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“I know you think you do, sweetheart, but she won’t give you what I can, what I already have.” She touches her belly softly. “You’ll get over her, you always do, and you’ll come back to me.”
I push her hands away from me and stand up, disgust settling over my face that I don’t even attempt to hide.
“I will never love you, Venus. I never could because what you did is unforgivable. I’m in love with Brontë and nothing you say or do will ever change that.”
“How can you love her? You barely know her. I gave you every part of me and it still wasn’t enough!”
I see so much hurt when I look in her eyes and for as much as I hate her in this instant, I don’t want her hurting. I don’t want her to still pine for me or wish for what could have been.
“Venus, I’m sorry, truly I am. I never meant to lead you on or hurt you in any way. That’s why I tried to be as transparent as possible with you about what kind of future I saw for myself and us. That’s why I never talked about someday when we’re old, or what a family would be like with us. I thought that you wanted the same things as me because you told me you did. You also led me to believe that what I could offer you was enough.”
She stares at me, unblinking, like she doesn’t know what to do or say.
“I’m sorry I shouted. I know that in your condition, the last thing you need is any undue stress. I meant what I said at the restaurant; I will step up and be a father. I won’t resent you or this baby, but it’s going to take time for me to work through it. To trust you, to be happy or excited about it. I’m sorry if that makes me sound like a complete asshole, and to be honest, I feel like a piece of shit that I’m not feeling those things right now.”
“Will you go with me to the twenty-week scan? The doctor says we can find out the sex.”
I shove my hands in my pockets. “Yes. I’ll go with you.”
* * *
It’s been an agonizing week of every day attempting to have some semblance of normalcy between Brontë and me.
“Morning.” I offer a smile in the break room as she makes her morning coffee.
“Morning,” she says without looking up at me from her phone.
I glance around; it’s just the two of us.
“Brontë, can we please just talk?”
“I’m really not interested,” she says, her eyes still glued to the phone.
“Just let me expla?—”
“Please,” she says dogmatically, cutting me off. “Just let me focus and do my job. I’m very stressed about the meeting with Pierce and my father today. I just want to move on from all of this and get this situation figured out and resolved so the acquisition can move forward.”
“I understand.”
She nods and grabs her coffee, her heels clicking against the tile floor as she walks toward the door. She stops in the doorway, looking over at me.
“And thank you,” she says, “for including me in the meeting today.”
I nod and she exits.
Two hours later, we’re seated across from each other in one of the conference rooms with her father Jonas, Jack Niles, and Bryan Winthrop.
It takes every ounce of my being not to stare at Brontë, her beautiful blond hair framing her face like an angelic halo. The sun shines through the windows behind me, highlighting her sparkling blue eyes. I glance back down at my hands, then back to her, hoping that I’m not being too obvious with her father sitting next to me.
It physically hurts my heart to see her so downcast. I can see her smile that she flashes as she shakes the men’s hands, but it doesn’t reach her eyes. It’s empty, hollow. That glow she normally has, has dulled and it’s all my fault. I want nothing more than to fall at her feet and beg her for forgiveness. To make her feel loved and happy again. To bring back that sparkle in her eye but I know the damage has been done and it’s far too late.
“Gentleman,” I say with a nod. “Thank you for meeting with us today. As we all are well aware, Brontë here has pointed out some pretty serious discrepancies in your financial records, and there doesn’t seem to be any sort of reconciliation between accounts, cash flow, credits, debits, etc. Now we’ve had a lot of back and forth and I know we all want this acquisition to move forward so we need to get this resolved today.” I point to the table for emphasis. “Or this is the last time I threaten to walk.”
Jack and Bryan look at one another, Jack nodding to Bryan who has a very serious look on his face. He pulls out his iPad, opening the screen, and sliding it across the table to us.
“Seems like we found the source of the problem.”
Brontë’s ears perk up and she grabs the iPad, bringing it closer as she scrolls through whatever she’s looking at. Slowly, a smile spreads across her face.
