71. Chapter Seventy-One

Millions of moments make up your life, but when you reach the end, there are only some that stick with you. Some that run through your mind in those very last moments. Most of them you aren't even sure why. Who decides what flashes before your eyes in dire situations? Your subconscious? Is it random?

The time I spilled a glass of strawberry milk on the counter when I was five. I'd felt so bad because Jeanette was getting over being sick and I didn't want her to clean it, so I did. My father scolded me for it. Said it was Jeanette's job. I didn't know why then, but I felt bad for that. I wanted to help her, the same way I helped my father, but he didn't let me. So, I left it there for her to clean, even though deep down I knew I shouldn't have. Why does that flash through my head?

Of course, there's the obvious stuff. Like when I learned how to ride a bike. When I went ice skating for the first time. Skiing for the first time. When Dad brought me to Paris. When I met Zach. When we got engaged. The smile on my father's face when he explained how badly he wanted me to have babies with Zach.

The night at the club.

The look on Enzo's face when Rafael read off my limits.

When I saw him sitting in Harriet's with my father.

When he carried me out of my house butt ass naked.

When Rafael, Enzo, and I had dinner for the first time at his house.

When Enzo and I had sex for the first time.

My stuffed animal.

Finding out I'm pregnant.

And more. So much more.

The last two months play out in my head like a movie.

Clip after clip after clip.

Enzo's gorgeous brown eyes and dark hair. His stern and broody look.

Rafael's golden hair, bright green eyes. Boyish smile and chipper demeanor.

The little black and white photos of my babies.

Our babies.

Maybe they're so fresh in my mind because they're new, or maybe it's because they hold meaning in my life. Something important. More important than spilling milk.

They are important. Enzo is important. Enzo is my life. These babies are my life. Rafael is my life.

The last moments when I think my life is going to end, there are flashes of these points in my life I remember. Quick flashes, but it's those memories and visions of Enzo, Rafael, my little baby beans that have my chest hurting, thinking I'd never see them again. That my babies would never be able to meet their fathers. They'd never breathe the air or feel the sunlight on their skin. They'd never taste the salt of the ocean or dig their little toes in the sand. They'll never get to fight or love or learn.

And that's why I have to lie.

I have to lie for them.

I don't like lying. I've never been good at it. But I have to do it because if I don't, everything that just went through my head is all I will ever have. There will never be anything more. Just memories.

"He's right. Zachary is right. I'm not safe with you."

The words hold no meaning as I say them. I just say them. Speak them as if I'm reading them from a book.

The way Enzo's face falls is enough to bring me to my knees, and it's a good thing Zachary is holding me up. My husband is devastated. Heartbroken. Fucking destroyed. I can't bear to look at him. So I don't. I turn in Zachary's arms, hold my breath, and pretend it's Enzo. I know it isn't. Everything is wrong. Everything about Zachary is wrong, but I do it because I'm hoping like hell this will distract Zachary enough that Enzo can figure this out.

Zachary nuzzles his face in my neck, and I want to throw up.

I love it when Enzo does that. I hate it when Zachary does. He always did, and it never meant anything. I forgot he did until just now.

I already knew I loved Enzo. I already told him I loved him. But now, right now, I know for a fact I am truly in love with that man. I will do anything to make sure I live a life with him, Rafael, and our babies.

The shot goes off. I don't flinch. It's loud. I can't tell where it came from or who did it. Not until Zach's body goes limp, his full weight on me, and I feel myself falling. Panic hits my chest as I think about him falling on top of me. On top of my stomach. On top of my babies. But I don't fall. Because Enzo is there, catching me and pulling me into his arms.

"I've got you, angel. I've got you," he whispers. "I know you didn't mean it. I know you didn't."

"I didn't," I cry, turning in his arms and clawing at his shirt, trying to bury myself in his damn chest. I don't ever want to leave. "I didn't, I swear. I love you. I'm sorry. I didn't know what else to do."

"I know. Angel, I know. It's okay." He holds me tighter, running his hand down my hair. "Shh, it's over now. It's all over."

He holds me tight. Kissing my cheeks. Kissing my head. Hugging me. Whispering it's going to be okay.

"Please tell me Rafael is okay," I beg. "Please."

"He's fine. He's waiting for you at home."

I cry harder. So hard I can't breathe. My body is shaking. I'm cold but hot. I'm sweaty. I'm going to throw up again.

I'm lifted off my feet, and the hot, dry air hits my skin.

I don't remember anything after that.