Page 36 of Freed By Fire
Carlisle offers a grunt as a reply.
In silence, he leads me back to the club, where Olivia is still swaying on the dance floor.
My heart feels like it’s going to jump out of my chest as I place one foot in front of the other and head for a booth in the back.
I blink and realize a few of the clients are throwing long looks my way. Frowning, I adopt a bored expression. Then, I saunter forward and take a stick of gum from my purse. I hide my tremor as I shove it into my mouth and chew, the strawberry taste doing little to settle my nervous stomach.
What the hell am I doing?
I barely survived getting caught by Mason once, and I know he won’t be as forgiving the second time.
Why, then, am I so eager to tempt fate?
Because the second you saw the two pink lines, everything changed. The stakes are different for you now, and you know it.
As soon as I’m sure no one is looking, I sink into the booth and splay my fingers over my stomach. I try not to glance down, but it’s hard. All I want to do is go back to the manor, lie down in bed, and imagine my baby’s heartbeat.
I can almost picture him now, a tiny little bundle with Mason’s stormy eyes and my bright hair.
My heart dips at the sight, and I find my thoughts drifting to Mason.
Try as I might, I can’t imagine him drawing me closer to him in public or brushing our baby’s hair out of their face.
I can’t even imagine him holding a baby in his arms.
And it makes my heart shrink.
A waitress returns with a drink and a plate of peanuts. I give her a half-smile, but I don’t touch anything. The longer I stare at the table, the worse I feel.
Mason and I will never have that kind of normalcy or anonymity.
How can we when he lives in a world that thrives on chaos and bloodshed?
You’ve known who he was from the start, London. He’s never lied about that, and he has changed for you. Why can’t that be enough?
I choke back a sob and hunch lower in my seat.
I want it to be enough so badly that I grip the table and lower my head.
I have no idea who I’m praying to, or what I’m praying for.
All I know is that it isn’t about me anymore.
Every step I take, every decision I make has to be for the good of the baby.
Whatever happens moving forward, I have to do whatever I can to make sure they aren’t born into the eye of the storm with war waging outside the window.
What kind of life would I be condemning the baby to if I didn’t try to make it better?
Is that why you’re here instead of safely at the manor? Come on, London. Don’t be stupid. You’re not going to be the one to bring this to an end. It can’t be that simple.
Still, I have to try because sitting around in the manor, pacing the empty halls, and waiting for news is chipping away at me.
I have to do something, even if I fail.
And what about Mason, huh? Doesn’t he have the right to know at least one of the reasons why you’re doing this? It’s his baby, too.
Even if he doesn’t want the baby, it doesn’t change the fact that he’s the father.
