73. Chapter Seventy-Three

"It's been two weeks," I say.

"I know," Rafael says, shoving a meatball in his mouth.

I sigh as I stare down at my plate, still not hungry.

"Jordan, please eat," he says, sounding exasperated.

"I'm not hungry."

"And I understand that, but you need to eat. It isn't just for you."

I stab a meatball and take a bite. Not for me, but for my babies. Rafael learned quickly the only way to get me to do things is to say it's for them, and not for me.

Enzo is gone. He left me. Left us, I guess.

He was so worried about me leaving this entire time, but it's him who left me. I don't know if he's alive. Don't know a damn thing. He and both his ass-kissers haven't been here since I was brought back. Sure, the other guys are here, but when I grill them, shout at them for answers, even threaten to put rat poison in their coffee, they tell me they don't know anything.

And maybe that's true. Enzo probably hasn't said anything, knowing I'd do whatever it took to get the info out of them.

"How are you not upset?" I ask.

Rafael drops his fork to the table with a clatter. "Please, stop asking me that."

"Well, I want to know," I argue. "Just tell me so I can do it too. I don't want to feel like this."

"I feel very similar to the way you do, Jordan. Enzo and I had a different relationship, but I still care about him. I'm worried about him too. Mostly for you and the babies. But trust me, I'm not okay over here, so stop thinking I am."

I hold his gaze for a long time, before pulling it away and going back to my food. I eat only half of it, but Rafael is satisfied when he sees my plate.

"Let's go watch a movie," he says as we walk out of the kitchen.

I groan. "I'm tired of watching movies."

"Then let's play a board game."

"No."

"Jordan—"

I come to a stop. Rafael does too.

"I don't want to do anything, Rafael! I just want to—"

He storms toward me, getting right in my face.

"To what, Jordan? So help me, if you say what I think you're going to say—"

"What, Rafael? What are you going to do?"

He grits his teeth, looking at me like he's about to lay into me. But he sighs, and his face softens. He wraps me in his arms, pulling me to him.

"I miss him too, okay? But I'm here." The first tear falls. Then the second. "Whatever you need, take it from me. I'm here, Jordan, and I'm not going anywhere."

"I miss him so much," I cry. "I just miss him."

"I know you do, baby. I know," he whispers. "I'm so sorry he's not here. Tell me what you need."

I shake my head. I have no idea what I need other than Enzo, and that's the problem.

A week later, there's someone at the door. I can't imagine who it would be, and my curiosity has me getting up and looking. When I make my way to the parlor, Dr. White is walking in.

"What are you doing here?" I ask.

"I'm here for you check up. Didn't Enzo tell you?"

Footsteps on the stairs have me looking up, hopeful. But it's Rafael walking down.

"Enzo hasn't been here," he says with a shake of his head.

Dr. White nods. "He did mention he may not be here when I got here but said to perform the check-up anyway."

Rafael reaches my side, placing a hand on my lower back.

"This is non-negotiable," he says to me softly.

I sigh, and we turn and head to the medical room.

I hop up on the table, and Dr. White does his thing. Checks my vitals. Listens to the heartbeat again, only this time he moves around to get both of them.

"They're very good. Still hanging around the 140s, which is perfect."

I smile, trying to be happy about this, and part of me is. Deep down, buried under all the depression, is happiness for my babies. I'm literally creating life.

"How have you been feeling?" he asks.

"Fine," I say quickly.

"Things have been difficult," Rafael adds. I shoot him a glare, but he ignores it. "Jordan has been stressed."

Dr. White nods. "Stress isn't good for the babies. Especially twins." He glances at Rafael, to me, and when he speaks next, the look on his face tells me he isn't sure if he should be saying what he says. "I know this type of lifestyle isn't easy, so do what you can to relax, okay?"

"Do you have any suggestions?" Rafael asks. "I think she's bored with watching tv and playing Monopoly."

Dr. White huffs out a laugh.

"Of course." He stands to gather his things, putting them all in his bag. "Massages, but not deep tissue. Meditating. Light exercise. Music. Yoga. Baths are okay. Warm, not hot. And sex."

I perk up at that. Hadn't really thought about that because—well, because Enzo and I agreed we wouldn't.

But Enzo isn't here.

"Thank you," Rafael says. "I'll keep that in mind." He moves to me, helping me off the table so we can see Dr. White out. Once he's gone, I turn to Rafael.

"Have sex with me."

"What? No." He frowns.

"Why not?"

"I'm not having sex with you to get back at Enzo."

I narrow my eyes at him, wondering how the hell he knew that's what my game was.

"Come on, you're a guy. What do you care?"

He scoffs. "Don't be like that, Jordan. You're not a vindictive person. And neither am I."

"The doctor said it'll help me relax."

"Yeah, until we're done, and you feel guilty for doing something you know your husband doesn't want you do to!" he argues.

I ignore the disappointed look he's giving me and keep going.

