Evelyn
His words sank in, and they still hurt-not because I didn’t trust him, but because I did. Because I believed every word he said. Because I’d always believe him, even when he was the one who hurt me. And yet, here I was, crying in his arms like a wreck.
But how could I blame him? He had been scared too.
I never once felt like a burden-my father never made me feel that way. But Jacob? The very first stage of his life had been nothing but torment. He had every reason to fear the word father because his own had carved scars into him before Rosaline and Enzo found him, before he ever had a chance to heal.
I didn’t know how this realization settled in, but as I felt his breath tremble, his body shake ever so slightly-so slightly, as if he was trying to suppress it just to keep mine steady-it suddenly hit me.
He was human too.
He had been a child too.
He had been terrified too.
“Do you… do you think it was easy for me to make this decision?” My voice cracked as more tears streamed down my face. “Do you think I wasn’t scared? That I didn’t feel like my entire world was caving in?” I sniffled, “I did, Jacob. I was terrified. I wanted to run. I wanted to cry. But then…” I took a shuddering breath. “Then I realized-this is our child. A part of us. And as parents, how could we ever abandon them?”
He remained silent. His thumb traced slow, soothing circles on my side, his lips pressing soft kisses against my temple as I poured my heart out.
“I know it must have been hard for you,” I murmured, “because of your past, because of him.” I swallowed, my throat raw. “Maybe it wasn’t as hard for me, but Jacob… being a mother is terrifying too. It was the hardest decision I’ve ever made. I doubted myself-if I could be good enough, if I could handle this, if I could keep our lives the same… But I still chose this. And not because I believed in myself.” I met his gaze, my voice barely above a whisper. “I believed in us.”
He exhaled sharply, his grip on me tightening.
“Do you not believe in us, Jacob?” I asked. “Do you really think I wouldn’t stand by you when you’re at your lowest? When your past haunts you? When you’re struggling? Why won’t you ever let me in?”
“I believe in us, baby,” he whispered. “Trust me, I fucking do.” His arms curled around me, crushing me to him. “I was just… scared.” His voice was raw, breaking at the edges. “I thought I’d turn into him. That something dark would take over me, that I’d lose control and hurt you. Hurt our baby. I didn’t want that-I didn’t want to be him.”
I felt his lips tremble against my temple
“But if there’s anyone in this world I trust, it’s you.” He exhaled, his breath warm against my skin. “I know you can anchor me. I know you’d do anything for me, even if it meant hurting yourself to keep me safe. That’s what scared me the most. I didn’t want your love to become your destruction.”
My chest ached at his words.
“How many times do I have to tell you that you are my life, Jacob?” I sniffled, my tears slowing. “I want nothing else. Just you. And now… our baby. Is that too much to ask? When are you going to believe me?”
“I believe you, baby,” he murmured, firmer this time. “I believe you more than I believe in myself.” He let out a shaky breath. “I was just scared. And I’m sorry, Evelyn. For everything I said. For everything I did.” He buried his face in my shoulder. “I swear, I never meant a single word of it. I wanted this baby from the very start-I just kept denying it. I tried convincing myself otherwise, but it didn’t work. The moment you walked out of that apartment, the second you disappeared into that elevator… all I could think about was you. You and our baby.” His voice dropped to a whisper. “I don’t know if you’ll ever believe me after all the shit I’ve said, but it’s the truth.” He swallowed hard. “I want this baby, Evelyn. I want to be a father. And I want to stand by your side through all of it. Just give me a chance to prove it to you.”
Little did he know, he didn’t even need to ask.
In my mind, I’d already given him that chance.
Probably the moment he slid behind me and wrapped his arms around me.
Summoning my courage, I slowly turned to face him. His eyes were glassy with unshed tears, his jaw tight, as if bracing himself for rejection.
Instead, I met his gaze and whispered, “So you’re not going to ask me to abort our baby anymore?”
A flicker of pain crossed his face before he cupped my cheek, his thumb gently wiping away my tears.
“Never,” he murmured.
Then he pressed a lingering kiss to my forehead, and I closed my eyes, exhaling slowly.
Because no matter what-he was my peace.
“Are you going to change our baby’s diapers?” I asked after a moment, my voice soft.
A small smile played on his lips. “Yes.”
“And apply lotion?”
His smile grew. “Yes, baby.”
“Are you going to help me put our baby to sleep?”
“Yes. Always.”
“Are you going to stay with me during labor when I’d be ugly crying and screaming?”
“Yes.” His voice was steady, his nod firm. “I won’t leave. Not even for a second.” His thumb traced soft, soothing circles against my cheek.
I bit my bottom lip, worrying it between my teeth, but then I exhaled and pressed my forehead to his. “Then you’re forgiven.”
And I could have sworn I felt him physically relax. His entire body seemed to exhale in one long, unsteady breath, as if he had been holding it in for far too long.
He pulled me into a tight embrace, his arms locking around me as if he never wanted to let go. “Thank you,” he whispered. Again. And again. And again.
I melted into his warmth, my fingers curling into his shirt. “I love you, asshole.”
A quiet chuckle rumbled in his chest. “I love you too.”
His gaze flickered downward, hesitation pooling in his dark eyes. I felt his hand inch toward my stomach before he hesitated, looking back at me. “Can I?”
I smiled. “Of course.”
Slowly, his palm settled over my belly, his fingers tracing gentle patterns across my skin. His touch was light, almost reverent. “There’s no bump yet,” he murmured.
A soft laugh escaped me. “I haven’t reached that stage yet.”
“When will you?”
“Maybe the fifth or sixth month.”
Silence stretched between us. His eyes remained fixed on my stomach, his expression unreadable-until I saw it. The guilt creeping back in, shadowing his face, tightening his jaw.
Then, in the softest whisper, he said, “I’m sorry.”
But he wasn’t speaking to me. He was speaking to our baby.
I cupped his face, guiding his gaze back to mine. “Hey. It’s okay.” My fingers brushed over his jaw, grounding him. “We all make mistakes. Every parent does. What matters is that we learn from them. And you did. That’s enough. We’ll forget all of it-like it never even happened.”
He let out another slow, shaky breath. “I’m sorry,” he whispered again.
“It’s okay.” I pressed a soft kiss to his cheek. Then the other. Then his forehead. “It’s okay,” I whispered, willing him to believe it.
And finally, he nodded. Slowly.
I pulled away just enough to look at him, then leaned in, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to his lips. “Now,” I whispered, “will you cuddle me to sleep?”
His lips quirked at the corners, the ghost of a smile forming. “Are you using me for warmth, ma’am?”
“Yes. My body is aching from exhaustion, and the only way I can make use of you is for cuddles. That’s all you’re good for right now, sir.”
A low chuckle escaped him, warm and deep. “It would be my pleasure, ma’am.”
And with that, he pulled me close, wrapping me in his warmth-just as I always knew he would.