Total pages in book: 150
Estimated words: 142818 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 714(@200wpm)___ 571(@250wpm)___ 476(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 142818 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 714(@200wpm)___ 571(@250wpm)___ 476(@300wpm)
It was all me.
On some level, not that deep down, I’d known this was going to happen. Fuck, on some level, I’d wanted this to happen so the truth would be shoved to the surface. So we’d have to tell everyone. So no one could hurt Elden. He was the father of my baby now. He was not just the older man who took advantage of a member’s stepdaughter.
That and I wanted this for Elden. For me.
Even though I’d droned on to anyone who would listen that I wouldn’t exist just to be a mother, a housewife... That I had a different life in store for myself.
Yet here I was.
“I can’t talk to you right now.” I pushed him away so I could stand up. I felt vaguely sick and mad at myself, yet happiness crept up from somewhere deep. Peace threatened to settle at the possibility of getting everything I wanted. A family. A life with Elden. But I pushed it away. Because I was too fucked-up. Scared. Whatever.
“You sure as fuck aren’t leaving right now,” Elden bit out, moving to stand between me and the door.
I put my hand on my hip. “It is my little brother’s first birthday,” I huffed in frustration. “What are you going to do, stop me bodily?”
Elden flexed his fists at his sides, and his eyes flared with fury, but he didn’t do anything. He wasn’t going to physically force me to stay there, though I could see him battling with it.
So I used that moment to push past him and walked purposefully out of the clubhouse.
Chapter Seventeen
I’d pulled myself together enough so no one noticed what a mess I was at the party. I’d changed out of my sweater because the sun was shining, making it unseasonably warm for the time of year. I chose a white sundress, putting a light cardigan on top. My face was still too pale, my eyes a little red from the tears I’d let escape, but it was easy to miss.
The party itself was lovely chaos, all of the Sons of Templar children running around, laughing, screaming and causing trouble.
Men in cuts were scattered everywhere, my stepfather at the barbeque with Hansen and Hades.
Freya was sitting by the pool wearing a gingham bathing suit and heart shaped glasses. Hades was not even pretending to be grilling, staring directly at her.
Macy was wiping food off one of the boy’s faces.
Caroline was sitting on her husband’s lap.
Music poured from the speakers, the desert yawning from beyond my mother’s garden.
“Violet!” my mother greeted, Declan on her hip. “Where have you been?”
She frowned at me as she stopped in front of me, inspecting my face. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine, Mom.” I didn’t look at her, instead focusing my attention on Declan, tickling his stomach.
My mother didn’t look convinced, but Swiss yelled, “Countess, where are we putting the burgers?” from across the patio, temporarily distracting her.
“He says he can do anything, yet when it comes to finding a place to put a plate of burgers, he’s helpless,” she scowled. “Can you take him?” she asked, not waiting for me to answer before handing me Declan.
I took him gratefully, thankful for Swiss’s intervention and for my baby brother’s existence.
“Happy birthday, sweet boy!” I cooed, lifting up my little brother, kissing his chubby check and reveling in his squeal of delight.
Declan Carter was simply the cutest baby on planet Earth. He was thoroughly adored by his parents, by his big sister, his grandparents and everyone in the Sons of Templar. He was curious, cheeky and always smiling.
He brought a light to our lives that I was constantly grateful for. And he potentially may have a … niece or nephew who was less than two years younger than him.
If I was brave enough to move forward with the life I’d secretly wanted since the second Elden and I became Elden and I.
But holding my brother, basking in the sun of the garden my mother had curated and turned into a paradise, I couldn’t even entertain the thought of repeating that process.
Having the abortion had been best choice for me.
The only choice for me at that time.
I didn’t feel any regret, any guilt because it was not created from love. It was a result of deception. A product of a terrible moment in my life, and had I not made that decision, one that would’ve defined me in ways I didn’t want to be defined.
Those were my reasons for making that choice. Every woman had her own reason that had nothing to do with anyone else.
But I had no reason to make that choice now. Not when we had created something out of love. Even if our situation was complicated beyond words. Even if it would take my life in a direction I couldn’t even fathom, it was ours.