"If he didn't want me to fuck you, he shouldn't have left me here with you!" I scream. Rafael's face falls, sadness crossing his features. "I'm sorry," I say. "I'm sorry, I just…" A heavy sob leaves me, and I hurry for the stairs.

"Jordan, wait," Rafael says, moving after me. He grabs my arm and stops me halfway up the stairs. "I'm not mad at you. I get it, okay? This isn't the right thing to do. Not to get back at him."

"That wasn't the only reason," I admit with a shrug.

Rafael sighs, running a hand down his face. "I get it. It's hard to not have that connection. I understand. And maybe when I'm convinced it isn't to piss off Enzo, I'll be okay with it. For now, will you settle for a massage?"

I chew on my lip as I think it over. "I guess so."

He throws his arm around my shoulder, and we head into mine and Enzo's room. Rafael gives me the best foot massage I've ever had in my life, and when he massages my back and neck, I fall asleep.

Another week without knowing whether my husband is alive or dead.

It's getting harder instead of easier. Especially since Rafael seems to be at the same point as me now. He isn't keeping up his cheery positivity like he was before. He's running out of steam too. He lays with me in bed more than he ever has before, though maybe that's because we moved to his bed instead of mine and Enzo's. A few days ago, I told him it was hard lying in the bed that smells like Enzo. So he picked me up and carried me to his room. I haven't slept this well in a long time. But now, I don't want to leave. In fact, I don't go upstairs for anything anymore. Rafael brought me down some clothes, and that's that. I stay down here.

"I don't know how much more I can take," I admit quietly. It's late into the night. Completely dark in the room. I'm lying with my head on Rafael's chest. He's running his fingers up and down my arm.

"You have to take it all, Jordan. For the babies."

"But what about me?" My lip trembles when the words leave my lips, and I'm hit with a wave of guilt. "I know I need to worry about them, but don't I need to worry about me too? How can I help them if I'm nothing?"

Rafael sighs, pulling me closer. "What do you need?"

I shake my head. "I don't know."

Rafael shifts, rolling me to my back, and hovers over me. He kisses my neck.

"Will this help?" He thrusts against me, grinding his pelvis between my legs.

"I don't know," I admit, the words coming out breathless.

He kisses my neck again, dragging his nose down, and licking across my collarbone. I run my hands up his arms, over his back, and up his chest.

"Rafael?"

"Hm," he hums, kissing the other side of my neck.

"Don't do this because you feel bad for me."

"I'm doing this because I feel bad for me," he admits, and it hits me so hard it knocks the air out of me. He's hurting more than I thought.

I grab his face and kiss him, and my god, it feels so good to kiss him like this.

Over the last month, Rafael and I have cuddled more than I've ever cuddled with anyone before. There have been countless forehead kisses and cheek kisses. Hugs and embraces. But this? This is a line we didn't cross because we knew we shouldn't. But now, we're both feeling too damn bad for ourselves that we don't care.

Maybe it's wrong. But so is Enzo leaving us.

So I'm going to do what I need to survive for me and my babies, and I'm convinced if sex doesn't make me feel something, nothing will. And that's not good. But I need to know if I'm completely broken or not.

Rafael tugs my shorts down and I kick them off. He maneuvers his own off, and his warm, hard dick slides through my pussy lips, causing me to moan into his mouth.

He pulls his hips back and slides into me. He sighs a deep sound of relief when he's all the way, and he rests his forehead on mine.

"We're gonna be okay," he whispers.

He pulls out and thrusts back in, slow and deep. My body lights up, pleasure coursing through me, and I think he may be right. I wrap my legs around his waist, holding him tightly to him.

I lean up to kiss him again, soft and gentle.

"Yeah, we are," I tell him.

Rafael goes slow, taking his time, being meticulous, making sure we feel every little bit of this. Because we need to feel something before we lose our minds for good.

He groans, his breathing growing heavy. I rock my hips with his, an orgasm building from the way he grinds against my clit with each thrust.

"You feel so good," I tell him.

"So do you," he whispers. "So damn good."

His thrusts become harder. Not faster, but harder and deeper. I hold onto his arms, digging my nails in.

"Rafael," I moan.

"Yeah, baby?" he rasps.

"Make me come, please."

"Planned on it," he says, grinding long and hard against me. I sigh heavily, my head pressing into the pillow. He does it again and again, and each time I'm closer and closer.

"Come with me," he says.

"Yes…"

"Come with me now," he grunts, keeping his movements slow and firm.

One more thrust and I'm there. My body explodes around him, every bit of me on fire. He shudders, releasing in me and burying his face in my neck as he does. I clench around him, my orgasm ripping through me and lighting me on fire from the inside out.

We lie there for a few moments after, panting and trying to catch our breath. Eventually, he goes to the bathroom and comes back with a damp cloth to clean me up. He gets back into bed, and we cuddle more.

"At least we don't have to worry about me getting pregnant," I say.

He huffs out a laugh, pulling me closer to him.

"Yeah, at least we don't have to worry about that."