Page 80 of Baby I'm Yours

My jaw clenches. “I don’t want to fight. And…I don’t want you to die in a hole. I really don’t.”

“Youactedlike you wanted me to die in a hole,” she says, delivering another direct hit to my gut.

Because she’s right. I was cruel.

I was also hurt in a way I’d never been hurt by anyone before, because I loved her so fucking much, but still…

“I’m sorry,” I murmur. “I don’t want anything bad to happen to you. Ever. I’ve never wanted that, not even that morning.”

“Then what do you want?” she asks, her guard still all the way up.

You, I think.I want to pull you into my arms and hold you. I want to promise you that I’ll make up for letting you down. I want the last eight months to disappear, so I can be there for you every step of the way. I want…you.

Always you.

No one but you.

Aloud, I say, “I want to help. And to honor our contract. Just let me know what you need, and I’ll make it happen.”

“I told you, I’m fine. I don’t need?—”

“Stop.” The word comes out sharper than intended. I’m not mad at her, not at all. I’m mad at me. “I’m sorry,” I say, softening my tone. “I’m just… I’m not here to threaten you or hurt you, I promise. You don’t have to play tough. You’re on bed rest with twins. You’re bringing two babies home to a tiny apartment on the second floor with no elevator and?—”

“And I’ll be fine,” she cuts in. “This apartment isn’t tiny. It’s a perfectly lovely size, and plenty big enough for me and two little kiddos. Not all of us live in penthouses, you know. But we still have wonderful, worthy, fulfilling lives.”

“I understand that, but you won’t be able to carry both car seats up the stairs after childbirth,” I say. “Even if you only had one baby, you wouldn’t, let alone two. There’s a weight restriction on how much you can lift until you’re fully healed.”

She frowns. “How do you know that?”

“I had to defend my generous parental leave policy for fathers to the shareholders at my old company,” I say. “They didn’t think fathers needed a full week of paid leave or the option to take six weeks additional leave unpaid. I had to bring in experts to explain why mothers need their partners’ support after giving birth, especially if there are complications.”

She grunts, clearly unimpressed. “That would only be described as ‘generous’ in the U.S. Other countries have way better leave policies for fathers. And mothers.”

I tip my head in acknowledgement. “But I do businesshere. I was doing the best I could.”

“Did you know that almost everyone in the world is financially closer to being homeless than being a billionaire?” she asks. “Like, even a multi-multi-millionaire. Even if a personhas say,fifty milliondollars, they are still closer to being homeless than they are to being you.”

Brows lifting again, I ask, “And?”

“And, that’s gross. You are grossly rich.”

I sigh. “We’re back to this again?”

“We are. I never liked the billionaire thing. I told you that from the start.”

“Well, I currently give twenty percent of my income to charitable organizations,” I say. “I can up that to forty percent, if it would make me less offensive.”

“That would be better, but you’re still gross.” She sniffs. “And the amount of money you offered me in that contract is grossly small. The more I thought about it in the context of how much you have to give, the more I realized howlittleyou actually thought your baby was worth. How little you thoughtIwas worth.” She holds up a warning finger my way. “Before you start offering more, I already told you I don’t want your stupid money. That’s not what this is about. It’s about how precious andpricelessthese children are, and how much respect they deserve from everyone in their lives. They deserve to feel important and valuable.”

She folds her arms over her stomach, blinking faster as she fixes her gaze on the wall over my shoulder. “AndIdeserve to feel important and valuable. I want to raise my kids with someone who feels the same way. A person who wants to funnel the majority of his time and his love and yes, his money, into his family, becausethat’swhat matters most to him. And that’s not you. Clearly.”

She swipes at her cheeks as her shoulders begin to shake, the sight of her breaking down banishing my fear.

Fuck fear.

I have to do whatever it takes to prove to her that I feel the same way, before it’s too late.

“You aren’t just valuable and important,” I say, my voice thick with emotion. “You’re irreplaceable, Elaina. You’re fucking irreplaceable, and I’m so fucking sorry.”

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