Page 28 of Seein’ Red

“Are you out of your fucking mind?”

“Nope.” I shake my head, heart still racing but my mouth starting to work again. “I know what I’m doing. I know what I’m asking.”

“You didn’t ask anything, Nash.”

Touché.

“I am. I’m asking you to marry me. Let me do the right thing by you.”

“Do the right thing by me? This isn’t 1954!”

I swallow hard. I’m not wording this well. Then again, is there a good way to word this? Not where there’s a metaphorical shotgun involved. And shit, when Auggie Hayes finds out what I did to his daughter, there will probably be a real shotgun involved. One pointed straight at my head.

And I won’t blame him one bit.

Still, this might be my chance. Prove to her that I’m not what she thinks and that there’s more to us than just pushing each other’s buttons and lights out sex. That not everything has to be a fight. For me to show her that I can be the man she wants. The one she deserves.

“It’s what you do in these situations,” I defend, standing back up again. Again, poor start, but it’s something.

Willa scoffs, throwing her hands out wide. “Again, it’s not 1954! I will not be someone’s charity case.”

“Who said anything about being a charity case?”

Where the hell did that come from? I understand that her emotions are all over the place right now, but that’s straight out of left field, even for her.

“You! When you dropped to your fucking knee like you’re some knight in shining armor, rescuing my dignity. Because ‘it’s the right thing to do.’”

The air quotes she makes emphasizing her last point are borderline violent. Her rage is palpable and my insides squeeze, wishing there was something I could do to make this better. Everything I say only seems to make it worse.

“Here’s the thing, Nash. I get that you want to be all noble or whatever, but that’s not how this works. This is my problem, not yours. And certainly not ours. How this plays out is all up to me,” she continues, rounding the bed, putting more distance between us. “So you can see yourself out.”

See myself out? Fuck no. That is not how this is going to work. If Willa thinks she’s going to shut me out of all this, then she’s in for a surprise.

“I will not,” I say through gritted teeth. “If you are having our baby, then this is an us thing. I don’t care what you think, Willa—it is.”

“Is fucking not!” she tosses back, eyes flashing with irritation. “We're not a couple, Nash. There is no us. And that’s how it’s going to stay.”

Anger flares up in me. She’s right; we’re not a couple, but that doesn’t mean there isn’t an us. There is. I need to show her that.

But her statement raises another question in me. One that stings even more. My stomach flips as it bounces around in my head, knowing that her answer has the possibility to change everything.

“You didn’t plan on telling me, did you?” I ask, bracing myself.

“I hid it from the girls so what do you think?”

Ouch…

There it is. The confirmation I didn’t want. Willa had—probably still has—zero intention of involving me. Zero intention of even cluing me in to my part in all this. This is not the kind of thing she could have kept a secret forever, at least not the baby part. But I know her. If she was determined enough, she’d take the secret of who the father is to the grave. And if she didn’t let the girls in on her missing period, then she’s determined enough.

Hid it from the girls…

“Wait one second…” I growl. Willa snarls back, her own contempt forming a wall around her. “That waiter.”

“What waiter?”

“The one from that place y’all took Kenzie. The one who was apparently all over you.” Something I can’t name rises up in me. A possessive jealousy that burns deeper the more it spreads, consuming my whole body. I ball up my fists, the ire taking control. “You were going to sleep with someone else while pregnant with our baby?”

The color drains from Willa’s face, but the white is quickly replaced by red. A furious, fire engine color that is unmistakable. All it does it fuel my own feelings, the burning turning into a raging wildfire with each second.