Page 59 of Deserter

“Hey, baby,” she began. “I had to help one of the club girls out—”

“Cut the shit. I know that Celia’s here. Going behind the club’s back now?” He crossed his arms over his chest.

She shook her head. “No, baby. I swear. I was trying to help her out—”

“You deal with her or I will,” I forced out before approaching the counter. “I need Celia Cross.”

The woman shook her head. “I’m afraid I can’t give that information—”

“Then get me Viktor or so help me god, I will tear this place apart!”

The good doctor chose that moment to appear. At the sound of my voice, he looked up from the chart in his hand. “Grey, I was just about to call you. Look, I know how it looks, and I did everything in my power, but ultimately it was her decision—”

The world seemed to slow down as I asked, “Where is she?”

“Room three. I—”

I turned to Comedian. “I want Betsy gone and I don’t want to fuckin’ see her at any club functions either. She even speaks Celia’s name and you’ll be knocked back down to fuckin’ prospect. Are we clear?”

He gripped her arm in his. “You got it, Pres. This will never fuckin’ happen again.”

I didn’t fucking care that she was Mikey’s mother. She deserved to be beaten to death for this. I shoved past Viktor, focused only on getting to Celia. The argument I’d crafted on the way over was suddenly invalid.

I was too late.

I pushed the door open, and she hurriedly fastened the buttons on her dress before turning around. “I’m sorry, Doctor—” Her mouth fell open when she saw it was me. “Grey?”

Her eyes were swollen, and a river of makeup streaked down past her cheeks. Any anger I held toward her vanished immediately. Our baby wasn’t the only part of me that had died today. Seeing her hurting was fucking gutting me.

Celia’s hands shook as she brought them up over her puffy face. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

I crossed the room and pulled her into my arms. “Don’t say that. I fuckin’ told you that this didn’t mean anything—” At my words, her chest heaved with a sob, but I kept going.

“Not one fuckin’ day has gone by that I haven’t thought of you. I don’t do that, Celia. Jesus, I’ve fucked women and forgotten they even existed immediately after. No one has ever fuckin’ stayed with me like you.”

Tears clung to her lashes, and she rested her chin on my chest, watching me with wide eyes. It was like a blow to the head. Baby or no baby, I would’ve been fucking crazy to let her walk away.

“What are you s-saying?” she asked, with a small hiccup.

I gripped her face in my hands, drying her tears with my thumbs. “I’m saying that I’m not a fuckin’ saint, Celia. And you’re so goddamned perfect that you deserve someone who is, but you’ve got me. I want you to be my Ol’ Lady. And someday, when you’re ready, I’ll give you another baby. I’ll fuckin’ give you as many babies as you want.”

She shook her head and made a noise in the back of her throat. “I can’t do it. Please don’t be mad, but I can’t do it, Jamie.”

There it was.

A heaviness settled into my chest. I hadn’t been rejected in a long time and even though I’d been expecting it, it still stung.

“I know you wanted me to, but I couldn’t. I’m sorry,” her voice broke off, and she tried to look away, but I tightened my hold on her.

“What are you saying, Celia?” I asked carefully.

“I’m saying I couldn’t go through with it, Jamie. I couldn’t—” She tugged on my arm, dragging my hand down to her belly.

“You’re still pregnant?” When she nodded, I crushed my lips against her forehead and muttered, “Thank Christ.”

Her body sagged against mine in relief. “You’re not mad at me?”

“Fuck no. I’m—” I tried to put my thoughts into words; to describe the foreign feeling in my veins. “I’m fuckin’ thrilled.”

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