Page 63 of Give Me Forever Love

“Whatever it is you need to tell me, you can do it right here. Face to face.”

“Why do you always think it’s your way or no way?”

“I don’t think that.”

“Clearly,” I say.

“Just spit it out already.”

“Fine. I missed my birth control shot. I got it today, though, and I can’t have unprotected sex for the next seven days.”

His face pales, and his mouth opens slightly. His eyes search mine for the part I didn’t emphasize.I missed my shot.But it’s so very obvious that’s the one thing he is focused on.

“So you missed it?”

This time he does let me loose, though.

“Thank you,” I say, pulling my shirt and bra down. He watches me, like I’m something to be studied. “Bryce, stop staring at me. Yes, I missed my shot, but it’s fine. I’m not pregnant.”

He looks out. “Okay, good.”

“Good?” I ask.

“Yeah, good.” He walks to the door and leaves me standing on the balcony.

What the hell just happened?

I follow after him. “Hey,” I say as the door shuts behind me. “What was that?”

“What?” he asks, grabbing a glass from the cabinet and his trusty bottle of bourbon.

“You said good. So, you’re glad I’m not pregnant?”

“Aren’t you?” he asks. “Want a drink?”

“Yes, and yes.”

“So, why are we having this conversation?” He slides my glass over. I grab it and take a sip. It burns like fire, but it’s needed after this stressful day of hiding a huge secret from Claire and worrying relentlessly about going to the doctor. It’s a huge dose of water to the blazing flames that is my life.

“I don’t know,” I say in thought. I look back at him. “Do you ever want kids?”

“With you?”

I look around. “Well, I don’t see anyone else in this room, and I’m pretty sure I’m the only one you’re dating?”

He exhales and shakes his head. Grabbing his hat from the counter, he lazily places it on his head. “It’s been a long fucking day. Of course, I want to have kids with you and, of course, only you. Sorry for the confusion,” he says, downing his drink.

“Why has it been a long day for you?” I take another sip of mine as he pours himself a second round.

“Jace,” he says. “We got into it.”

“Oh,” I reply. “About?”

“Harlow, Red, the fact that he still blames me for being a teenager. The sky’s blue and he says it’s orange. You fucking name it.”

I smirk. “So y’all talked about everything that went down at Red finally?”

“Yeah,” he says. “We cleared the air on that subject and then moved on to resentment and blame.”

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