Page 132 of Between Hate and Desire

“That’s exactly what I want you to do. Look, it tears me to fucking shreds to know I hurt you and that you wanted more out of the relationship than I could offer. I told you time and time again that I couldn’t give you anything more. Now you’re pulling this and?—”

“It’s because ofher, isn’t it?” She searches my face, and I swallow down the food that feels like it’s lodged in my throat.

I can’t even find it inside me to argue, so I don’t say anything at all.

“You can deny it all you want, but I could tell by the way you two looked at each other when I showed up. The way you’ve always looked at her. I knew the moment I met her that you had a thing for her. It’s more than obvious.” Jenna lets out an annoyed huff, wiping away her tears before they fall.

My blood pumps faster, my pulse pounding in my neck. For years, I believed everyone was fooled by the way I treated Lennon, but apparently, I’ve been transparent, even to Jenna. “What do you want me to say? What do you want from me?”

Jenna glares, and if looks could kill, I’d be dead. She’s hurting, that much I can see, but I can’t be the man to fix it for her. She digs in her purse and pulls out a twenty-dollar bill and tosses it on the table. “We’re done here.”

“Wait,” I say, and she stops for a second. “You have to tell Craig. You need to tell him today so he can be a part of the pregnancy,” I nearly beg, knowing how much she’ll need someone during this time. But it can’t be me.

“You’ll be hearing from my lawyer, Hunter,” she hisses my name like it’s poison.

“Looking forward to it.” Picking up my burger, I take a bite and continue eating without a worry in the world.

She groans, then storms out of the restaurant. Though I know this isn’t over, I let out a relieved breath and finish my fries.

“You need a to-go box for that?” The waiter looks at the plate of food she barely touched, then hands me the bill.

“Nah, man. She ain’t coming back,” I tell him, and he shrugs as if he can’t be bothered by it either. I pay, then head back to work.

When I arrive back to my office, I go straight to my computer to answer emails. Being gone even a few days has put me behind, but I don’t complain. I reply to people for hours, then update my status reports and send it out to the other project managers who helped cover my job.

When I finally break away from the screen, I realize it’s time to go. As I’m packing my laptop in my bag, my boss stops and compliments me on the project. Considering he rarely gives positive feedback, it makes me walk out to my truck with a smile on my face. Even though lunch was a disaster, it’s been a good day otherwise. I’m convinced it started on the right foot because I woke up with Lennon in my arms this morning.

Yesterday, I told myself that what we shared in Utah had to stay there. We accomplished what we wanted and convinced her parents, which meant my job of playing husband was done except for the Instagram photos. When we walked into the apartment, I’d accepted it was over until she texted me to lie with her. Thinking about how she instantly falls asleep when I’m close has me grinning like an idiot. I wanted it as much as she did. My bed is too damn sad and empty. The thought of her consumes me the rest of the drive home.

I walk into the apartment that’s squeaky fucking clean and find Lennon in the kitchen making dinner. Grabbing a beer, I notice her trying to avoid eye contact. She mentions dinner will be ready, and I excuse myself to compose my thoughts. When I walk away, I glance over my shoulder and catch her staring, then wink. Blush meets her cheeks, and I hold back a chuckle. Lennon is as transparent as me, apparently.

I change into some workout shorts and a T-shirt, then walk back into the kitchen where Lennon is scooping chicken fettuccine Alfredo onto some plates. I grab forks and napkins, and she follows me to the kitchen table. As we eat, I can tell something’s on her mind.

“What is it?” I ask, shooting her a smirk.

She shakes her head and continues to focus on her pasta.

“Come on. I know something’s up. I know you, Lennon. Plus, I haven’t seen the apartment this clean in years,” I tell her and her face softens.

“Fine,” she huffs. “I’ve been thinking about the Jenna situation all day. Let me first say that I trust you. I do. I trust you as much as I trust my sisters, so it’s not that. But I feel guilty about you helping me with the baby when Jenna is all alone, doing it on her own, and the father of her baby is alive and well. As much as I don’t like her, it’s not right.” Her eyes don’t meet mine. She goes back to her pasta, studying it like it’s a Picasso painting.

“I get it. I hear you. But it’s one hundred percent not mine,” I say, recalling the conversation I had earlier with Jenna.

“How do you know? I need to know how you know.” Lennon finally looks at me, and all I want to do is swim in the depths of her baby blues.

I suck in a deep breath and release it. Regardless of how hard it is to admit, I know I have to tell her. The silence draws on, but she gives me the time I need to find my words.

“Okay.” I nod. This is embarrassing as hell, which is why I didn’t tell Jenna. She’s the last person who needs to know my personal business. “When I was in college, I was short on money and decided to donate my…sperm. After some initial testing, they noticed my counts were low,” I explain, watching her.

“You’re sterile?” she asks, searching my face.

“No, but my sperm count is abnormal. Hold on,” I say, getting up and leaving her shocked at the table.

I search through the top drawer of my desk and find the envelope. After I find a pinch of courage, I walk back and hand it to her.

She pulls the papers out and reads them.

“I got a second opinion shortly after and got the same results. It’s been my reality ever since I found out,” I tell her, resting both hands on my hips. “Not exactly a conversation starter, though.”

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