Page 62 of Mortify

I am.

Full body tremors like I'm freezing.

"He knows," I whisper. "He knows about the baby."

"And he thinks it's his." Regnor's eyes are intense on mine. "Let him. Doesn't matter what he thinks. Matters what everyone just saw—me claiming you and our baby in public. That story's gonna spread. By tomorrow, everyone will know you're with me."

"He'll try to prove it's his. Demand tests or?—"

"Can't demand shit if he can't find you." His thumb traces my cheekbone. "You're moving in with me at my room in the club. Tonight. No arguments."

"Regnor—"

"No arguments," he repeats. "This escalated faster than I expected. Need you where I can protect you properly."

A hysterical laugh bubbles up. "We came for whipped cream."

"Fuck the whipped cream." But his lips twitch. "Though we should probably grab it or Fern will kill us."

"She would," I agree, and somehow we're both almost smiling in the middle of this disaster.

He keeps me tucked against his side as we find the dairy section.

I grab whipped cream and the ginger ale he mentioned while he scans the store like he's expecting Dylan to jump out from behind the yogurt.

"Ma'am?"

We turn to find a security guard approaching, looking uncertain.

"That man who left," he says. "The angry one. He was bothering you?"

"My ex," I explain. "He's not handling the breakup well."

The guard nods knowingly. "You want me to call the police? File a report?"

"No," Regnor answers for me. "We've got it handled. But we appreciate you checking."

The guard looks skeptical but nods. "If he comes back while you're here?—"

"He won't," Regnor says with such certainty the guard just nods again and walks away.

We pay quickly, the cashier avoiding eye contact.

Great. I'm officially the woman whose baby daddy drama played out by the Cheerios.

"Hey." Regnor stops me before we reach the car. "Look at me."

I do, reluctantly.

"You did good in there. Stood up to him. Told him no."

"I was terrified," I admit.

"But you still did it." He cups my face again. "That took courage. I'm proud of you."

The words hit someplace deep.

When's the last time someone was proud of me for standing up for myself?

---