Chapter 6

He covered his cheek with one hand. And — somehow, impossibly — there was hurt in his eyes.

"Hit me again if you want. I deserve it."

"But don't you ever say the word divorce to me. Not ever."

"I told you. I never planned to be unfaithful. There is nothing wrong with our marriage —"

His phone rang in the middle of the sentence.

He froze. His eyes flickered down to the screen, and I watched him weigh it for a few seconds.

He stood up and walked off to take the call.

When he came back, his face had rearranged itself into something carefully apologetic.

"Something urgent has come up at the office. I have to go in."

I looked at him. I didn't say a word.

"Just — calm down for tonight, all right, sweetheart? We'll talk properly when I'm back."

He took a step toward the door.

Then, of course, he turned around.

"In her condition," he said, not quite meeting my eyes, "out of basic responsibility, I have to keep an eye on her too."

"She's close to her due date. These next few weeks I won't be able to get away. And you — you, alone in this big house, hugely pregnant, no one to look after you — how miserable would that be?"

"Better to do it now, while it's still early. You'd suffer less, too."

"Once her babies are born, we'll bring them home. We'll put them under your name. You'd still be Mrs. Lockwood. They'd have a place in the family."

"Nothing between us would have to change."

He looked at me, walked out without looking back.

The apartment went still.

I sat there for a long time, looking at the door.

Then I laughed.

He made it sound so reasonable.

*She was about to give birth, so he had no time to take care of me. I would be alone, carrying my belly, with no one by my side.*

So why not just end it first?

The night outside the window was deep and black. I just sat there, one hand on my stomach, and let the hours bleed into each other.

I didn't cry. I was past that.

I had nothing left to give this man — not even my tears.

By the time the doorbell rang, the sky outside was already pale.

I crossed the apartment on legs that felt like they belonged to someone else, and opened the door.

My mother-in-law stood there, with Bridget — Calder's new wife — at her side.

"Oh, Nina, honey. You look terrible. Have you eaten anything at all?"

Bridget stepped inside first and grabbed both my hands.

I tried to pull back. She held on.

"Mom got the call last night and didn't sleep a wink, sweetheart. She had me drag her out here before sunrise to come see how you were holding up."

Mrs. Lockwood walked past her. She settled onto my couch like she owned it.

That slow, unhurried grace — I used to think it was elegance. Now I knew more.

I sat.

"Mom knows you're hurting, dear." She took my hand. Her rings were cold against my fingers.

"I'll have a serious talk with Ethan, I promise you. But Nina — you have to be reasonable too."

"That girl is carrying twins. That's two lives."

I looked at her kind, lined face.

I listened to every word coming out of her mouth — reasonable, decent, two lives.

"Mother." My voice came out raw, hoarser than I'd expected.

"Are you saying the same thing as Ethan, then?"

"Are you telling me to abort my baby?"

Her expression didn't change. Not by a flicker. Not by a millimeter.

"They're all my grandchildren. Of course it breaks my heart to lose any of them. But that girl is threatening to take her own life, Nina."

"One wrong move and we'd lose her and the twins — three lives, all at once."

She patted my hand, the way you'd humor a child.

"That's not how Lockwoods handle things, dear. It's beneath us."

Beneath us.

So forcing me to abort my own baby — that wasn't beneath them, was it?

I pulled my hand back. I stood up.

"I can't do it," I said. My voice was very quiet, and very steady.

"This is my child. I'm three months along. He has a heartbeat."

"I am not aborting him."