Page 138 of Freed
“Five months means you were fucking him around the time we met.”
Her hand moves instinctively to her stomach. That protective gesture should not irritate me, but it does. Because that baby should be mine or maybe I should have never fell for her lies.
“Five months means you stood in front of me all those nights already knowing.” Another step. “It means you let memake a fool of myself while you were laughing behind my back.”
Her eyes flash. “I never laughed at you.”
“No,” I say coldly. “You just lied more prettily than most.”
“That isn’t fair.”
Fair. The word means nothing in this kitchen.
“Fair?” I repeat. “You want fair? Fair would have been telling me before I tore apart half of Europe trying to find you.”
“It is not that simple.”
“Then simplify it for me.”
Her breathing changes. Fast now. Sharp. I know that look. The one that says she’s cornered and deciding whether to bite or run. I should step back. Instead I move closer.
“Did you know the first night we met?” I ask.
She says nothing.
“Did you know when you let me touch you?”
Nothing.
“Did you know last night?” My voice drops lower. More dangerous. “When I had my hand over your stomach and you looked at me like I had a right to be there?”
Her face crumples for one split second before she hardens it again. “Stop.”
“No.”
“Please.”
That should have stopped me. It doesn’t. Because I am thinking about the way I said love, and how every soft thing between us has been built on a lie older than us.
“Were you ever going to tell me?” I ask.
I step back before I do something unforgivable.
When I speak again, my voice is perfectly level. “Get dressed.”
Her head snaps up. “What?”
“You heard me.”
Fear flickers now, bright and unmistakable. “Where are we going?”
“We aren’t.” I pick up my phone. “I am.”
She stares at me. “Lorenzo?—”
“Don’t.” I don’t raise my voice. I don’t need to. “Whatever excuse you were about to make, save it.”
“It’s not an excuse.”
