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COHEN

I t worked. Much quicker than I thought it would. Emily was pregnant. With my kid growing inside her. Cells multiplying and dividing at a rate that was mesmerizing under a microscope. My DNA mixing with hers, combining brilliance and beauty. I was a combination of both and my girl was the prettiest thing I’d ever seen outside the bathroom mirror. The perfect incubator for our child.

And right now, I was on cloud fucking nine.

I thought I’d feel a certain type of way. Maybe less enthused? One of those getting what you want isn’t always what it’s cracked up to be situations. I should have known better. That wasn’t me. I always knew what I wanted. Did whatever had to be done to get it and thoroughly enjoyed myself in the process. And that’s what fucking my kid into Emily had been. Weeks of pure fucking enjoyment.

I considered typing out a reply. But I wanted to do more than tell her. I needed to show her how good this was for us. How good we were together if she just gave in and stopped fighting me at every fucking turn.

Emily was it for me. I knew it even if she didn’t. This kid gave me more of a reason to rush things. To force her hand to take mine. She couldn’t do it alone. And we both knew that. She needed me, and I needed to see her. Tell her she had to marry me now before I missed my chance. Or she did something stupid. Like take a quick trip to the clinic.

Fuck if I’d let her kill my kid.

So I jumped out of bed, slid on a pair of gray sweats. A white beater and my leather jacket. Grabbed my helmet and rushed out to my bike. Flinging a leg over the black-and-yellow seat and hopping on. Barely checking that the road was clear before I pulled onto the street and merged with the light traffic.

I considered calling her at a stop sign, telling her I was on my way. But I needed to choose my words carefully. Keep my cards close to my chest without her suspecting this was exactly what I wanted. Emily was defiant and easily startled. Like a bird with an injured wing. Except with a much stronger bite.

I was on autopilot, weaving between cars quicker than I knew was good for me, with only one thing on my mind. Her.

Thirty minutes into the hour commute between my apartment and her dorms, I was pulling up to a stoplight. Propping my bike up with one leg on the ground and the other supported by my foot peg. I reached into my pocket and quickly withdrew my phone to check the time.

Ten past two. I had to be scrubbed up and in the OR with Rath in less than four hours but that didn’t matter right now…

Or ever really. Seeing as the next thing I knew, my helmet was flying off my head. My bike was propelled forward and my face was scraping against hot asphalt. Apparently the asshole behind me hadn’t seen my bike or, if he had, was just too drunk to care.

Lucky for me, adrenaline kicked in quick and I was able to roll across the highway. Curl up into a ball and hold my face on until paramedics arrived. The pain was indescribable, agonizing, and yet the only thing running through my mind was the fear I wouldn’t get to Emily in time. That she’d run off with my kid. Or shack up with the first fucker to pay her the slightest attention.

I lost more than my right eye that night. I lost my career, the man I could have been, and not long after all that, my ability to trust. And it was all because of her .

That was the night Emily Shaw stole everything from me.