Chapter 675
How could Elodie bear it? She loved children so deeply-how could she possibly
let go?
“What kind of explanation do you think I owe you?” Elodie lowered her eyes, absently stroking her stomach. “You never considered my feelings before making your decisions, so why should I need your permission now, when it comes to my own body?”
Jarrod flinched as if struck. He stared at her, his voice low and tight. “But this is my child, too.”
“That’s exactly why I don’t want it.” This time, Elodie looked him straight in the eye. It was one of those rare moments when her words were ice-cold, sharp and distant, as if all of this had nothing to do with her. “Jarrod, this is the consequence of your actions. I won’t bring a child into such an unhealthy family.”
Of course, it was just an excuse-something to paper over the real reason, her diagnosis—but it was still true in its own way.
Wasn’t this also a kind of cause and effect?
If he didn’t want her to get pregnant, she’d take pills for him. If he wanted her to have the baby, then she must obey? Was everything subject to his will alone? What gave him that right?
“Is this about you not marrying Ivan anymore?” Jarrod asked suddenly, his gaze never leaving her. “You called off the wedding, and now-out of nowhere—you don’t want this baby, either?”
Elodie’s hand curled into a fist. His words stung; she couldn’t help it.
“You”
“Let’s go home.” Jarrod cut her off abruptly, starting the car again. He didn’t want to hear another word that would rip him apart from the inside.
The joy he’d felt when he first heard the news was now mirrored by an ache so deep it threatened to hollow him out.
Elodie knew he understood her resolve. She said nothing more.
Jarrod pressed the gas and drove them back to the apartment complex. They went up in silence, Jarrod following her to the door.
At the threshold, Elodie turned. “This is my home.”
He got the message-she wanted him gone.
Jarrod looked down, took her hand, and pressed it to the fingerprint reader. The door clicked open. He pulled her gently inside. “Are you hungry? Let me make you something to eat.”
He didn’t mention the baby again.
Elodie watched him. “I’m not hungry, Jarrod. You don’t need to fuss over me.”
Whether it was about dinner or the baby, it made no difference.
Jarrod hesitated, drawing a slow breath before turning back to her. “Did the doctor prescribe anything? Did they say if the little one is healthy?”
He was dodging the real topic again.
Elodie turned and walked toward the
bedroom. “There are plenty of
women who could have your child-no need to fixate on me. You’re Mr. Silverstein, after all. All you have to do is crook your finger and you’ll get whatever you want.”
Lucinda Howard wanted those prized genes, too-easy enough to oblige.
Jarrod’s expression darkened. He strode after her and caught her arm. “Can you watch your words? What do those other people have to do with me?”
He knew his tone was harsh. He looked down, gathering himself, then met her gaze again, sliding his grip from her arm to her hand, holding it, his thumb brushing gently over her knuckles. His eyes, deep and shadowed, held a flicker of silent pleading. “Elodie, just give me some time. Give yourself time, too. What if you’re just angry at me, and you end up making a decision you’ll regret? It’s a life, Elodie—a real, living child. Please.”
And yet…
He couldn’t help but wonder. Was she really ending the pregnancy just because she wasn’t marrying Ivan after all? The timing was too coincidental. Old wounds that Rad haunted him for years began to throb again.
Even though Elodie had said herself she no longer cared for Ivan, the sting remained.
He couldn’t think of any other reason why someone who loved children as much
as Elodie would insist on ending her pregnancy.
There seemed to be only one possible explanation staring him in the face.
But he refused to accept it.
He’d rather believe Elodie was simply angry with him than imagine anything—or anyone else was behind her decision.
Elodie felt the warmth of his palm, then gently pulled her hand free. “You’re overthinking it. Why would I make this decision because of you? Jarrod, don’t flatter yourself. You’re not that important.”
Jarrod felt as if a knife had slipped straight through his heart.