Page 134 of Sweet Venom

I make him some toast with butter and jam, and he pauses before he takes it, almost as if he’s never had someone make him some toast before.

I’m so used to making it for Dahlia, I didn’t even think twice.

“Are you close to him? Julian, I mean.”

“What do you think?”

“I don’t know, which is why I’m asking.”

“He’s just a controlling pain in the ass.”

“Do you…have other siblings?”

“No. My mother had too many miscarriages while I was growing up.”

The words land like thunder on the table, and I gulp, afraid to breathe. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s not your fault. Why are you sorry?”

“I’m just… I know that must’ve been painful.”

“Yeah. She was in pain for a long time, but she still did everything and went to all the doctors so she could conceive.” He pauses, swallowing a mouthful of toast. “Thirteen.”

“What?”

“The number of miscarriages she had.”

“Oh. Were the pregnancies too close together?”

“Her entire life after me, really. She had some form of an autoimmune system deficiency. Had many failed IVF attempts and refused the notion of a surrogate. Apparently, she lost quite a few before I came along, too. After me, she had one stillborn. Three were lost in the second trimester. The rest were miscarried early on.”

“Why did she keep doing that?”

“She wanted a girl so badly.” His lips twitch a little. “Pres looked girly when he was growing up. Probably why she loved having him around. But…”

“But?” I lean forward in my chair, looking at his hair that’s falling over his forehead, hiding the scar I know is there. The one his mom gave him.

“But it was hard on her body and mental state. Especially the stillborn and the second trimester losses. It didn’t help that she’d try to conceive as soon as she could, despite the doctors’ warnings that it was turning into an obsession.”

“Your father didn’t say anything?”

He lifts a shoulder. “I don’t know. Julian said he tried to stop her, but that motherfucker is the source of all evil. If he hadn’t married her, she would’ve had a perfectly normal life.”

“But you don’t know that.” I speak softly. “She could’ve had the same problem with another man.”

“Maybe, but he made everything worse.” He pauses, runs a hand over his face, then looks away. “She had uterine cancer last year and needed a hysterectomy.”

“Oh God.”

“She…had a mental breakdown.” Jude’s voice becomes deeper as he stares at the toast in his hand. “I’ve never seen her so broken and frantic as when it was time for the surgery. She begged me to stop them, but I couldn’t, because she would have died. Thatfuckingfather of mine madethem sedate and operate on her. When she woke up, she kept touching her belly and crying. She didn’t die of cancer, but three months later, she was stabbed to death in broad daylight.”

“I’m sorry.” I wipe the moisture that’s gathered in my eyes. “I’msosorry.”

“Your apologies won’t bring her back, Violet.”

“I know. I’m just sorry because you had to go through that. It must’ve been so hard growing up dealing with the fallout of her miscarriages, then her cancer.”

He pauses, looking at me as if he’s never heard those words before.