Bred By My Mom's Dead Husband(6)

Weeks have passed since that day in my step father’s bedroom. Weeks of stolen touches, whispered promises, and nights tangled in sheets that still smell like him.

I have been waiting for this moment.

The bathroom tile is cold against my bare feet. I sit on the edge of the tub, holding the plastic stick in my hand. Two pink lines stare back at me.

Pregnant.

My heart slams against my ribs. Tears prick my eyes, hot and sudden. I press the stick to my chest, breathing hard. A baby, his baby, our baby.

I slip the test into the pocket of my robe and walk downstairs. Ethan is in the kitchen, sleeves rolled up, making coffee the way he always does. Strong, black, just a little sugar. The morning light catches the silver in his hair, the broad line of his shoulders. He turns when he hears me, smiling that soft smile that still makes my stomach flip.

“Morning, beautiful,” he says.

I do not speak. I just walk to him, take his hand, and press the test into his palm.

He looks down. His breath catches.

For a second, the kitchen is completely silent except for the drip of the coffee maker.

Then he looks at me. His eyes are wet. “Lily…”

I nod, smiling through my own tears. “We did it.”

He pulls me into his arms so fast I stumble. He buries his face in my hair, holding me tight. I feel his heart racing against mine. “A baby,” he whispers. “Our baby.”

We stand like that for a long time, wrapped around each other in the middle of the kitchen. His hand slid down to rest on my still-flat stomach and it felt protective and possessive.

“We have to leave,” he says quietly. “We cannot stay here. People will talk and they will figure it out.”

I nod against his chest. We have already talked about this. About the whispers that would start, the questions and how impossible it would be to raise a child here without the truth coming out.

“I know where we should go,” I say.

He pulls back just enough to look at me. “Where?”

“Paris.”

His eyes soften. “Your dream city.”

I smile. “I want our baby to grow up there. To walk along the Seine, to eat croissants in little cafes, to speak French before English and to have a life that is beautiful and free.”

He kisses me slow and deep, like he is sealing a promise. “Then Paris it is.”

We start planning that same day.

Packing happens quietly. We sell the house through a private broker. We transfer money to new accounts. We buy tickets under new names. We tell no one. Not even Claire.

When the day comes, we leave before dawn. The airport is quiet. We board the plane hand in hand. I rest my head on his shoulder the entire flight, his arm around me, his hand resting protectively on my stomach.

Paris welcomes us with soft rain and golden light.

We rented a large apartment in the Marais. I totally forgot that my step daddy, sorry…my husband,was a wealthy man. Months pass. My belly grows round. Ethan never stops touching it, he never stops kissing it and he never stops whispering to our baby about how loved he or she already is.

One evening we walk along the Seine at sunset. The water is pink and gold. Tourists take photos and street musicians play soft accordion music. Ethan’s arm is around my waist, hand splayed over the curve of my belly. I rest my hand over his, feeling the baby kick gently under our palms.

I look up at him. He is watching me with that same soft, reverent look he has had since the day I showed him the test.

I smile happily.

I did it. I got the man I love. I carried his child and now we are here, in Paris, building the life I always dreamed of. Our child will grow up unaware of the secrets we left behind.

Ethan leans down and kisses me softly. “You okay?”

I nod, tears in my eyes. “More than okay. I’m perfect.”

He smiles. “We’re perfect.”

I rest my head against his shoulder, watching the sun set over the city of lights.

Ethan walked back inside to pour us some wine. I smiled to myself again. Look at what I did.

I took the man who was supposed to be off-limits. I made him mine when everyone said he belonged to someone else. I spiked Aunt Claire’s food, ran her out, and claimed what was rightfully mine. Now we’re here in Paris which happens to be my dream city and we are living a life no one back home could ever imagine.

The money from the house sale? All mine. The freedom? Mine. The dick that used to belong to my mother? Completely and irrevocably mine.

I got it all.

I glance back through the open door. Ethan looks up, smiling that soft smile that still makes my heart stutter. He has no idea how ruthless I was to get here, he had no idea I’d burn the world down to keep him and that’s exactly how it should be.

I turn back to the city, hand on my belly, and whisper to myself,

“Bad bitch achievement unlocked. The money, the man, the baby… all mine.”

What a fucking win.