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He doesn’t let me, instead he rests his hands on the wall, caging me in. “It’s not your decision, Abigail. It’s all in the contract you signed.”
Is it? I thought I’d read every clause, every… shit, some of it was so convoluted, heavy with legal jargon and Latin terms, I kinda just gave up on it. The woman from the podcast vouched for this place, and I trusted her experience, desperate to feel whatever she’d felt.
“I-I’m not lying,” I whisper.
He shakes his head. “I’m not here to determine your guilt or innocence. I’m here to uphold your contract. And then, in due time, science will show the truth.”
I open my mouth to tell him that I haven’t had sex with anyone else, ready to fight to make him really hear me. But as Soren and Mickey round the corner, I don’t get the chance and instead clamp my mouth shut, pressing my lips together.
“What’s going on?” Soren asks, sounding confused as he takes in the way the stranger is still keeping me pinned against the wall.
Mickey’s silver eyes are flinty, yet they soften a fraction as our gazes lock. “You okay?” he asks. When I nod, he nods. “Let her go right now.” The command is sharp.
The man drops his arms and takes a few steps back, giving me back my space. “Are you sure you’re up to guarding her?” he asks, ignoring my protests about not needing to be looked after. “You’ll be responsible for everything she does between now and until we have the results of the paternity test.”
Wait, Dr. Patel said they had to keep an eye on me until I give birth, but he just said until we get the answers to the paternity test. So which is it? Instead of asking, I make a mental note to use this as a bargaining chip for when we have the results.
“We’re sure,” Soren says, his tone dark. I’m shocked when he reaches for me and pushes me behind him and Mickey. “She’s ours.”
Those words are enough to make my heart jump with glee, which is beyond stupid. This isn’t some kind of messed up declaration of love, they’re just… I don’t know. Not protecting me. No, it’s more likely they’re not willing to let someone else torment me.
The man nods. “Good,” he says curtly.
With those words, he walks by us, disappearing around the corner leading back to Dr. Patel’s office.
Gail
The silence in the car is suffocating as we drive away from Dr. Patel’s office. Soren’s knuckles are white on the steering wheel, his jaw clenched tight. Mickey stares straight ahead, eyes hard as steel. Neither of them speaks a word to me, the unwanted elephant in the backseat.
I curl my arms around my stomach, pretending I can feel the tiny flicker of life inside me. Fet. But from the icy chill radiating off the guys in the front, you’d think it was a death sentence instead of a new beginning. My eyes flick up to the rearview mirror, catching Mickey’s gaze for a split second before he looks away. I swallow the lump in my throat. “So, what now?” My voice sounds small, even to my own ears.
Soren exhales sharply through his nose. “Now we apparently have to fucking babysit you until we find out if you’ve spread your legs for anyone else.”
“Screw you,” I mutter under my breath. There’s no real heat behind my words because truthfully, I’m glad for them. Keeping up this back-and-forth stops me from thinking about the man at the doctor’s.
Mickey’s eyes flash to mine in the mirror again, narrowing. “You got something to say, Gail? Because now would be a great fucking time.”
I bite my lip, shaking my head. Arguing won’t get us anywhere right now, not with tempers running this high. I lean my forehead against the cool glass of the window, watching the city blur by as Soren drives.
After a stretch of tense quiet, broken only by the low rumble of the engine, the car slows and turns unexpectedly. I frown as I recognize my street. “Why are we—”
“To get your stuff,” Soren interrupts gruffly as he parks in front of my apartment building. “You should be happy, since this is what you’ve been fucking bitching about.”
My eyebrows shoot up. “Excuse me?” I don’t even know why I’m bothering to argue since the owner—or who I presume to be the owner—of Cupid’s laid down the law, and even if the guys are dicks, I’d rather be with them than whatever would happen to me if I allowed the owner to look after me.
Look after me… I want to scoff at the notion that I need looking after like a kid that can’t be trusted not to shove his or her fingers into a light socket.
Mickey twists in his seat to look at me, eyes flinty. “No. We won’t fucking excuse you. You heard what was said, so why even fight it?”
“I never said I wanted to go with you,” I sniff, trying to sound put out. The truth is that I can’t remember if I said it or just thought it.
Soren shrugs. “We can turn around right now if you’d rather—”
“No!” I shout. “It’s… fine. I’ll…” Taking a deep breath, I try to calm myself.
“Not that it matters what you want,” Mickey unhelpfully adds. “The decision is ours. We said you’re ours, so that’s the way it is.”
I glare at both of them, anger and humiliation heating my cheeks. But beneath it all, I can’t deny the small thrill that zips through me at the possessive edge to their words. Goddamn pregnancy hormones.
