Page 98 of Embracing the Beat
MICHAELA
“It’s positive,” I repeat when he doesn’t react, even though, based on the pallor of his skin, he heard me.
I may be angry at how he burst in here questioning me—again—about cheating, but the bigger part of me is freaking the fuck out about the two pink lines in the little window. The second line is as bright as the first, no guessing needed.
“West?”
He still hasn’t said anything, staring catatonically at the wand he holds.
I don’t expect the elated cheer pregnancy test commercials portray. But a smile, a hug, some kind of acknowledgment would really do wonders for my mental state.
A baby.
My hand moves with a mind of its own to tremble against my flat stomach. Life grows under my fingers. My baby. West’s baby.
The movement unlocks the spell he’s been under for the last few minutes. The test clatters to the tile as his mouth compresses into a thin line, his eyes glittering as he stares at me.
“Whose is it?”
His words knock the breath from my lungs.
“What?”
He can’t be serious.
“You heard me.”
“Yeah, but I wish I hadn’t. How can you even ask that?”
Pain lances, hot and sharp, where my heart beats against my chest.
“Can you blame me?” he spits out. “You have to admit your track record is a little sketchy.”
“My—my—my track record?” Anger pushes out the pain.
What the fuck is wrong with him? He acts like he’s a saint, like he’s perfect. Well, I call bullshit.
“First Jax, then Tucker Winston, back to Jax. What’s next? Or should I ask who?”
“Fuck you,” I grit out.
“You already did.” The hard tone of his voice slices like a weapon. And every perfect moment we’ve shared over the last month shatters, a pretty glass vase thrown to the floor. Beautiful, but not meant to last.
“You’re right. I did. And you were right there with me. Doing things, t-teaching me th-things.”
“Don’t act like you were an innocent virgin when we started fucking.”
Bile rises in my throat, burning out the tears stuck there.
“Who are you?” I ask, pushing past my own hurt and anger to figure out why he’s saying all this. “What happened to the man who took care of me when I was sick? Who told me I wasn’t alone?”
He rolls his eyes and makes a sound like he can’t fathom why I’d ask these questions. But I don’t understand. He’s so different from how he’s been—how he’s almost always acted toward me. I’ve had a glimpse of a version of this West before—when he questioned me about Fucker. I don’t want to admit that West isn’t the perfect guy I put on a pedestal a long time ago. Maybe now is when I need to stop deluding myself.
“I told you I hate liars. And I overlooked when you lied about Tucker—”
“I didn’t lie about Tucker!” I yell.
“No, you didn’t tell me. A lie by omission is still a lie. Then there was the lie about how famous you were.” He sneers, and I suck in a breath. Death by a thousand words hurts worse than any other pain I’ve ever experienced. “Time and again, I looked past your lies. This time you went to California to meet up with your ex.”
