.

She turns her face toward mine, eyes heavy-lidded and dark, lips parted. And when I press one finger to her clit, her brows pull together from pleasure.

I rub gentle, steady circles against her, watching every twitch of her face, every breath that catches in her throat. Then I slide lower, slipping two fingers inside her in one slow push.

The gasp that rips from her throat slithers its way right through my spine, and I groan low in my throat, dragging my fingers back out just as slowly.

I thrust in again, slow and deep. Then out. Over and over, building a steady rhythm that has her hips rolling in her chair, hands tightening on my thigh.

She whimpers, and her mouth opens like she wants to say something, but nothing comes out.

“That’s it,” I breathe. “Just feel it.”

Her body starts to quake around my fingers, even though I’m going achingly slow.

She grabs hold of my wrist, pushing as she try’s to guide me faster, harder.

“Dirty girl,” I murmur against her ear. I tut softly, resisting the pressure of her hand. “You want to come so bad you’d fuck yourself on my fingers?”

She lets out a whine, hips twitching as she tries to move against me, but I don’t give in.

“Not fair,” she breathes, pressing her palm against my cock through my sweats. “You’re making me crazy.”

Her hand’s move over me just as slow as I’m fucking into her and my control’s slipping. I can’t handle it. My fingers leave her pussy and I stand.

I grab the blanket draped over the back of the chair, fold it twice and toss it onto the table.

“Take off your underwear, and bend over that,” I say.

She pushes up from the chair, exposes herself, and leans forward, chest and belly cushioned perfectly by the folded blanket, and I watch the way her back arches, how her hips tilt just right.

She’s beautiful like this. So fucking beautiful.

“That’s it,” I murmur, stepping up behind her, hands gripping her waist. “Keeps your stomach safe. I won’t let anything happen to you.”

I lean over her, pressing a kiss between her shoulder blades, then another one, lower down, tracing the line of her spine. She shivers beneath me, breath catching as I kiss just above the curve of her ass.

“Spread your legs,” I whisper into her skin. “Show me how pretty you look from behind.”

She does, parting her thighs, letting me see everything. Her glistening pussy, her perfect ass, the way her body’s trembling with so much need.

“Fuck, baby,” I breathe. “You’ve got no idea what you do to me.”

I hook my fingers into the waistband of my sweats and shove them down just enough to free my cock. It springs out heavy, flushed, soaked at the head from how fucking worked up I am. I wrap my hand around the base, stroking slow as I stare down at her.

Fuck. I don’t need to wear a condom anymore.

Finally. I’ll actually get to feel her again. No barriers, nothing between us—just her pussy wrapped tight around me like it’s meant to be.

I line myself up, sliding the head of my cock through her wet lips, catching on her entrance, teasing just enough to hear her gasp.

“You ready?” I ask.

“Yes. Please,” she nods.

In one long, slow push, I bury every inch of myself inside her.

“Sweet Hell, Levana,” I groan, hands tightening on her hips as I hold still for a second, just feeling her. “Baby, you feel—fuck. You feel unreal.”

She clenches around me, pulsing, already so close, already greedy for more.

“Missed this pussy,” I mutter, grinding slow and deep. “Missed how wet you are, how hot, how perfect.”

“Please move, Patrick,” she begs.

I don’t make her ask again.

My thrusts are slow and deep, sliding out just far enough to feel her clench around the tip before I push back in, burying myself to the hilt.

My hands glide over her waist, smoothing along the soft curve of her sides, down to her hips. I keep her steady, keep the pressure right, careful not to push her down too hard, careful not to jostle her stomach.

She’s glowing. There’s a sheen of sweat on her back, catching in the low light, and I can’t tear my eyes away.

“ Fuck,” I groan. “I could come just from watching you take me like this.”

She cries out when I hit her g-spot, and I can tell she’s close, balancing right on the edge.

“Rub your clit for me, baby,” I pant.

She slides her hand beneath her, fingers working fast straight away.

I lean over her, pressing a soft kiss to her shoulder.

“This is love, Levana,” I whisper as I grind against her. “What I’m doing to you right now? It’s love.”

“I’m gonna come,” she whimpers, tightening around my cock.

My hand slides up the curve of her back, palm dragging over her damp skin until my fingers tangle in her hair, and I wrap it tight around my fist, pulling hard.

“Yeah, you are,” I growl. “You’re gonna come for me just like this. Bent over, dripping, with your head pulled back so I can hear every fucking sound you make.”

I thrust into her deeper, holding her in place with my grip in her hair, my other hand braced on her hip to keep her steady.

Her whole body locks up around me, thighs trembling, pussy pulsing around my cock as she moans my name like it’s the only word she knows.

“That’s it,” I groan. “That’s my good fucking girl.”

She whimpers, body jerking with each thrust, overstimulated and perfect, still clenching around me like she never wants me to leave.

And fuck —I can’t hold it anymore.

I let go of her hair, both hands gripping her hips as I chase my own release.

No condom.

I’m gonna come in her. Finally.

It hits me like a freight train. My whole body seizes as I empty inside her, cock throbbing, release hot and thick and endless. I groan her name against her shoulder, breath ragged, skin slick, heart fucking pounding.

I stay there, locked inside her, hands smoothing back over her body like I could settle her trembling just by holding her right.We were made for each other. She just needed reminding.

And now she knows it all—every single thing.

And still, she’s here.

Still loving me.

She chose me.

She chose us.

That’s love.

That’s proof.

She’s mine. She’s ours.