Mr Garcia

“Where are our seats?” Sebastian whispers, passing me a champagne from a passing tray.

“What’s wrong, darling?” I whisper, taking a sip. “Tired of holding my hand?”

His angry eyes flick over to me. “I am, actually.”

I glare at him, our eyes locked. “Please, don’t act happy on my behalf.”

“Wouldn’t be the first time I’ve acted happy now, would it?”

Adrenaline begins to pump through my system. I lean over to him and put my mouth to his ear. “Keep being an asshole, Sebastian, and this drink is going over your head. I don’t give a flying fuck where we are.”

He narrows his eyes. “Try it and see what happens to you. I dare you.”

I see red. Game on.

“Garcia!” someone calls, interrupting my impending explosion.

“Morton.” Sebastian nods and they shake hands. “This is my wife April.”

I fake a smile. “Hello.” I shake Morton’s hand.

“Congratulations on your marriage. Sebastian talks so fondly of you.” The man smiles.

My eyes flicker to Sebastian. “I’m sure he does.”

Fury blazes in Sebastian’s eyes, and I know for certain that we need to get away from each other before I lose my shit and really do tip my drink over the Prime Minister’s head.

Fucker.

I step back and glance over to see Jeremy who waves.

“I see someone I know. Will you excuse me, please?” I ask the two of them.

“Of course.” Sebastian smiles sweetly. “Please, do take your time.”

I grit my teeth. God help me. “Thank you… sweetheart. You’re always so thoughtful.”

He glares at me, and I glare right back.

I make my way over to Jeremy and kiss his cheek. “You look ravishing.” He coos.

“Thank you. You, too.” I sip my champagne. “I’m about to punch Sebastian in the nose,” I whisper.

“Excellent,” he replies without missing a beat. He glances over to him. “I take it you still aren’t talking.”

“He’s being a prick.”

He shrugs. “Well… he is Sebastian Garcia. What do you expect?”

I roll my eyes. He has the reputation of being an asshole. Tonight, I see why.

Loud and clear.

Four hours later, I glance over at Sebastian sitting beside me in the back of the car. We are on our way home. Sebastian is staring out the window, a million miles away.

We haven’t spoken all night, and the ridiculous part is that we aren’t even fighting over the major issue at hand.

The baby.

I’m confused. I don’t know what’s happening, and I feel like things are unravelling between us at the speed of light.

Both of us are slipping into old habits. Him, silent and bitter. Me, expecting more,

itching to fight.

I hate this.

He drags his hand through his hair. He looks so sad, my heart bleeds. Unable to help it, I reach over and take his hand in his lap. He closes his fingers around it.

“You know that I love you,” I whisper.

He nods softly, remaining silent. His gaze stays out the window to the scenery passing by, and my heart constricts. That was my olive branch.

Nothing in return.

The car pulls up to a halt, and the door opens. Sebastian climbs out and takes my hand to help me out. We walk up the steps and open the front door.

He drops my hand and walks straight up to the bedroom. I hear the shower turn on.

I exhale heavily. God.

I make myself a cup of tea and try to figure out a plan of attack. I don’t want to get into a fight. We’re already at each other’s throat.

I hate this.

I hear the shower turn off. I wait ten minutes before I head into the bedroom, Sebastian is in bed and lying on his side with his back to me. I watch him for a moment before I head into the shower. I don’t know what’s going on in his head. I can only assume it’s not good.

Twenty minutes later, I climb in behind him. His anger has gone, replaced with sadness. Like a river, I can feel it oozing out of him. I slide over and cuddle his back. He stays motionless.

“Seb, darling, are you all right?” I whisper.

“I can’t do this.”

I frown. Do what?

“She can’t have my child, April.”

My eyes well with tears.

“I… I… I can’t hand my child over to her. I didn’t give her this baby. She took it.” His voice cracks, betraying his hurt.

I close my eyes.

Fuck.

What the hell is wrong with me, never once considering what this means for him if it is true? All I’ve been worried about is my selfish self.

I roll him over and take him into my arms to hold him, his head nestled into my neck.

He’s distraught, and rightfully so.

“It’s okay, baby,” I whisper as I hold him tight. “Whatever happens, we’ll deal with it together.” I kiss his temple, “I promise you. It will be okay.”

He stares straight ahead with a cold detachment, and I kiss his neck. I slide my hand lower. We haven’t made love for so long. Perhaps, if we did….