Page 300 of Steamy Ever After

Peyton’s brow furrowed. “Does Brodie?”

“Not yet. He wanted to know if you were going to tell him.”

“He isn’t even here yet.”

“I don’t think he’s pressuring you. He said Brodie asks about you constantly,” Alex added.

“Why?”

“Do you want to have this conversation again?”

Peyton shook her head. “Nope.”

“Didn’t think so.” Alex kissed Peyton’s forehead. “I’m off to bring wine to the masses. I’ll be by tomorrow.”

“Hey, Alex?”

“Yeah?

“Can you bring clam chowder and garlic bread with you?”

“Sure you can wait that long?”

“No, but since I’m not supposed to leave the house, I doubt my parents or the boys will let me drive to Cambria.”

“I’ll see what I can do.”

Peyton picked her cell phone up off the nightstand and scrolled through the messages she’d received from Brodie. They all said close to the same thing.

He begged her to get in touch with him, begged her to allow him to explain why he’d left the way he had after they made love. Each one ended the same way. He told her that, whether she believed him or not, he loved her and he’d spend the rest of the life he’d been spared, proving it to her, whether or not she could ever love him in return.

He’d left two voicemails since she fell asleep last night. So she tapped the first one and brought the phone to her ear.

“Peyton, it’s Brodie.” His voice sounded stronger than it had in his first few messages. “I have something I need you to know, and since you won’t return my calls, this is the only way I know to tell you. It’s about the last night we were together. You see, that night?—”

Peyton couldn’t listen to another word. She deleted that message, the one that followed, and all those he’d left before it. She refused to listen to him say he regretted their night together, the one that gave her the precious gift growing inside her.

Peyton wrapped her arms around the place where her baby girl grew. “You will never know you weren’t wanted. You will never know one of your parents didn’t love you. Never.”

Her arms were still holding her stomach when the cramping pain woke her. She felt sticky wetness between her legs and stumbled to the bathroom in the hall. She screamed when she saw the amount of blood seeping through her pajama bottoms and fell to the bathroom floor.

“Peyton!” she heard her dad yell, his footsteps getting closer.

“Hurry, Dad!” she screamed. “I think I’m losing the baby.”

An hour later, the nurse ran the fetal monitor over her stomach and shook her head. “I’m not hearing a heartbeat, Peyton. I’m sorry. I’ll give you some privacy.”

Her mother, who knew this pain, held her as she sobbed.

She didn’t feel any differently now than she had when she heard Kade had been killed. Her baby was dead. It wasn’t a miscarriage; it was a death.

The nurse returned to the room to discuss whether Peyton wanted to go through the loss naturally or through medical dilation and curettage. Her mom explained the difference, telling Peyton that, with her first, she’d let things happen naturally. The pain was intense, and the risk of infection was high. The next two times, she’d opted for the medical procedure.

She told Peyton she wondered still if the loss had compromised her uterus, resulting in the subsequent losses. There was no medical evidence to prove her theory, but it didn’t change her mother’s belief that, had she done things differently, she may have been able to have another child.

Peyton still hadn’t made up her mind when the doctor came in.

“Peyton, I need to examine you, and then we can discuss your options.”

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