Page 101 of Ruthless Claim

“Sit down,” she says.

“Well hello to you too.”

“Sit.”

I sit down and busy myself getting comfortable, while being highly aware that Emma is still looking at me.

I glance up to see that her brows are pulled together and her mouth is flat.

She’s reading something in my face that I clearly haven’t managed to hide.

“How bad is the sickness today?” she asks.

“Manageable.” I reach for the menu. “Crackers for breakfast. I need something bland.”

“I would recommend eggs but those made me nauseous. Try some oatmeal.” She pauses. “What happened?”

I blink. “What makes you think something happened?”

Emma blows her bangs out of her face just as Seraphina starts to fuss. Without taking her eyes off me, she finds the pacifier and sticks it in the baby’s mouth, rocking the stroller slowly. “You and Leo get the same look on your face when something’s bothering you but you don’t want to say it. I’ll tell you what I’ve told your brother—tough shit. You’re going to tell me. What’s wrong?”

I put the menu down and sigh heavily. I really need to stop going out with Emma “Really Fucking Perceptive” Santoro.

“Something’s wrong with Cillian,” I confess.

Emma pales, but her hand stays on the stroller handle as she tries to lull Seraphina to sleep.

Her expression doesn’t change dramatically—just a slight drop of the brows and a tightening around her eyes.

“Tell me,” she says.

So I do. I tell her about the calls on the balcony, how he was gone all day and didn’t tell me what he was doing—just saying it was something for Connor.

How affection between us has ceased and how we’re like roommates.

“He came home one night and when I woke up, he was sitting in the armchair watching me sleep. When I opened my eyes he…his face just—” I stop, swallowing painfully. “Whatever he was feeling, he just shut it off.”

Emma watches me but doesn’t say anything yet.

“He’s lying to me,” I admit out loud for the first time and it makes me feel sick. “He’s giving me pieces of the truth and calling it the whole thing. But I’m not stupid. Something’s wrong.” I look down at the table. “There’s no more ginger tea.”

“There’s no more ginger tea?” Emma asks in confusion, fingers quickly putting the pacifier back in Seraphina’s mouth after she spit it out.

“Ever since I told Cillian I’m pregnant, he’s always made me ginger tea because he read it helps with nausea.” My eyes burn but I refuse to let the tears fall. “He stopped doing so.”

Emma’s mouth softens and her brows come together differently. “Val,” she says quietly.

“I know how it sounds.” I hear the edge in my voice and I can’t help it. “I’m not upset about tea. It’s just—everything felt real. It was real. And now he’s—” I press my lips together. Stop. There are people having normal lunches eight inches away from me and my eyes are stinging. I will not cry in public. “I don’t know what’s happening.”

Seraphina spits out her pacifier and makes a sound.

It’s not quite a cry, but it definitely sounds like she’s warning us that she will.

Emma glances at her and once she’s satisfied she’s not in distress, she puts the pacifier back in the baby’s mouth and looks at me.

“What are you thinking about?” Emma asks in a low voice, green eyes tracking my every facial expression. “Worst thoughts.”

I look at the table. “That the pregnancy was too much,” I say flatly. “That he actually looked at everything properly and decided he doesn’t want this.” I pause. “Or maybe there’s someone else. I don’t think it’s someone else, but at three in the morning I can’t stop my brain from⁠—”