The Bachelor Contract(50)

“Sometimes…” His voice trembled. “Sometimes I think I would have been a horrible father.”

Nikki didn’t say anything.

He kept talking. “I still get nightmares. I can’t even make it through a baby food commercial without losing my shit.”

She hiccupped out a sob and released his hand.

“I think, how the hell would I have been able to take care of one tiny life, when I couldn’t even take care of my own wife? When firemen had to break her out of our shitty apartment because I couldn’t afford something nicer with a working fire alarm? A miracle.” Brant snorted in disgust. “They said it was a miracle you were even alive. And when I saw you at the hospital you weren’t yourself—you were in shock.”

Nikki shook her head. “No. Stop.”

The words wouldn’t stop coming. “You said, ‘My baby died, and now I have nothing. I have nothing.’” Brant shuddered. “You still had me, or at least I thought you did, and then when I found out that you couldn’t see all I kept thinking was ‘I did this, I ruined her life.’ I should have never married you.”

She jerked back as though he’d slapped her.

“I ruined your life. And then I was too hurt to live it with you. Too angry at you for saying those things even though you were in shock. Too angry at myself for not being enough. And too fucking devastated to deal with the pain.” Brant leaned back against the tile wall, then sunk to the floor, putting his head in his hands.

“Brant?” Nikki held out both hands, feeling around the shower. “Brant?”

He wanted to ignore her. To let her believe he’d left. But the look on her face, the real fear that it could possibly be true, wrecked him. “Here, I’m right here.”

She slowly lowered herself to her knees and felt around, her small hands tapping the floor until she found his foot, and then she slowly slid both hands up his body. “Are you looking at me?”

“What do you think?”

She hung her head, her wet hair sticking to her cheeks.

“All I ever do when I’m with you is look at you” he said gruffly. “It’s a kindness that you can’t see.”

“Why?”

“The eyes are the windows to the soul,” he whispered. “And you‘ve always owned mine.”

“Even now?”

He was quiet and then shuddered out an exhale, leaning back against the tile. “Even now.”

Awareness sizzled between them like an electrical current, and then she was laying her head against his chest. “Sometimes I have dreams I’m still pregnant. I wake up empty.”

He clutched his eyes shut and tried to swallow. “I’m so damn sorry.”

“You couldn’t fix it, Brant. You can’t fix everything.”

“Trust me, I know.”

“And you have to trust me on this.” She pressed an open-mouth kiss to his wet chest, her lips searing his skin. “You would have been the best father in the world.”

He stiffened. “You’re wrong.” He didn’t trust himself to say any more, so he held her in his arms, until the water turned cold, until she shivered in his embrace.

And just like that, the moment was gone. So many things still left unsaid. So many things that needed to be said.

He’d opened his mouth a million times to apologize, to tell her he still loved her—to beg her to love him back. To say what he should have said four years ago, to do something beyond allowing the words to fade away.

But he missed the moment, too afraid that he wasn’t worth the risk. Too afraid that the cruelty of the universe would catch up to them again and ruin everything good between them.

So rather than seize the moment, he let it pass and held on to the brief seconds when she was in his arms.

The anger was still there boiling beneath the surface, but it was being pacified by the feel of her in his arms, by the words she said.

He wanted to believe her.

That he would have been a good father, that it wasn’t his fault, but the thing about truth is it doesn’t change your opinion of yourself when all you ever see when you look in the mirror is the lie.

Her fingers slid against his wet arms, and then her palms pressed against his cheeks. Water slid down her lips.

And those empty eyes locked on his in a way that he didn’t deserve.

He’d always felt more with her. The faith she’d always put in him was staggering.

Whole. Things felt whole in her arms.





Chapter Twenty-Two



The last thing Nikki wanted was another walk of shame through Brant’s hotel room and onto the elevator. She hadn’t thought of anything except Brant.

And the fact that neither of them were yelling.