Page 84 of Take My Hand

Her question comes out of nowhere and I pull back, looking down to meet her worried eyes. “What?”

“Did you believe him? When he called me a cheating whore?”

“What the hell? Why would I believe that?”

She looks out toward the pool and the rolling hills beyond.

“You do remember that it was me that he accused you of cheating on him with, right?”

She nods.

“So I think you have your answer there. I know when our relationship started. I was there,” I say, trying to infuse a little humor into the serious moment. The corner of her lip twitches, but it drops like a full smile is too much effort against her dark mood.

“I know, I know,” she says, like she’s trying to reassure herself and not me.

I unwrap one of my arms from her back and gently grab her chin. “Carter, look at me,” I whisper.

She does, albeit reluctantly.

“Am I looking at you any differently?” I ask her honestly and I still under her assessing gaze.

My mind has been a mess these past few days. Mostly with worry, yes. But there was a part of me that needed to process what I heard. Not about the cheating part; I knew that was bullshit.

But hearing that she was pregnant, and not long before I met her, threw me for a loop.

While it’s a conversation that we do need to have, because whether we each want to have children is an important thing for us to discuss as a couple, deep in my gut, I know Carter’s decision wasn’t based on her not wanting to never have a child.

Instead, it made me rethink every single interaction I ever saw her have with Daniel. Three years together. A relationship for that long came with a lot of history. But this? This added a whole other layer to it.

I think back to the day that we saw Daniel crowding Carter against the barricades, yelling in her face. I think back to when I bought her a new camera and she was so hesitant to accept because she wasn’t used to gestures that didn’t come with strings attached. I think back to our conversation building her dresser and how she seemed upset about leaving her things behind at her apartment, she said it wasn’t worth the fight trying to get them back.

Now I see that there was likely a part of her that didn’t want the reminder of anything to do with her past relationship and all the memories it holds.

“No,” she says, eyes shining with unshed tears. “You’re still looking at me the same way.”

Because I am. What I learned doesn’t change the way I feel about her. The respect I have for her.

But she still seems on edge, like there’s a bit of doubt she can’t shake.

“What?”

“I can’t just believe that this changes nothing for you.”

My head shoots back. “Why?”

“Because it changed me.”

“Have I ever once given you the impression that I would judge you? Do you think so little of me?”

Our entire relationship, I’ve been conscious of her feelings and done my best to show her that she can count on me. That she can trust me. Because I know she lacked it before and with this new revelation, I’m sure it’s been even more of a struggle to believe that I have always had no other ulterior motives behind my words and actions.

But it’s not fair for her to jump to conclusions about me with no basis on just my actions, not his.

“I don’t fucking know!” She pulls out of my hold and throws her arms wide. “You see what it’s like out there for women who talk about it. Doesn’t matter what the reason is. Whether she was raped, her life was in danger, she wasn’t ready, whatever it may be. It doesn’t. Fucking. Matter. People jump on them regardless. Have you ever read through the comments under those posts? Have you watched the news?” Fury lights up her every word, eyes blazing. “I’m justified to be worried about what my boyfriend might think when he learns what I’ve done!”

“But you know me, Carter. I don’t give a shit about anyone else out there. This is between you and me right now and you should be giving me the benefit of the doubt and listening to what I’m telling you. How I’m looking at you. What I’m showing you. I’m not him!” My voice echoes throughout the room. But Carter doesn’t flinch. If anything, she relaxes slightly, relishing in the way I’m matching her anger and letting it fuel her own.

“I never said you were!”

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