Page 124 of Branded
Or at least, not only those reasons.
The biggest one…the one that my eyes dropped to, so obvious it was impossible to keep my gaze on her face, was leading her charge my way.
The soft rounded curve of her belly.
The babies inside.
Fuck.
That sliced fucking deep.
Because I hadn’t seen that with Monica. Because she’d lied about carrying my baby. Because…she’d never been pregnant at all. I hadn’t seen her belly grow, hadn’t felt our baby move, hadn’t held my son or daughter in my arms.
How in the fuck was I grieving for a baby that had never even existed?
It didn’t make any sense.
But I was.
And it was slicing me deep inside, fucking killing me that Pru and Marcel were going to have two. Two babies that Beth was carrying for Pru because she couldn’t and?—
I was a fucking asshole.
Everyone on the Breakers knew the story, knew that Pru had been attacked traumatically as a child, that she’d lost her parents and parts of her body. We all knew she had barely survived and that it was lucky she was here so we could know her.
And I…I knew that Beth was doing something wonderful by carrying Pru and Marcel’s babies.
But every time I looked at her, I felt sick to my stomach.
Unfortunately, that evening, there was nowhere to escape—not without looking like a douche, anyway. I might have douchebag thoughts and be a total asshole behind the shield, but I tried not to let that bleed out onto the people around me.
So…I waited for her to come near, and when she smiled and started to hop onto the stool next to me, I helped her up, ignoring the zing the contact brought to my fingertips.
It had been more than a year since I’d touched—yeah touched—a woman.
A fucking year.
I hadn’t been able to bring myself to touch one—not as a friend, not as a woman I wanted to have beneath me in bed. Not since Monica had fucking destroyed me with some internet-bought ultrasounds and a determination to go the long run with her lies.
But…I’d touched Beth. No. Was touching her, holding her steady as I waited until I was certain her body had made it safely up onto that stool and wasn’t going to tumble down.
She was carrying precious cargo, and I might be a dick on the inside because that fact killed me, but I at least tried to look out for the people in my life, especially those with short legs and who might have an impaired sense of balance because they were carrying twins.
But the feel of Beth’s silky skin beneath my fingertips, how she smelled—floral and fruity—how she cradled her little bump, as though protecting the babies inside her womb from the outside world…reminded me.
Some of Monica and how she’d been.
Some of how she hadn’t.
Plenty of fruit and flowers and silk. No protective cradling.
No baby.
I clenched my free hand into a fist again, waited for Beth to settle so I could pull back.
But before I could, she turned to face me. “Thank God, you’re here,” she exclaimed. “It’s not Cheese Night Extravaganza, but I’m starving and losing my mind because I need mozzarella sticks.” She smiled, glanced down. “Okay, these babies are growing, so they need them, but since they’re going in my mouth, I need them and?—”
She broke off, cheeks flushing prettily.
