Page 92 of Nine Months to Love
He doesn’t even bother to insist he does. Instead, he turns away from me, heading for the door. “Figure out how to control her, Olivia. Or this arrangement ends. The baby changes nothing.”
“Stefan, wait?—”
But he’s already gone. The door slams behind him, and I’m left sitting on the coffee table in the darkness, tears streaming down my face.
I sit there for a long time. Long enough for my legs to go numb. Long enough for the tears to dry on my cheeks. Long enough to replay every word he said, every accusation he threw at me.
Naive.
Stupid.
Weak.
Is that really what he thinks of me?
Or is he just lashing out because he’s hurt? Because whatever happened today pushed him to a breaking point, and I was the nearest target?
I don’t know. I don’t know anything anymore.
I walk to the window where Stefan was sitting earlier and look out at the city. Boston sprawls below, full of lights and life and happy people going about their business. What I wouldn’t give to be amongst them right now, utterly oblivious to what’s happening in this horrible room.
I press my forehead against the cool glass and close my eyes.
Maybe Stefan is right. Maybe I am naive. I trusted Natalia when I should have been more guarded. I let my mother steamroll me when I should have stood my ground. I keep thinking people will change, will be better, will love me the way I need them to.
But they don’t.
They won’t.
And I’m the fool for expecting otherwise.
My hand drifts to my stomach. There’s no visible sign yet, no bump or swell. But I know what’s growing there. In a few months, everything will change.
I thought Stefan and I were building something. But his words tonight shattered that illusion. He doesn’t see a future with me. He sees a mistake to be corrected.
The baby changes nothing.
30
STEFAN
What the fuck did I just do?
I can’t believe the things that came out of my mouth. Toxic shit, unforgivable shit. Irreversible shit.
Naive.
Stupid.
Weak.
I sink back onto the sofa and drop my head into my hands.
I didn’t mean any of it. Not a single goddamn word.
The truth is so much worse than what I said. The truth is that, when I look ten years into the future, Olivia is always there. Standing beside me. Arguing with me. Challenging me. Making me better than I have any right to be.
Of course I want to marry her.
