Chapter 11

CHAPTER 11

Elliot

It takes everything in me not to say, "You sure the fuck did!"

But I know he doesn't know about his child, so he only means that he still has feelings for me, and I don't understand why.

"Alex, be real," I say as I reach for my lemonade. "It was sex."

His eyes are so telling. Heat moves through those caramel depths as he slowly shakes his head. "The sex was fantastic, it was, but you know it was more. We spent every night together."

"For sex," I remind him, but he doesn't budge.

"You slept at my house even without it."

"Because I was living with my peepaw and Clara. Your place was easier to get to the arena from."

He eyes me, his lip curving in a lopsided smirk. " Me encanta la forma en que mientes ." I love the way you lie.

Asshole.

"I'm not lying."

He just chuckles as the waiter brings our food. As soon as he sets down my chicken piccata, I don't know if it's the lemon or what, but nausea hits me hard. I cover my mouth and look away, closing my eyes as I breathe through my nose.

The waiter leans in and says, " Signorina ?" just as Alex asks, "Elliot, are you okay?"

I wave them both off, exhaling hard. "Yes, sorry. Just felt off for a second. I'm fine," I urge as I lean back, breathing through my mouth. I'm not sure what is happening. I haven't had any issues with food in months. Why am I now?

The waiter smiles and wishes us well before heading back to the kitchen. I can feel Alex's gaze on me, those knowing eyes watching me. I look up to see such concern in his expression.

"Are you okay?"

"The lemon is overpowering, I think."

He only nods, standing up and switching our plates. As soon as the plate of piccata is out of sight, my nausea dies down. I look down at his mushroom risotto and then back to him. "But this is your favorite."

He shrugs. "And yours. So, eat it."

We'd come here a few times before he left. He'd never let me order the mushroom risotto, saying he wanted to try something new but always also have his favorite. He liked to try what I got, and I always looked forward to eating part of his risotto. My heart softens at his kindness, and then the guilt floods in, drowning me.

I should have told him when I found out. I know he would have run back, though, and I wanted him to have that experience in Nashville. He's destined for greatness, and I don't want to hold him back.

I don't want him to resent me.

I don't want to fall for him.

Damn it, though, he'd make it so easy. Hell, he wouldn't even need to try that hard. With those quick grins, those all-knowing eyes, and that mouth that has a way of making me wet just by saying my name, I'd be a goner. I've always wanted to be in love, even when I didn't know what it was. When I was trapped with men who would use me as a hole and not as a woman. When I was owned and never said anything because I didn't want my sisters to come save me. They were getting out; I had to keep it that way. Even knowing I was being used, I still confused it with love. When I learned the truth, when I got out, I felt like a nasty whore. I'd just wanted to be special to a man when, really, I was already special to someone.

Myself.

Lot of therapy and lots of med changes caused that realization to happen for me.

With how Alex looks at me, he makes me feel as if my childhood dream could be possible.

But I know there is no way he'll accept what I did. Not hiding my pregnancy and not what happened before I escaped the cult. Hell, with how I have to be on meds to survive. No one wants that. No one wants that burden. I don't even know how my sisters do it.

I'm spiraling.

Fuck.

I look up just as Alex takes my hand. " Mami , breathe," he whispers, running his thumb along the back of my hand. "It's okay. I want you to have my meal. This piccata is damn good."

He's not lying. He's going to town on the plate, eating it in huge bites while I just watch him. "Eat, mi sol ." My sun.

"Alex…don't call me that."

"I'm only speaking the truth. You bring such light, Elliot. Eat."

I swallow hard as emotion threatens to suffocate me. I reach for my fork and whisper, "Thank you."

He winks, in such a confident matter that it leaves me breathless. "I told you I was going to have you catching feelings for me."

I laugh at that, rolling my eyes. "It's going to take more than switching plates with me."

"Oh, I'm aware," he says, squeezing my hand. "And I'm ready."

Our eyes meet once more, and I let out a slow sigh before I take a bite of the insanely good mushroom risotto. After I've taken three bites, I find that Alex is watching with a satisfied grin on his face.

"Feeling better?"

"Yes, thank you."

"And how is it?"

"So good."

He nods, pleased with that, before we go back to eating. "So, have you been seeing anyone?"

I look up at him through my lashes. "Not that it matters, but no."

"Didn't want anyone but me?" I glance up to find him beaming at me, those caramel eyes flashing with playfulness.

Yes.

"Not at all. Just busy."

Growing your child.

" Little liar ," he mutters, and I set him with a look.

" Delusional boy ," I throw back, and he looks almost feral.

"I love when you speak to me in my language. Gets me all hard," he tells me quickly, his eyes heated.

"Good to know. It's how I'll bring you to your knees," I say, my Spanish perfect from years of learning and speaking it. When we were younger, Louisa wanted all of us to be fluent in different languages. It wasn't until I was almost sixteen that I learned it was because she was planning on getting us out of the country and away from the cult. Thankfully, Peepaw was able to take us in, and the rest is history. But for moments like this, I'm glad I'm multilingual.

Alex's eyes burn for me as he tells me in English, "Oh mami , I'll stay there if that's what you want."

Fucking hell, his words get me every time. Especially when he looks at me like he wants to devour me whole. This was a mistake. I can't flirt with him.

But I love doing it.

Ugh.

He leans forward then, his eyes capturing mine. "Tell me something."

"No, I won't sleep with you."

"Tonight," he clarifies, and I give him a dry look that he ignores. "What happened to your stomach?"

My whole body freezes, and my heart goes still in my chest as I hold his gaze. "Sorry?"

"You're wearing all these big clothes, your stomach is hard, and when you hugged me, you only let your chest touch me so I wouldn't feel it. What's going on?"

I bite into my cheek. "You noticed the hug thing?"

"Yeah," he says softly. "When we hugged before, you'd press your whole body to mine. Flush. So I could feel every inch of your delectable body, and havoc would ensue."

My mouth goes dry, and I suddenly feel like forming words will be too hard.

"Are you sick? Cancer?"

I shake my head, licking my lips. "I told you no."

"Hernia?"

"No, not at all," I say, looking away and feeling like the biggest asshole in the world. Why am I dragging this out? I just need to say it. Tell him, and be ready for the repercussions. This isn't fair to him or me. More so him than me, but the faster I tell him, the quicker the flirting and the wanting me will stop. I've done him wrong, and I need to rectify that. He'll be stuck with me for the next eighteen years, but I'd rather it be on good terms. I owe him that.

I meet his gaze, and his eyes are just so inviting, so kind, and they make me feel things I don't deserve to feel. Yet, I see the curiosity. I press my lips together and swallow hard, willing myself not to be a coward.

"Are you pregnant?" Alex's question catches me off guard, and my mouth parts in utter shock.

How…

I squeeze my hands together to the point that my knuckles are white. I don't look away as his eyes beg for the truth.

"Yes," I whisper as tears burn in my eyes.

His face is unchanging, his eyes darkening as he stares into mine. He doesn't allow me to look away, not that I would. I owe him the eye contact. The truth. His voice is guttural as he asks, "Is it mine?"

A tear leaks out, but I don't brush it away. I only stare into the eyes of my child's father and whisper, "Yes."