(Serena)I can’t even with him right now. Sometimes, he’s such a dick. Anyway, there’s only one thing at the top of my mind.I said the words out loud. I’m pregnant. Even with Margot’s threat hanging over me.In some way I guess I hoped he’d wake up and say he heard me after all. Just getting the words out into the universe made me feel better.Gave me time to breathe, to think.In a week’s time, I will be at the same stage of pregnancy I was when I lost our first baby. A baby boy. In my mind, he was James Jnr. I would’ve called him James.Shouldn’t I wait this week out? What if I’m tempting fate?I can’t even be bothered tackling him about what he just said. I’m exhausted from arguing over things I can’t change.Lean into the Hale name. In other words, become like them. I know it’s an advantage because the name opens doors I could never have imagined before.But is that what I really want? How do I measure success? Once I was ecstatic and pinching myself just to get my first ord
(James)I roll it on, move over her again, letting my tongue find her tongue. Letting her forget the stupid condom means anything, letting her arousal rise again. I use my fingers to dip inside her and she’s so wet for me.Of course she is. It’s always like this with us.No matter how complicated the day has been…board meetings, press bullshit, her latest fixation on ‘doing it all herself”… we always end up here. Just the two of us, stripped down to skin and instinct.This is where everything makes sense.I circle her swollen bud slowly just how she likes it. She gasps in and arches. I continue, getting faster, adding more pressure. I know she’s getting close…I can tell by the sounds she makes, the way her body makes those tiny jerks.She’s a storm beneath me. Independent Serena Hale unraveling under my fingers. Of course she is. Everyone does eventually. I always find a way in, to get what I need from them. The whole world is a business deal; it just has to be packaged right.Sh
(James)She’s still here.That’s the first thought that hits me when I wake up and feel the weight of her in bed beside me.Curled toward the edge, her back to me, but not gone. No packed bag. No note. No deafening silence screaming goodbye. I know she’s considered leaving lately. I know that there’s been some crazy stuff happening.But I think we’re good now. Serena is here and she’s starting to understand what it is I need from her. To be my wife. To live in my world without bleeding out emotionally on a daily basis.I knew this would happen, I knew how hard it would be for her. This is exactly why I walked away before. I loved her, yes, but I didn’t want all of this pressure on her. It’s not easy to deal with. You have to have titanium skin.Savannah being back complicates things, sure… but I can’t have Serena being insecure to the point that it causes that destruction outside this room. Yet I do get it. All these gifts that weren’t chosen with Serena in mind.It’s fucked up. Bu
(Serena)The sound of the shower wakes me.I must have crashed out. The memory of my rampage hits me. Oh god, he’ll think I’m loco.I see his jacket draped over the armchair, his shoes by the ensuite door, and the ache in my chest shifts just a little. He’s home. It’s nearly daylight from the fact that I forgot to close the drapes, but he’s home.He comes out in a towel, hair wet, eyes bloodshot and exhausted. “Hey,” he says, his voice raw. “You know, burning stuff is a lot less messy.”“I’m sorry. I kinda let loose. I’m so angry over it all.”“I get it. And I don’t blame you. I just wish I was here to join in.” He gives a smile, but I can see his exhaustion.“You okay?” I ask.He nods, pulling on a t-shirt and boxers. “They’re keeping her in for a few days. To monitor her blood pressure spikes. But for now, false alarm again.”“She’s okay?” I have to ask. I might hate her but I want her and her baby to be okay.“Yeah.” He sits on the edge of the bed, scrubs a hand down his face. “I’m
(Serena)And then my eyes lock on the ornate silver tray we were given as a “Hale family heirloom.”It sits almost smugly on the hallway credenza like a trophy.I grab it and I hurl it against the wall. The crash rings out through the silence like an alarm. Like it’s accusing me of letting this happen.I am guilty. Of pretending. Of trying too hard. Of losing myself.I don't stop breaking things. I can’t. Because if I stop, I’ll think. And if I think, I’ll break in a way I won’t come back from.I move to the sitting room next.The ridiculous Baccarat vase we got from the Abernathys, James' father's friends, sits on the hall table. It’s ugly. Tall and hollow and full of nothing.Perfect metaphor.I smash it on the hardwood floor and a dark thrill races through me at the sound of it shattering. Something about seeing that perfect, now in irreparable pieces feels like honesty for once.Then the Waterford crystal decanter set, gifted by some European countess I’ll never even meet.One by
(Serena)And what if we lose this one too?God, I don’t know if I can survive that again. I don’t know if we can.Margot made it clear the only reason I was ever tolerated was because I was the one carrying the heir. After I lost the baby, she iced me out like I was defective merchandise. Like I’d failed at my one job.Now I’m not allowed to have that job again. She wants Savannah back and me gone.I shouldn’t think like this, but I can’t help but feel that I have one clear advantage here.Savannah’s baby isn’t James’.Mine is.I’m not Margot. I’m not Savannah. I don’t belong in cocktail dresses and curated smiles. I belong in the kitchen, apron on, hands in dough, sweat on my brow and joy in my heart.He said this would happen. That his world would do that to me. But even he can’t think his mother would stoop so low to threaten any child of his.Even if I become the Stepford Wife they want me to be. Margot will still want Savannah and Savannah will always want James. I will never