Page 9 of Enemies, Lovers & A Valentine's Baby

“You started working at that firm eight months ago, and two months later you’re already screwing your co-worker? What kind of trash woman are you?” I yell, brows furrowed deeply.

I truly don’t understand it. We were doing well. At least as far as I knew. How could she do this to me? To us? Why?

She continues to sniffle, hiding her face in her hands.

“Answer my question, goddamn it!” I yell, slamming a fist down hard on the dining table.

“He—he, uh—He’s my boss,” she stutters, shaky voice cracking on the last word.

“He started coming on to me the moment I got the job. I said no at first. I wasn’t going to do that to you. But then he—he—” she breaks out into a sob again.

“He started to give me things. He started to buy me really nice things and take me to expensive places for shopping, dinners. All those nights I told you I had to work late, the weekends we had company activities that required me to be away, I—I was with him,” she confesses.

“I mean, you weren’t doing so well then, you know. Your job was a mess, you were barely getting by. I just—I was tempted by everything he offered me, and I couldn’t resist it. I’m sorry,” she sobs.

Her body drops limply to the floor by the door as sobs rack her body.

My heart clenches painfully in my chest. She cheated on me with her boss because he’s rich and I’m not?

What a gold-digging whore.

My body sags limply against the chair.

Defeated.

Ashamed.

Emasculated.

She fucked another man because he has more than I do. She’s been cheating on me for months, while I worked my ass off toensure that I can give her and our unborn baby the best life possible?

My heart starts racing again, even before I ask the question that’s been haunting me since seeing them together.

Somehow, I already know what the answer will be.

“The b—baby. Is it mine?”

The tense silence that hovers around the room is thick enough to cut with a knife. The air feels impure with her so close to me, yet I force myself to stay in her presence just a little longer.

I need to know.

I need to hear her say it.

But she doesn’t.

The seconds tick past painfully slow, yet she doesn’t say a word. Instead, she just sits there on the floor, sobbing like it isn’t her choices that led us here.

“Answer me, Lydia. You owe me this much.”

My voice is nothing but a whisper.

There’s no strength left in me. I’m drained in every way possible.

“Please,” I whisper again, my voice trembling slightly. “Is it mine?” I ask, sitting up straighter now.

She looks up at me, brown eyes wide and sorrowful.

I can hear the rhythmic thumping of my heart as she opens her mouth.

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