Apollo (Cerberus MC)

I wish I could say that I’m overcome with awkwardness when he pulls me to his chest, but all I feel is comfort. I know I’m safe in his arms. I know he’s a good man. He has to be to agree with what I’m asking.

Chapter 4

Apollo

This woman is breaking my damn heart.

Don’t hit me.

What the actual fuck?

I’ll keep the promise I just made to her. Hell, I’m fighting the urge to go back to California and put all the men who have hurt her in shallow graves. No, fuck that. The bastards don’t even deserve a crude burial. Gasoline and bonfire, their bodies on pyres seems more appropriate.

“We have to go out and tell everyone,” I remind her as I release her and step away.

I feel like a complete asshole for taking liberties and pulling her to my chest, but honestly, I’d wrap myself all the way around her in an attempt to comfort and protect her.

She wipes at her eyes, the redness not something we’ll be able to hide from the others.

“You’re all splotchy,” I say, indicating her pretty face.

“I’m sorry.” She sniffles.

“Don’t apologize.”

“If anyone asks, I’ll tell them I’ve been crying happy tears.” She gives me a smile so bright, if I weren’t privy to our previous conversation, I’d believe it was true.

How many times has this woman had to smile through her pain?

Why do I have this almost instinctual need to make sure every smile from here on out is genuine?

Jesus, when I commit to something, it doesn’t take me much to go all-in.

“When will we get married?” she asks, using the bottom hem of her shirt to blot at her face.

I don’t answer immediately, the sight of her little bump encased in milky skin making me speechless.

She looks up at me, immediately dropping her shirt, and I can tell she feels like she has been immodest. I turn away from her, looking at my watch for a much-needed distraction. I want to kiss her there, whisper sweet words to the baby encased in her womb, but that’s not what this is. We’re playing pretend, taking it several steps farther than Reagan and Jinx ever thought of doing.

My good friend kissed a woman in a grocery store to help her avoid an ex. A while later, he pretended to be married to her. Granted, they fell in love and are now planning a real wedding, but that’s not what this is. I hate that it’s only been about a half of an hour that we’ve been in here discussing this, and I’m already allowing myself to believe the lies.

“Today,” I tell her.

“Today?” She sounds completely surprised.

“Yep.” I clasp her hand, hating that I love the feel of it in mine so much, and I lead her out of the room.

Of course the living area is fuller than it was not long ago. Sophia and Colton are here, and they don’t even live on the property. Max and Tug are also watching from the far side of the room. They were already here, but their woman, Jasmine, is a new addition. She wraps her lips around a straw, her eyes focusing on her drink, but I know every ounce of her attention is focused on us.

Whatever conversation that was going on while we were gone comes to a screeching halt when we show back up at the mouth of the hallway. April’s hand flexes in mine, and I have to smile because she’s gripping me tighter, not trying to pull away.

“Everyone,” I say, as if I actually need to get their attention rather than already having it. “I’d like you to meet April Gibson. My fiancée.”

Forget being able to hear a pin drop in this place. I’m certain I just heard a butterfly flap its wings a mile down the road.

I expected a little more of a reaction than stunned silence. Thumper punching me in the jaw again would be more reasonable. This group isn’t known for holding back their opinions.

“We’re having a baby,” I say with genuine enthusiasm.

Several of the girls squeal in delight, but Cara isn’t one of them. I look down at April, giving her a grin and winking at her for good measure. Her cheeks are flaming, and it makes me wonder if she’s starting to second-guess her request. I’d never force the woman to marry me, but I also can’t say I haven’t fully wrapped myself around the idea of it either.

“We love babies around here!” Delilah says, her own pregnant belly leading the way across the room. “I’m Delilah. I only have a few weeks left. When are you due?”

“Beginning of December,” April says with an oomph when Delilah wraps her in a hug.

I look around the room, noticing looks of disbelief on several of the guys’ faces. Thumper isn’t smiling. He looks like he’s on the verge of rearranging my face. Legend, the guy I’m closest to in the club, just shakes his head like I’ve lost my mind.