Page 164 of My Broken Bodyguard 3: Catch & Bianca

My parents would be arriving soon as well. As for my sister, she was abroad, studying at the University of Cambridge. I promised to FaceTime her once Bianca, and the baby were settled.

I wore green and black swim trunks so that I could join my wife in the pool and possibly help deliver our child.

Most men wouldn’t want anything to do with the delivery. However, I got my wife pregnant, so I wanted to be there for her every step of the way.

The week after we wiped out the Massas had been pure bliss. But maybe that was because I was skating around the truth—the truth I knew would break her heart.

I could still hear her voice the day she finally asked, “How did I get pregnant if I was taking my birth control pills?”

There was no way around it. I told her.

I watched the light in her eyes dim as realization set in. The way her expression shattered, how her body tensed like she’d been stabbed in the back.

It gutted me.

My selfish ways had gotten me into trouble again.

She yelled and cried. “How could you do this?”

Her voice rose, raw and sharp.“I don’t want anything to do with you. You psychopath!”

It still stung.

But not as much as watching her walk out the door.

She moved in with Tori and Ritchie.

While she was there, I’d get off work and creep into the guestroom late at night and sleep on the floor next to the bed.

A week later, I got a dry, emotionless voicemail saying she was going to visit her family—code, for she wasn’t ready to come home. We were apart for two days and I lost my shit. I flew to Chicago and checked into a hotel not far from where her parents lived.

I barely slept in the hotel room. I usually fell asleep in my SUV a few doors down from her parents’ house.

Mr. Landry kept me company on those long nights, sitting beside me in the front seat, watching basketball games on my laptop.

I respectfully told my father-in-law I was taking my wife home. He didn’t stand in my way.

I had plenty of time to reflect on what I did wrong. Instead, I thought about how soon I could get her pregnant again.

I knew that was fucked up.

One night, after watching another game, Mr. Landry led me inside the house. Bianca and her mother were curled up on the couch, laughing at some sitcom. The second Bianca saw me, her smile vanished.

“Hello, Mrs. Landry,” I greeted smoothly.

“Callum.” She smiled, but Bianca’s glare could have set me on fire.

“I need to speak to my wife,” I said.

Mrs. Landry touched my arm in silent understanding before disappearing down the hall with her husband.

Bianca’s arms crossed over her chest.

Defensive. Stubborn. Gorgeous.

“I’m not ready to come back,” she muttered.

I pulled out my phone and sent a quick text to her brother, Kam.

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