This Man Confessed(59)

I frantically stab at the button on the intercom, but after a few agonizing minutes, the gates still aren’t opening, so I dive into my bag and retrieve my phone to dial him. It rings once.

“Ava?”

“The gates won’t open!” I sound distressed and crazy, but I’m going out of my mind with the need to see him.

“Hey, calm down.” He sounds equally anxious. “Where are you?”

“I’m at the gates! I’ve been pressing the button, but no one’s opening them!”

“Ava, stop it. You’re worrying me.”

“I need you,” I say and sob, finally giving in to the overwhelming guilt that’s been looming deep inside of me for days. “Jesse, I need you.”

I can hear his labored breathing down the phone. He’s running. “Pull down the sun visor, baby.”

I look up through my tears and yank down the white leather, finding two small black devices. I don’t wait for his instruction. I press them both and the gates start to swing open. I throw my phone on the passenger seat and bang my foot down on the accelerator, immediately zooming forward. I’m crying hard now, painful, aching, heavy tears as I weave up the tree-lined driveway in a blur until I see Jesse’s Aston Martin come speeding from the other direction. I slam my brakes on and jump out, running at full pelt toward him.

He looks absolutely terrified as he flies from his car, leaving the door open, and sprints toward his crazy, hysterical wife. I can’t help it, I’m freaking him out, but this sudden clarity has sent me into a panic attack. I’ve lost control of my emotions. The cold-hearted bitch I’ve been is suddenly melting and letting me see things clearly.

Our bodies crash together, and I’m immediately engulfed by him, every hard muscle pushed up against me as I’m lifted and held tight to his body. I sob relentlessly into his neck as he paces around the driveway just holding me. I’m so stupid. I’m such a stupid, selfish, heartless cow.

“Jesus, Ava,” he says, panting into my neck.

“I’m sorry.” I still sound frantic, even now when I’m in his arms.

“What’s happened?”

“Nothing. I just needed to see you.” I grip him tighter. I can’t get him close enough.

“Fucking hell, Ava! Please, explain!” He tries to release me, but I firm up my already iron hold, refusing to let him put me down. “Ava?”

“Can we go home?”

“No! Not until you tell me why the fuck you’re in such a state,” he shouts, battling with my clutching arms. I’m no match for him. He soon detaches me from his body and stands me in front of him, scanning every square inch of my figure as he holds the tops of my arms. “What’s going on?”

“I’m pregnant.” I sob. “I lied to you. I’m sorry.”

He physically starts twitching and drops me, stepping back, his eyes wide, his frown line deep. “What?”

I brush my rolling tears away and drop my eyes to the floor. I feel so ashamed of myself. He’s no saint, but while he was trying to make life, I was thinking about destroying it.

“You make me so mad,” I whisper pitifully. “You make me mad and then you make me so happy. I didn’t know what to do.” It’s a feeble and pathetic excuse.

When a few silent moments have passed, and he still hasn’t spoken, I chance a glance at him. He looks in shock.

“Fuck! Ava, are you trying to get me sectioned?” His hands delve into his hair, and he looks up to the sky. “Are you fucking with my mind because I really don’t need this, lady. I’ve just got my head around you not being pregnant, and now you are?”

“I always have been.”

His head drops and so do his hands. They just dangle by his sides as he studies me closely, a disbelieving look on his face. “When were you going to tell me?”

“I don’t know. When I accepted it myself.” Maybe I was trying to make the most of dominant Jesse before he started treating me like glass again. I don’t even know. I’ve been so stupid.

“We’re having a baby?” He barely whispers the words. I nod my confirmation, and his eyes fall from mine to my stomach, lingering for a while. Then I see a tear trickle down his cheek. It enflames the guilt further, but when he drops to his knees, I lose complete control of my own weeping. I’m just standing and crying, watching his slumped body silently shedding tears in front of me. My natural response to my beautiful, neurotic man’s reaction is to walk straight to him and join him on the floor. My arms creep over his shoulders and hold him tight to me as he sobs into my neck, his hands drifting all over my back, like he’s checking that I’m really here.