“Theo! Theo, stop! Would you stop!”

Imogen’s voice yells after me, but my boots won’t stop stomping through the slush of the parking lot. Blood whooshes in my ears and my blunt fingernails are digging into my palms.

That fucking blue blood was chatting my pregnant wife up, and there she was, flirting with him for all to see. My vision has become tinted, green circles of jealousy clouding all rational thought.

She told me in her text that she wanted to meet for lunch, that she wanted to update me on all of the things going on with her pregnancy and show me the photos of the baby thus far. And then I get here, only to see her childhood love sitting in my seat, making my wife laugh.

Kieran Hayes was cut from the same cloth as Imogen and her brothers; a trust-fund kid born with a silver spoon in his mouth. He liked angora sweaters and racing crew boats, went to an Ivy League college and now runs a multi-million dollar arm of his family’s business.

And he was also the man that Imogen’s father had all but arranged her to be married to.

I’d met the guy on a couple of occasions, and he’d always been polite. But I’d never been able to forget that he was probably a better match for my wife than I was and often wondered if he was thinking the same when he spoke with us over champagne at some swanky charity ball.

“Theo! I’m going to fall if you keep this up,” Imogen screeches, and I come to an abrupt halt.

Somewhere in the back of my mind, I know that she’s pregnant and shouldn’t be skating on the thin layer of ice coating the pavement. I turn, seeing her shivering even with a coat, and I blanch.

Walking toward me, I take her elbow and use all of the restraint in my bones not to drag her to her car. I’m seething, and I know I can’t be trusted to talk or I’ll start screaming at her right here in the parking lot. Usually, I’m a calm, cool and collected kind of guy. But something about Kieran and everything he stands for hits a nerve, especially when it comes to my wife.

We make it to my truck, and I open the passenger side door for her.

“I came in my own car, and no way am I getting in there with you. Not when you’re acting like this.” She crosses her slim arms over her chest, which only props her growing breasts up more. My eyes immediately land on them, because I’m a male who finds the woman he married insanely hot … especially during her pregnancy.

But my aggravation wins over. “As if I was the one flirting in there … with the guy your parents wanted you to end up with, no less.”

“Theo Walsh … are you … jealous?” Immy looks up at me curiously.

“That fucking Ralph Lauren in there was checking you out? Yeah, I was. That he was chatting up my wife, the one who is carrying our baby? Yeah, you’re lucky I didn’t deck him.”

Her nostrils flare. “I’m not a piece of property, Theo. I’m a woman who is very capable of having a friendly conversation with a childhood friend.”

And it’s about this time that I implode. “YOU ARE MINE!”

My words are strangled with pain, hoarse with desperation. I am losing her, to her family and to pricks like that. I am losing the two most important people in my life and backing off hasn’t helped, and neither has staking a claim. I don’t know what to do anymore.

Imogen begins to turn, and her foot slips, sending her knees buckling. I hear her intake of breath as I catch her, steady her, and wrench open the truck door.

“I’m not going to say it again, get in.”

Her eyes are wide but she does as she’s told. Is it too much to ask for her to wear bubble wrap for the entire rest of her pregnancy?

I briskly walk to the driver’s side of my truck and climb in, turning it on and finally releasing a breath when the warm air from the vents hits my cheeks.

“You are mine, Imogen. I promised my life to you, and you did the same. Of course I want to spit nails when I see you talking to your childhood love.”

“You made me promise that I would leave you! That I would never look back!” Now it’s her turn to yell.

“Because you left, Im. You packed up and left me. You asked for a divorce. You shattered me. I had to protect what little was left.” My tone is somber now as I stare down at the console between us.

“And I had to protect myself, too. I was so broken, there was almost nothing left of me. I lost who I was in our marriage, I lost my dignity and my career. My heart was hanging on by a thread after the loss of the first baby … I didn’t know how to talk to you about it. And you didn’t bother to help me open up. We were on autopilot, Theo, and no one should live a life like that. This isn’t about my family, or Kieran. I have never had feelings for him, nor will I ever. There has never been anyone but you. This was about leaving to save myself, and I’m sorry I hurt you in the process. I am truly sorry.”

Turning to her, I take her gloved hand. Not out of the need to touch her, but of the need to comfort her. “I never blamed you, nor would I, not in a thousand years. You were so much stronger than I could have ever been when we lost the baby. It killed me, both for myself and to see you in such pain. After that, I think we both just shut down, tried to cope with the hurt separately as to spare the other. And I’m sorry for that.”

“So what do you want to do, Theo? The annual conference is over, there is no need for me to keep living in the house. You have the divorce papers, you can sign them and we can figure out custody of the baby when it’s born. If that’s what you want. If you truly want me to leave.”

I stare at her. How can she not know? “I want you to stay. I want you to fall in love with me again. I want to raise our child together and live happily ever after. The question is, is that what you want?”

Imogen’s green eyes blink up at me, unshed tears glistening. “Falling out of love with you was never the problem.”

My heart stalls … does that mean she’s still in love with me? Because if so, there is still a chance here.

“I need space, Theo. I need time to think. Please … can you please give me time to think?” She sounds drained.

From the beginning, I’ve said it … whatever she needs, I will give it to her. Not that my happiness isn’t important, because over the course of the last couple months, I’ve learned that I need to listen to my own heart … but I will always put her first.

That’s what a man does when he is in love.

“Of course. Let’s get you home.”

Starting the car, I make sure she’s fully buckled in before I shift the gear into drive. We’ll worry about getting her car tomorrow.

Imogen may need space and time, but it doesn’t mean I’m going to back off when it comes to monitoring every part of her pregnancy from now on. Call me a protective dad.