Apollo (Cerberus MC)

“I’ve never been in love. Never expected to fall in love. I’m not going to back down from this on the prospect that it could happen eventually, because there’s a greater chance that it never would.”

I clamp my mouth shut before I use my extensive experience sexually to try to convince her that love and I just aren’t a likely pair. I don’t think she’d appreciate that knowledge, even if she has no plans to get under me herself.

“I don’t want to prevent you from experiencing everything in life, Nate.”

“You won’t,” I promise. “But if you’re having second thoughts, then maybe we need to take a step back from this and wait.”

She shakes her head, the action immediate. “I don’t want to wait. It may be selfish, and all of this may blow up in our faces, but if you’re willing to go through with it on Monday, then that’s what I want.”

I give her a small smile. “Then it looks like we’re getting married.”

Chapter 9

April

I smile again, the only contribution to the conversation going on around me that I’ve been able to manage since I showered, got dressed, and left the room with Nate.

I’ve been welcomed with what most people would consider open arms, but rather than feeling like I belong, I feel like I’m completely lost. Introductions to everyone when I came out, cheeks red, wondering what everyone thinks Nate and I did alone in his room, were as fast as lightning. I couldn’t possibly be able to remember everyone if I tried. My head is a muddled mess right now.

Since I don’t want to disrespect anyone by calling them the wrong name, I just sit silently on the sofa, listening to conversations going on around me and wondering if I’ve been here long enough to say I’m tired and escape for a nap.

“What do you think, April?”

“I… umm… sorry?” I look to Delilah, the only one I can remember because of our interaction yesterday, for help.

“Rivet was asking you how many children you want to have.” God bless her. She must sense how overwhelming this is for me.

Her hands rub her very large belly, and it makes my fingers itch to do the same, but I’ve been studiously avoiding touching it. I don’t want to draw any more attention to my situation than I already have by showing up here in the first place.

“I don’t know. I just want to deal with this one first.” Female chuckles fill the air around me. “What about you, Rivet? How many children do you want?”

“None,” she says matter-of-factly.

None of the pregnant women surrounding me argue with her. No one speaks up to tell her that it’s unconscionable that a fertile woman wouldn’t be willing to bear children.

I stare at her as if I’m seeing a unicorn before me. “None?”

She shakes her head. “Cannon and I are happy to spoil all the other babies. I love kids. I just can’t see myself being a mom.”

“I’m not planning to have kids either,” another woman speaks up.

“Camryn is with Samson,” Delilah explains.

I nod my head as if I have a clue who Samson is.

“You look overwhelmed,” Delilah says. “You’ll know everyone soon. It’s going to be the same people around here all the time. It’s rare that people who aren’t directly connected to the club show up.”

I know she doesn’t mean it as a jab, but it still feels like one. I infiltrated their little bubble, showing up pregnant and hopeful.

I look across the room as the conversation continues, the women who don’t want children having as much input into the topic of babies as those either with kids or currently pregnant.

Nate is talking with the man I now know to be his boss, Kincaid. Nate’s mouth moves, the conversation never faltering, but his eyes are locked in my direction. I don’t get the feeling that I’m the topic of their conversation, but just that he’s making sure I know he’s there. It’s the warmth of that attention that has kept me locked in place. If he weren’t just right across the room, I don’t think I’d last as long in the middle of this group of women.

Like they have every other time we’ve made eye contact today, my cheeks heat. I sense something more than just checking on my well-being in his gaze, but I’ve been so wrong before that I no longer trust my instincts. Maybe I’m seeing or feeling what I want to see or feel, not really what’s going on.

“He absolutely adores you,” the woman directly beside me whispers in my ear as the conversation continues with the other women.

I smile, the appropriate response for a woman about to marry the man of her dreams.

They may know that he isn’t the father, but it wouldn’t be far-fetched for them to believe we have a connection. They may not be convinced we’re head over heels in love, but maybe letting my attraction to him show through will make it easier for everyone else to stomach what we’re actually doing.