A Million Different Ways to Lose You (Horn Duet 2)

Closing the distance between us swiftly, he pulled me onto his lap and crushed me to him. I threw my legs over his, straddling him. Only then did I realize how violently I was shaking. As always Sebastian seemed to know what I needed before I did. He cocooned me in comfort, curving his much larger body around my lesser one. I pressed my face into his throat––and buried my shame along with it. A river of tears slid down my temple and blended with the drops of water on his damp skin. “What if…my body rejected the baby because I didn’t want him?” I forced out between hiccups and sobs. Since that day in the grocery store, while I was on the run, that little boy’s face, with his large amber eyes and dark hair, had been haunting me. Would our child have looked similar? I couldn’t scrub the image from my memory.

“You know better than to say stupid shit like that.” A large hand rubbed slowly up and down my back, lending me the strength to confess everything.

“And now I do want him…I did this. I did this to us,” I spewed, my voice breaking as the emotion wrapped its fingers around my throat and squeezed.

“Shhhhh. It’s not your fault.” Holding me even closer, he murmured words of love and encouragement in my ear. “We can try again as soon as you’re ready,” he added in the end.

That made me cry even harder.

“I need you to forgive me––I can’t lose you. I can’t.”

“There’s nothing to forgive,” he practically growled. “It pisses me off that you…” His words stopped short, his frustration palpable. Grabbing my shoulders, he shook me. “Fuck, Vera, you’re everything to me. I’m in it for the long haul and you as sure as fuck better be, too.”

In the midst of all the pain and suffering, he made me laugh, this complicated, wonderful man who gave everything and asked for nothing in return. He wiped my reddened, swollen face of the leftover tears running down my cheeks.

“Don’t I get a choice?” I said, giggling.

His head cocked slightly. He studied me thoughtfully. “From the moment we met, neither one of us had a choice.”

My expression sobered. “You really believe that?”

“No,” he answered. How could one small word hurt so much? Until he added, “I know it.” Absolute certainty resonated in his voice. “You’re mine forever and that’s the end of it.”

Biting my lip, I asked the question that was burning a hole in my gut. “Do you want children?”

I didn’t think his eyes could get any softer, but he proved me wrong. “I want us. I want them with you.” His arms tightened around me until there was less than zero space between us. Chest to chest, I felt the heavy thumping of his heart next to mine. I knew then that together we would get through this. We would be okay…no matter what.

The din woke me. Drifting up from the ground floor, a collection of voices entered through the front door, the ancient stone walls amplifying every sound. “What time is it?” I groggily asked Sebastian while he quickly shoved on a pair of sweatpants. He planted a tender kiss on my lips, and was half way to the door when he answered, “Four. Go back to sleep.”

There was no way that was happening. I grabbed a pair of leggings, a long sleeved top, and dressed in a hurry. Down the marble steps, I followed the breadcrumb trail of voices into the den, a room seldom used. It had a decadent, masculine feel to it. Large, comfortable couches in midnight blue velvet and heavy silk drapes with a faint fleur de lis pattern complemented the ornate, antique billiard table that sat in the middle. The vaulted ceiling was decorated with plasterwork worthy of a fourteenth century church. It was definitely one of the more grand rooms in the house, and I suspected that had something to do with Sebastian’s father.

I pushed open the walnut double doors and scanned the area, taking note of who was present. Everyone fell silent as I entered. Ben and his men––Justin, Bear, and two others whose names escaped me––lounged back on the couches. Some with beers in hand, some loading bullets into the clips of their guns.

Hmmm, interesting combination, that.

Gideon and Sebastian studied the screen of an open laptop resting on the pool table. Shay stood at the bar with her back to me. Dressed casually, casual for her that is, in dark designer jeans and a deep purple silk shirt, she was busy filling a cut crystal tumbler with liquor. At the silence, she glanced over her shoulder and our eyes met, hers widening. That’s when I noticed the worn-out look on her face, and how disheveled her shoulder length auburn hair was.