The Billionaire’s Baby(11)

I needed to know what was going on between us, if anything.

Taking a deep breath, I held it in my lungs for as long as I could, feeling the way my chest expanded, grounding me. The breath whooshed out noisily as I bit my lip, gave myself a firm nod, and gently turned the knob on the door.

It was only as it began to push open that I realized it would have been more polite to knock.

Sebastian sat in his bed, shirtless and tired, only the single lamp on at his bedside. He glanced towards me, did a double take and straightened up fast, slamming the book cover down on his table.

"Hi." I whispered shyly, lingering in the doorway, "...is it okay?"

"It's always okay." The sexy man replied quickly, swinging his legs out from underneath the covers of the bed as he patted the space beside him, "What's going on?"

His deep ocean colored eyes followed me, dark brow creased in concern. His gaze shifted towards my belly then back up to my face.

"Oh, it's not that. Everything’s good." I said back, giving an uneasy laugh and hesitantly settling onto the bed a good arm’s length away from him.

"Oh." The billionaire murmured simply, large, warm hands folding in his lap.

Was I just supposed to outright accuse him of being Alissa’s baby daddy? After my explosion this afternoon, I couldn't see that ending well.

"I was so worried last night." I decided instead, treading cautiously into the conversation, "You didn't come back to the room, and I waited for you."

"I’m truly sorry for that, Macy." He sighed, closing the distance between us as he scooted across the bed towards me, “It was never my intention to make you worry. I needed a bit of time to clear my head and take a breath.”

Closer now, though still not touching, I could smell the faint lemongrass scent of his body wash. His hair was still damp from the shower he'd taken not too long before.

I cleared my throat, trying to push away thoughts of his naked body in the shower. A body that I'd longed to touch for months. Even if we never spent another night together I would never forget what he felt like beneath my palms, or what his lips felt like against mine.

"Are you sure you’re alright?" He asked, pressing a hand to my forehead, "You look flushed."

'Oh sure, just imagining you naked.' I mentally quipped.

"I'm really fine. Just a little tired." I responded instead.

I could tell that I was not going to be able to broach the conversation tonight. I just couldn't.

For all of my determination to have a real, true conversation for once, here I was chickening out yet again. Why was it so difficult to speak to him as a partner, as my husband? Between the concerned frown on his lips and the way his ocean eyes swirled like a sea storm, I just melted. It wasn’t fair.

"Don't do that again." I murmured, turning my gaze to his, "Don't just run away from me I…I’m your wife, Sebastian."

He looked at me, fully this time, and it felt to me as though he hadn't truly looked at me since he found out about the baby.

What were his reservations? What held him back so rigidly? He'd been there that night three months past, he'd help create the tiny person growing in me. Why did he act as though I'd done something worthy of betrayal?

Why was he always running?

His lips parted, tongue seeking the words that he so clearly struggled to find. His hand instinctively lurched forward, sweeping the curve of my chin as his smooth palm pressed into my cheek. I leaned against his warm support, my own hand curling against the backs of his fingers.

Even with this connection, this touch, our bodies so close, I could feel that invisible wall up high around my husband.

Both of us stood on either sides, desperately wanting to reach each other and leap into each other's arms, but completely unknowing of how.

If only it were easy.

"You should go." He finally spoke, his voice pained, "You should rest. For the baby."

"Sure." I responded, his hand sliding away from my fingertips, resting helplessly in his lap.

I sat there for a moment longer before standing, turning my back on my husband and walking towards the door.

Even still I lingered, wishing against hope that he would ask me to stay.

When his voice did not ring out, I slid into the hall and closed the door behind me.

I do not remember the walk back to my room. I do not remember carefully changing out of my clothes and into my pajamas or brushing my teeth or washing my face.

What I do remember, is lying awake in my bed, staring at the moon's illumination on my ceiling, as no tears fell down my cheeks.

I had no more left to cry.

When I woke up the next day, Sebastian was already gone. An early morning plane flight had stolen him back overseas yet again. I wasn’t even surprised when I got the news.