Page 85 of The Arrogant's Redemption

"My God! It’s too much, too soon. We shouldn’t have come to this apartment. It’s my fault."

"I don’t feel anything physically. I’m okay. It’s my mind that’s a mess."

"You should rest."

"No. I’ve put off this conversation for far too long. It’s time for LJ and me to finally set things straight. Could you guys give us some space? I don’t want to sound ungrateful, but I think we need to be alone."

"What about Sedric?" Badger asks.

"You saw LJ’s face. I don’t think he’s going to let us take him away right now. Go on. I’ll be fine."

"Alright, but keep your phone on. We’ll be downstairs."

Lazarus

I feel her enter the room, but I don’t turn around. Instead, I focus on him. My son. The child whose name I don’t even know.

While he plays with my chin and nose, babbling random sounds, I try to calm myself down.

I force myself to remember that Alexis just had surgery a month ago.

"I’m sorry," she says, and I finally turn to face her.

"I don’t believe a word you say," I repeat almost exactly what she said to me the day I promised to bring her back to life. "I don’t want to talk right now. Let me have a moment with my son. By my count, I have a year to catch up on—and that’s not even counting the pregnancy. What’s his name?"

"Sedric."

As soon as he hears his mother call his name, he beams, his face lighting up with pure love for her. He starts bouncing excitedly in my lap, stretching his little arms toward Alexis.

"You can’t hold him yet," I warn, and when I look at her, I see a tear slide down her cheek. "Let’s go to the bedroom. I’ll help you sit on the bed, and then I’ll lay him down next to you."

Her crying intensifies, but it’s silent.

"Alexis, maybe I should leave," I offer, because despite the anger and the pain clawing at me, I don’t want to push her into another hospitalization.

"No. Stay. It’s time we talked, LJ. It’s long past time."

Lazarus

CHAPTER FORTY-SIX

I sitdown in an armchair in the bedroom, watching the two of them together. I couldn’t say whether I watch them for minutes, hours, or days. I can’t look away.

I’m a Seymour down to the last strand of hair.

Proud, unyielding, selfish.

So my first instinct is to retaliate—hurt her the way she hurt me by keeping me from my son for an entire year.

I can’t help but wonder what would have happened if Alexis hadn’t needed a surgical procedure that only I could perform.

Would I have never met my boy?

Even considering that possibility feels like a knife spinning in my chest, jabbing endlessly at a wound that never had the chance to heal—the one caused by her absence.

"When you said you hated me, I never imagined it was that much," I say, finally breaking the silence, and both of them look at me—though my son’s eyes are drooping as if he’s sleepy.

"It’s time for him to sleep. Help me, and then we’ll talk."

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