Page 91 of Nine Months to Love
I wave a hand. “It’s fine. I mean, well, no, it’s not fine, but it’s not the end of the world. At least that’s a fact, right? She alsotold them that we might be getting married. Which is absurd and self-serving and?—”
“What the fuck is wrong with her?” He’s on his feet again, pacing now. “No one can know you’re pregnant. What if it gets back to my mother?”
The air goes out of my lungs. “I... Stefan, what are you talking about? Your mother already knows.”
He stops mid-stride. Turns to face me. “What?”
“She already knows about the baby. Natalia does, I mean. She guessed when I was with her.”
“How?” His face is absolutely stricken with panic. “How the fuck does she know?”
“Well, like I said, she just sorta guessed. And I?—”
“And you confirmed it?”
I swallow hard. “I... yes. She already knew, Stefan. There was no point in lying.”
“‘No point’?” He laughs miserably. “‘No point’ in keeping the single most important piece of leverage away from a woman who wants to destroy me?”
“She’s your mother?—”
“She’s a wolf out for blood.” He takes a step toward me. Then another. “And you just handed her exactly what she needed to hurt me.”
“That’s not fair. I didn’t know?—”
“You didn’t know because you’re naive.” Another step. “You walk around thinking everyone has good intentions. That people can be reasoned with and that all mothers love their children.”
“Stefan—”
“You have no idea what you’ve done.” He’s close now. Close enough that I can see the fury in his eyes, the tremor as his hands shake with the effort of not... what? Hitting something? Breaking something? Breakingme?
“I’m sorry,” I whisper. “I didn’t mean to?—”
“You need to disabuse her of that notion. Immediately.”
“Disabuse Natalia…?”
“No. Your mother. You said she thought we’d get married next. You need to tell her otherwise.”
I feel pain before I understand why. “What are you saying, Stefan?”
“Tell her there will be no marriage. She needs to stop spreading rumors and making assumptions about my life.” His jaw works. “I can’t marry into a family of shameless social climbers who use their children as bargaining chips.”
My breath catches. “That’s not fair.”
“Isn’t it?” He leans in. I can smell scotch on his breath. “Your mother parades you around like a show pony and chants my name like it’s the same thing as saying open fucking sesame to every door of Boston high society. And you know what?You let her.”
“I don’t let her do anything!” I cry out. “You don’t know what it’s like?—”
“Oh, yes, I fucking do. I know exactly what it’s like to have a mother who sees you as a tool.” His voice is cold now, controlled, with none of the anger from a moment ago. Which somehow makes it worse. “The difference is, I cut mine out of my life. You keep trying to win yours over.”
Tears sting my eyes. “You’re being cruel.”
“It’s the truth.” He straightens up, putting distance between us again. “And here’s another truth: I could never marry a woman naive enough to trust my mother. You were stupid enough to confirm her suspicions about the pregnancy and you were weak enough to let her own mother walk all over you. Do you think that’s endearing, Olivia?”
Each accusation finds a soft spot, a vulnerability I didn’t know I was exposing. I feel like I’m being stabbed again and again.
“You don’t mean that,” I manage.
