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Ouch, that hurt to hear. And knowing her the way I did, she probably delivered that line with a straight face. Did she really feel that way now? Is that what she spent the night tossing and turning over?

“Mouse, what do you want from me?”

“For you to tell me what’s really going on. I was hopeful for you guys. Seemed like when you were gone in America—”

“Not sure why you thought that, but again, that’s not on me.”

“Why are you being like this?”

A sharp pulse started behind my right eye. I closed my eyes briefly. This wasn’t Mouse’s fault. I had no reason to be angry with her.

“Maybe if you took things slow. Showed her she didn’t have to be afraid of a dynamic. That she might find freedom in aspects of it.”

My jaw clenched hard. I tilted my head back, staring at the ceiling. Of course she went with that. A humorless laugh almost escaped me. I could practically hear Isabella saying it. Carefully choosing every word. Trying to explain our distance without explaining the real reason.

The realization hurt, even though I couldn’t be mad. What else was she supposed to do? Tell Kinsley the truth? Tell her about the baby? Tell her about the decision she’d made?

“Look,” I said more quietly, forcing myself to unclench my jaw. “Marcus is waiting.”

Kinsley didn’t move, and neither did I. For a moment, we simply stared at one another. Then she sighed.

“It’s like I don’t even know you.”

Welcome to the club. Because neither did I any more. That was the real problem. I didn’t know how to move forward without Isabella in some capacity.

“Go home, Myshka.”

The nickname softened the words. It was my attempt at a peace offering. An apology, if you will. She studied me for another second before finally nodding.

“Regardless of what is going on. I love you.”

My throat tightened. “And I love you, too.”

The smile she gave me didn’t reach her eyes. Then she reached up onto her tiptoes and pulled. I leaned down, and she planted a soft kiss on the top of my head before turning and walking away.

I disappeared into the office to shower. The club was the safest option for me. At least there I could lose myself in the noise, the crowd, and maybe a drink or two. The perfect distraction.

An hour later, I walked through the doors. The familiar thumping of the bass from the speakers and the dim, pulsing lights greeted me like an old friend. I wasn’t there but two seconds when Sebastian pinned me with his steely gaze.

Was he waiting for me? Had Kinsley told him I was coming? Fuck me.

A sense of foreboding weighed heavily on my lungs. I walked over to the bar, taking a seat next to him.

“Whiskey, neat,” I ordered.

He looked like hell. His hair was disheveled. He was sporting bloodshot eyes and hunched shoulders. It was startling to see him this way. He stared into his drink.

God, was this what I had to look forward to? Would it ever stop hurting?

Stupidly, I went down the rabbit hole last night. One search had turned into five. Five had turned into ten. By three in the morning, I knew entirely too much about pregnancy.

With her admitting she was three and a half weeks late, that would put her at about seven and a half weeks along. Our child was the size of a blueberry. Maybe that’s why breakfast was almost impossible for me to get through. They were one of Declan’s favorites.

According to several websites, tiny arms and legs were already beginning to form. I couldn’t stop thinking about that. Of course, they looked more like paddles. And apparently, the brain was developing at an astonishing rate. That fact lodged itself somewhere deep inside and refused to leave.

New brain cells were generating as I was killing mine with alcohol. How ironic? I took a long swallow of whiskey. It didn’t help.

Then don’t get me started on how my princess’s body was changing in relation to growing our child. Every fact only made the loss feel more real. The worst was, by now, there was a heartbeat. I wish I’d never learned that.