Page 134 of Devil's Tulip

I push the sarcastic thought out of my head. I’ve had a lot of time to reflect over the past few weeks, and I realize running away might not have been the most mature thing to do. But I needed the space and semblance of freedom.

Needed to be on my own for a while.

But dare I trust him again? What if he pulls the same crap later? What happens the next time he decides what’s best for me without my consent? He said he loves me, and I believed him. I still believe him. Because no matter how far and fast I run, his presence is always with me. Always following me.

Hell, you don’t chase someone for two months straight without being hopelessly in love, all while the weather’s been slowly turning to shit. He’s even left his work—both the mafia side and the legal one—unattended for weeks, just to track me down. Yeah, he loves me, alright.

The problem is his overbearing ways. Making decisions on my behalf.

Three weeks ago, I snuck into a hospital for a checkup and got blindsided with the news—my baby is actuallytwobabies. Twins. And no matter how much I tried to convince myself otherwise, I know I don’t want to give birth to them alone. I don’t want them to grow up without their dad either.

What should I do? Dare I give him another chance? Just one last chance?

Because despite it all, Idostill love him, damn it. I’ve never been able to shake him from my heart, even when I was furious as hell with him. He’s the love of my life.

Our relationship isn’t exactly perfect, but it’sours. If we’re both willing to put in the work, I know we can make it through. We can do anything.

I study the snowman again. Knowing my husband, there’s probably something hidden inside. A camera? Audio bug? I raise my hand in front of the teddy’s blank stare and crook my fingers in a deliberate ‘come-hither’ gesture.

“Alright, Michael. I’m ready to talk to you now. So… come out—or not, I guess.” Talking to a teddy feels ridiculous, and when a few minutes pass and nothing happens, doubt creeps in. Maybe I’m going crazy. Have I just been deluding myself all this while that he’s always with me?

Then my doorbell rings.

My lips curl as I drop the teddy on the table, then struggle to heave myself up from the couch. Stupid big belly. It takes a full minute of ungraceful maneuvering before I’m upright.

I brush a few stray hairs out of my face as I waddle towards the door, not hesitating before I pull it open.

And there he is. Michael Hart. My estranged husband. He’s cradling a vaguely familiar tip jar in his hand. I frown at it.

“Hi, love,” he murmurs, and Christ, his voice is like a balm soothing all my hurts. I didn’t realize just how much I missed him until he’s standing right there, staring at me with the softest expression I’ve ever seen on his face.

“Why are you stalking me?” That’s not what I mean to ask, but it’s what slips out.

“Because I love you, and I can’t bear the thought of you being out there somewhere and having no idea what’s happening with you, having no idea if you need me, need help, and being unable to provide it.”

The raw honesty in his voice catches me off guard. I didn’t expect him to just throw it all out there so openly. “You hurt me, Michael. You lied to me, tricked me.” My eyes sting as an overwhelming wave of love for him crashes into me, dragging all the hurt his betrayal gave me right along with it. “You not only broke my trust, you broke my heart.”

His brows draw together, his face scrunching up with his own hurt. “I know, love.I know. I realize I shouldn't have switched your pills—no matter how much I wanted to keep you with me. It was fucked up. I’m sorry.” He swallows hard. “You have no idea how sorry I am, and how much I wish I could redo the past. The past couple of weeks have been absolute hell without you.”

“You regret our baby?” I ask, just to be mean, and I ruthlessly shove down the smile that wants to work its way to my face when he struggles to reply.

“I–I regret the dishonest way the pregnancy happened. But not the pregnancy itself. I love you and the baby growing inside you.” He hesitates. “Can I come inside?”

“No.” I fold my arms across my chest as much as my stomach will allow. “I know you arranged this apartment for me, but that doesn’t mean you get to come inside.”

He grimaces. “How do you know that?”

“You think I don’t know you’ve been pulling strings for me since I got to Boston? Meeting Janet, the job, this house...”

He swallows, then pushes the tip jar towards me, and I reluctantly accept it. “I just wanted to make sure you and the baby were well taken care of, while giving you space to heal.” His voice drops. “I didn’t expect you’d actually call for me.”

I jiggle the jar in my hand, listening to the coins clinking inside. “What’s in that teddy bear? A camera?” He hesitates. “Tell me.”

“An audio bug… I just wanted to be able to hear if you needed help,” he rushes to add.

“You’re constantly outside my house, constantly following me—I’m sure you would’ve known if I needed help.” I tilt the jar, and something clicks in my brain. “Wait… this is the tip jar from that first night we met, isn’t it?”

He nods to confirm it. He kept it?

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