Chapter Sixteen

SIMON

Twenty minutes later, and Magnolia and I are still wrapped in my comforter, wound up in one another. I drag the fingertips of my left hand up and down the column of her spine, the pads of my fingers just barely brushing her skin.

“You okay, Magnolia?”

She looks up at me, eyes shining with unshed tears.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” I ask, worried she regrets what just happened between us.

“I…I have so m-many emotions r-running through me right now, I’m not even sure which way is up.”

“Talk to me, okay? Don’t shut me out.” I press a kiss to the top of her head, breathing in the calming lavender scent of her hair.

“I won’t shut you out, I promise.”

“Good.” I unwrap myself from around her, and she whines at the loss of contact. “Don’t worry, I’ll be right back.” I slip my sweats back on and toss Magnolia the shirt she slept in before padding down the hall to the kitchen.

I quickly put on a pot of coffee and throw together a quick breakfast consisting of fresh fruit and cheesy eggs. “Where’s that damn tray,” I mumble to myself, opening and closing cabinets looking for the serving tray Myla Rose insisted I needed. As a last-ditch effort, I check the cabinet over the fridge. “Found it!” I exclaim, victorious.

I pile our food and mugs of coffee onto the tray, taking slow, measured steps back down the hall as to not slosh any coffee over the rims of the mugs. “Hope you’re hungry,” I say as I step back into the bedroom.

“Is this…did you do this for me?” Magnolia asks, pressing a hand to her chest.

“Certainly did, Goldilocks.”

Those tears she’d been trying to keep at bay finally spill over, and I worry I’ve somehow screwed up. “Oh, S-Simon. This is the n-nicest thing anyone has ever d-done for me.”

“Get used to it, pretty girl, because as long as you’re mine, it’s just a way of life. Taking care of you is as natural as breathing.”

“I’m yours?” she asks, hope coloring her tone.

“You wanna be mine?”

“D-don’t you know b-better than to answer a question with a question?” I quirk my brow at her, and she laughs then replies, “Yeah, Simon, I wanna be yours.”

“Exactly what I was hopin’ you’d say. Now, let’s eat.”

We dig into our food, and the eggs cause Magnolia to moan much the same way I cause her to moan. “Good, right?”

“Oh my God, s-so good.”

“Not as good as yours, but thanks.” I have a lot I want us to talk about this morning, but I know she’ll need her energy for the conversation, so I decide to wait until we’re both fed and caffeinated.

Once both our bellies are full, I place our plates back on the tray and set it down on the dresser—the dishes can wait.

“Magnolia.” I tuck her long hair back behind her ear, brushing my fingers over her cheeks. “We need to talk.”

Her eyes become guarded and weary, and I hate it. “We…we do?”

“We do.” I crawl up next to her on the bed and draw her close. “Not about us, but about everything that has happened and everything that is happening.”

“Yeah, o-okay.”

“I gotta ask…do you really think your husband had anything to do with your car?”

“My gut says yes, but I don’t know. D-doesn’t that seem farfetched?”

“Hard for me to say, but if you truly think it was him, then I believe you. I need you to know that. Also need you to know I’ll protect you from him—and anyone else who means you harm.”

Magnolia melts into me, and I love it.

“Next thing: y’all are still married?” I grit my teeth in anticipation of her reply. The thought of her being his in any way has my blood rushing so loudly, I swear I can hear it roaring, like a raging river.

“Yes,” she whispers, her voice breaking.

“Explain,” I prompt, careful to keep my tone calm and even.

“As y-you know, I r-r-ran. Never had the m-money to file for divorce, though I doubt I w-would’ve been b-brave enough even if I had. He’s…Grant’s r-rich and powerful. He has c-connections and…”

“And what? It’s okay, you can tell me anything.”

“I was scared he w-would hunt me d-down and drag me h-home.”

Fire ignites in my chest at the thought. “Never gonna let that happen.”

“Promise?”

“Swear it, Goldilocks.”

§

MAGNOLIA

When Simon said we needed to talk, I was momentarily petrified. A million thoughts raced through my mind all at once. The most prevalent: Did he decide I’m too much work? That I’m not worth the hassle?

Truly, I should’ve known better. That’s not the kind of man Simon McAllister is, not to mention, he’s so very right—there’re a lot of things we need to talk about, even though some of them will hurt.

“This next question, Magnolia—please know your answer won’t change anything about the way I feel for you.”

I twine my fingers together in my lap and worry my lip between my teeth; I know what he’s about to ask me.

“You said you can’t have children?”

“Um…wow, this is r-r-really hard to talk about.”

“Take your time, pretty girl. I’m yours, either way.”

I release my own hands and take hold of his, hoping to glean some of his strength. “L-like I t-told you, Grant used to b-beat on me.” Simon tips his chin down to his chest, his blue stare boring into mine. “He…he wanted a son something f-fierce. The m-minute we said ‘I do,’ he was t-talking about babies, w-wanted to start trying right away.

“It t-took a while for me to conceive, and then about ten weeks in, I mis-miscarried. Grant was so, so, so mad. So, we tried a-again. Another miscarriage. And again.” I pause to brush away the moisture clinging to my cheeks, but it’s no use; fresh tears just keep falling. “Grant was furious. He took me to a specialist, who told him there was n-no real r-reason for me to not be able to carry a baby, said it was probably stress-induced, which just served to enrage him even more. A-according to him, I didn’t have anything to be stressed about, you know, because getting the snot beat out of me daily certainly wasn’t upsetting.”

I let out a deprecating laugh; my God, I hate that monster. He not only robbed me of years of my life, but also of my ability to create life.

“After that, he p-put me on a schedule and a diet. He tr-tracked my fertility, my b-basal temperature, all of that. He researched the best times and days and p-positions, and f-finally, six months later, we got a p-positive test.”

Simon kisses the corner of my eye. “I feel like the worst is yet to come, and my heart fucking hurts for you.”

I offer him a strained smile in return. “The pregnancy stuck this time, made it into the second trimester. Grant was so happy, and for a while, things were good. He even took me to a dinner party one night. One of his b-business associates struck up a con-conversation with me, and Grant saw red. He practically dragged me home.

“He was sh-shouting c-crazy stuff, accusing me of cheating—said the bastard in my belly wasn’t his.” My tears are a steady stream now, my voice shaky. I glance to Simon, and he’s crying almost as hard as I am, distraught over the things I’m telling him. “He th-threw me down the st-stairs. I prayed he’d leave me alone, but he stomped down after me like he was possessed by the devil himself, reared back and kicked me again and again, t-told me he wasn’t gonna raise the abomination in my belly.”

Simon pulls me up, cocoons me in his arms, and kisses my face all over, tasting my tears.

“It was his, Simon, I s-swear. Until you, I’d only ever been with him.”

“I know, Magnolia, I know.”

“I lost my baby, Simon. I saw him on the ultrasound screen just the week before and heard his heartbeat. It was a b-boy. He k-killed my baby.” My soft cries have turned to full-blown wails as I mourn the loss of my son. “When he beat me that time, he damaged my o-ovaries, and now…” My words fall away, allowing him to fill in the rest.

Simon swallows roughly, his posture as rigid as a steel post. “Two things,” he grinds out through clenched teeth. “One, if I ever meet that sack of shit, I’m gonna kill him. I’m gonna put him down like the dog he is. Two, I love you regardless.”

We both freeze.

“You…you love me?” I choke on the question, petrified to hear his answer.

“Yeah, Goldilocks, I do.”