Page 146 of Sweet Deception
“You’d rather sleep on the floor than beside me?” His tone sharpened. “Do you hate me that much?”
“Yes,” I snapped. “I hate you that much.”
He smirked, sitting up. “Then we’ll both sleep on the floor.”
“I’m not sleeping next to you,” I insisted.
“How about the edges of the bed?”
“So I can roll off and lose my pregnancy? That’s what you want, isn’t it?”
His face darkened, hurt flickering in his eyes. He stood. “I won’t let you sleep alone. Take the bed, I’ll take the floor.”
“Sleep on the ceiling for all I care.” I climbed into bed and lay down, turning away.
He sighed, grabbed a blanket from the wardrobe, and spread it on the floor. I heard him settle in. A pang stabbed my chest. Here I was, letting my husband sleep on the ground when I could be wrapped in his arms. But he didn’t want our baby, so why should I care?
Sleep eluded me. The weight of everything that had transpired between us, the arguments, the cruelty, the conflicting emotions. kept me wide awake, my thoughts spinning in endless circles. I turned this way and that, the pillow cold and uninviting
After what felt like hours,the faint sound of his breath, steady, rhythmic had me glancing toward him.
I slipped quietly off the bed and crept to his side. He lay still, eyes closed, his breathing even. Was he asleep? I couldn’t tell. I stared at his face, sharp jawline, tousled hair, strangely captivated. Then his eyes snapped open, catching me.
“Staring at me, huh?”
“No,” I lied, retreating to the bed. “Just checking something.”
“You could just ask me to come up there.”
“No.” Though part of me ached to say yes.
“Okay,” he murmured.
“Fine,” I relented. “Come up.”
He rose and slid into bed beside me. I turned to him, curling into his warmth, his arms enveloping me. “You think I can’t protect our child?” he whispered.
“I don’t know. It hurts that you’d want me to abort our baby.”
“You can keep it.” The words came out like a surrender, as if he’d been wrestling with them since the moment I told him. “I’ll protect you, Anna. I’ll protect our child.”
I lifted my head from his chest. “Really?”
“Yeah.”
I settled back, wary. “Is there a ‘but’?”
“No. It’s our baby. We’ll fight for a better, peaceful life for him... or her.”
“How do we handle our families?”
“I’ll deal with them.”
“How? Killing a few people won’t fix this. Even killing my parents wouldn’t change how complicated this is.”
“I’ll figure it out,” he promised. “Can you feel the baby yet?”
I laughed. “You’re clueless about pregnancy, aren’t you? I’m only two weeks along, it’s barely an embryo, not even a fetus.”
