Page 65 of Plus-Size Bratva Bride

In that moment, I was reliving the past events and I felt as though I was being kidnapped all over again. My hands trembled so hard and I heard Abe rush to reach for the cup as the pain in my chest grew worse. I struggled for air, gasping.

“Shh,” Abe said, his hands gently caressing my hair. “Shh. You’re safe, Pip.”

There were a million things I shouldn’t have done, but I turned to him wide-eyed, terrified, and begged him to not leave me alone tonight.

Abe’s expression softened. Quietly, without saying a word, he put down the cup and walked to the other side of the bed, getting in. He laid out an arm on the bedrest behind us, giving me an opening.

I scuttled over. I needed touch. I needed comfort. I needed sleep. And I hadn’t slept much without him. I nestled into his chest as the tears fell down my face.

"You're not alone, Pip. I'm right here," he murmured, his voice a soothing balm to my frayed nerves. “You just get some rest now. I’m not going anywhere.”

I clung to him as tears pricked my eyes, unable to contain the flood of emotions that threatened to overwhelm me. How good it felt to be in his arms again, how wrong it felt to enjoy this.I cried myself to sleep and he just held me, never asking for more than I could give.

***

The next morning, I woke to the sound of the door banging shut. I sat up with a gasp, thinking I was in danger. To my surprise, it was Abe with a sheepish look on his face, his arms heavy with a laden tray.

“Sorry,” he said softly. “I didn’t mean to kick it close that hard.”

He moved his forearms, showing his hands were busy.

I nodded and pulled the covers up tighter, realizing he’d brought me breakfast in bed.

“I thought you’d be hungry,” he said, and put the tray on the bed beside me.

“My god,” I said, looking at it. “You cooked for a dozen?”

There was coffee, croissants, a bowl of fruits, eggs of three different kinds, pancakes, toast, a smoothie bowl, hummus, crackers, cheese, honey, and was that… quiche and a sausage bun?

It was the strangest, most eclectic breakfast I’d ever seen. I couldn’t help the giggle from escaping my lips.

Immediately, my eyes reached for his, which looked surprised at my expression of joy. Suddenly, I felt guilty for putting him in this spot. For grasping for little signs of approval.

“Come,” I said, patting the empty space on the bed. “I couldn’t eat all this alone and after all the fighting you did yesterday, you must be famished too.”

Abe's lips twitched, and he settled on the bed beside me, creating a comfortable space between us. I poured two cups of coffee, passing him one with a smile. Then, I realized I shouldn’t drink the coffee. I was pregnant.

I was pregnant and he didn’t know. How long could I keep up this charade?

A strange silence fell over us for a while, yet none of us moved to touch the food.

At last, Abe’s large hand enveloped mine. "Pippa," he said softly, "you should move back in. Please, trust me."

The intimacy of the moment, his unexpected gentleness, made my resolve waver. I wanted to tell him everything, to share this burden. But fear held me back. What if he was only doing all this, offering me our old life back, because he felt guilty?

Guilty about what, Pippa?a small voice counter-argued in my head.

About how he couldn’t tell me what I needed to hear, about how he couldn’t give me what I wanted, about how I got kidnapped when he thought he had the problem solved?

But don’t you have anything to feel guilty about, Pippa?That voice came back, sharper than before.You’re carrying his child, and you’ve already decided on a future without him—without even giving him a chance to choose. You heard Emory and Adley, telling you he’s suffering, yet you’re still choosing to believe what you want, not what his own family has told you: that he cares for you. You saw it when he rescued you—the relief on his face, the joy at seeing you safe.

I groaned and put my head in my hands, utterly exhausted.

“Pippa?” Abe asked, worried as he leaned over and gently held my hand.

God. I was so done with this battle I had raging in my head. I was so done choosing for us. This was no way to live, second-guessing myself every step of the way. Perhaps I needed to let go of all expectations and lay my heart bare. Whatever might happen, would happen.

Fate, as they say, chooses its own path.

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