Page 50 of Pieces of Us

I’m shaking like a leaf, shocking even my nerves. I can hear the rattle of the table where I’m nervously pushing on it.

‘Oh, I don’t have to. We all know Lincoln can’t stay away from me. He fucked me so good, he even got me pregnant.’

Staggering murmurs whisper around me. I feel like I’m sucked into a vortex and there’s no escape.

‘Billie.’ A thunderous boom silences the room. Lincoln. His footsteps are heavy.

‘Lincoln.’ A deafening warning follows. Uncle Jacob.

My eyes haven’t moved from the faux marble table in front of me. My fingers are strained white from locking my grip on the edge, and out of the periphery of my eyes, I can see that Lincoln is standing a ruler away.

‘Why…why would you do this?’ The crack in his voice is heartache. I know the sound very well. After all, it’s the exact tone I’ve had for years. ‘How could you bring up the baby?’

‘Enough.’ Uncle Jacob is livid, but Lincoln ignores him. Did he know? Where’s the baby? What is going on? I feel like Alice in Wonderland, being tossed down the rabbit hole without a stitch of padding to protect my broken and fragile body.

‘I thought you would have told your precious Amity everything.’

Billie’s nonchalance sends Lincoln into a fit of rage.

‘It has nothing to do with her,’ he explodes, banging his hand down on the table, startling Ella and I at the same time. Somehow, it snaps me out of this fog, and I slide back as inconspicuously as possible to get away. The clattering of wood rattles on the floor as my chair tips over in my haste to get out of here.

I don’t attempt to look at the crowd that’s formed. I just hope Uncle Jacob or my publicist can keep this under wraps. This is the exact type of negative attention I’ve avoided my entire career.

‘Amity.’ Lincoln’s hand bolts out, wrapping around my upper arm, forcing me to stay in this hell. His touch usually makes me searingly hot, but I feel detached from my body as his fingers curl and mould to my skin.

I foolishly look around and see that everyone is holding their breath, waiting to see my next reaction. Uncle Jacob’s gaze is murderous.

‘Get your hand off her. Now,’ he grits.

‘No.’ His shout back at his father is loud enough that I feel it in my bones. ‘I need to explain.’ He composes himself and lowers his voice. The grasp he has on me isn’t threatening, but it is possessive.

‘I don’t think this is the right time or place,’ Ella whispers, but it’s still loud enough for everyone to hear. She anxiously looks at Uncle Jacob for what to do next. I don’t miss the fact that they have an entire conversation with a passing glance.

‘Go away. Everyone get out.’ Lincoln’s spit hits my skin. His gaze hasn’t wavered from me. I’ll gladly remove myself from here. I try to jerk away but I’m fastened on the spot, as if my feet are glued to the ground.

‘Look. I know you’re the boss’ son and all, and I could get fired, but you’re making it worse for Amity. She’s a public figure. Think with your brain, not your dick for once.’ Some people clap at Ella’s boldness while Uncle Jacob rolls his eyes. I haven’t so much as looked at Lincoln, but I can imagine his utter horror at being called out. Still, he doesn’t remove his hand.

‘Then we will have this conversation in private.’ I hear his teeth grind as he tries to ameliorate his anger.

He enunciates the word ‘private’ as if to say Ella will be excluded. ‘If you know what’s good for you, Billie, you will go home,’ he seethes, yanking me past his dad. The crowd disperses and I’m just a ghost of myself anyway, so I’m light on my feet as I follow him to wherever he’s leading me.

Once we’re back in his office, he lets go of me and slams the door. Pacing back and forth, I can feel the panic emanate off his body as he pulls at his hair.

I’m still dead inside, so I remain aloof, barely functioning.

He got her pregnant.

He’s having a baby with her.

He’s going to marry her and raise a family with her.

He’s going to have a little human that’s half him and half her, and it’s going to be gorgeous.

The flurry of emotions wracks my body as I sink to the floor, my back to the door. I’ve gone down like a sack of potatoes, but at least the floor is holding up my bag of bones.

‘Hart.’ He crouches down in front of me on his knees, his hands clasping mine. I see right through him. His glassy eyes shine like tourmaline, but I’m dead inside. I feel nothing.

Needle-like pain prickles my skin, but again, the pain is welcome compared to the emptiness inside.

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