Page 42 of Let's Be Forever

His gaze drops to my chest, but it jolts away just as quickly. He stares at me, eyes darting across my face.

“Whatever it is, just ask. There is no point in holding back.” I shrug, toying with a chipped nail.

“Are they still pierced?”

How did I not see that coming? I sit up, acutely aware of how my nipples rub against my bra. “I took them out because it wasn’t safe while I was breastfeeding Rosie, but a few months after I stopped, I got them repierced.”

It was all on a whim. Jenny had a few days off, so she came to Boston, and after a few drinks, she managed to convince me.

Green eyes drop, stare, and lift. “Hmm.”

“Are we done talking about my nipples, or do you have more questions?”

The corners of his lips tick up. “No more questions.”

I find myself smiling but quickly flatten my lips. I’m about to tell him what his parents did. I shouldn’t be smiling.

“So when I found out, I knew I needed to tell you.” I inhale sharply, but no amount of breathing quells the painful way my heart lurches or how it’s in a constant state of shriveling. “I called, I texted, I DM’d, I emailed you. I tried everything and then one day the calls went straight to voicemail and the texts wouldn’t go through. And when I tried your socials, I was blocked. I thought maybe you were…I don’t know, processing your injury and the breakup, so I flew back to see you.

“When I showed up to your building, I was barred from going up. They said you took me off the list and that I was not allowed access, no matter what I said. Your mom showed up, as if she knew I was there, and said…” My throat tightens. I hate that even after all these years, Clara’s voice still makes me feel so small. “You know what, it doesn’t even matter.”

His jaw tics, the warmth in his eyes gone, replaced with resentment. “It does matter. It really matters because I wasn’t there for you. I promised you I would be and I wasn’t. Anna, I fucking hate myself for not being there. I hate that I missed out.I hate that they took that from you, from Rosie, from me. The thought of Rosie and you growing up thinking I wanted nothing to do with this is eating at me, it makes me want to lash out and commit murder.” He drops his head forward, pulling at the ends of his hair. “The only reason I haven’t confronted them is because I want to know everything they did first. So if you feel comfortable, please tell me, but if you don’t, that’s okay too. I just want you to know I’m not going anywhere. I promise. I’m here, Anna. We’re going to do this together.”

I know he’s not lying. I know he’s being sincere, but fear gnaws at me.

“You wouldn’t last in prison,” I say, needing to lighten the situation and help dissolve the knot in my throat.

The anger melts off his face, and he scoffs with feigned offense. “I would last.”

“Let them hear that posh accent of yours and you’re done.”

He rolls his eyes. “I don’t have a posh accent. We’ve been over this. You’ve heard my father. Now that’s posh.”

“Sy, you do. It’s really—what?” I stare at him, puzzled, because his expression has changed to something tender, reminiscent.

“I never thought I’d hear you call me Sy again. I missed hearing you say that.” He sounds both devastated and relieved. Even if he didn’t, his eyes convey the emotions I was trying so hard to pretend weren’t there.

We’re done, I remind myself for the millionth time. Sylas being back means nothing to me. When he broke my heart, I had to fix it myself. I’m still not fully healed, so no matter what he says or how he looks at me, I’m not going to fall.

Not again.

Clearing my throat, I change the subject. “So, um, your mom…”

“Sylas already told you to leave him alone. Please don’t make me get a restraining order against you. I really like you, Anna, and would hate to do that.” Clara clicks her tongue, huffing a heavy breath.

I tell myself to keep it cool. I’m not usually a crier, but ever since I found out I was pregnant, my emotions have been all over the place.

“He’s the father of my child,” I grit. “He needs to?—”

She grips my arm, manicured nails digging into my skin, and jerks me to the side. “Keep your voice low. You’re causing a scene.”

I tug my arm away, nostrils flaring as tears fog my vision. “I just need to talk to him. I need him to know that I’m pregnant.”

“Anna.” She smiles coyly, but her tone is patronizing. “We don’t even know if this baby is his. You have been away. We don’t know what you’ve been”—she gives me a once-over—“up to.”

Her words feel like a slap to the face. My face blisters, and hot tears cascade down. “You know more than anyone that is not the case. I’ve been busy with work and?—”

“We know you’ve been…busy.”