She turned at the sound of my entry, her hair slicked back, her eyes wide with surprise. She didn’t say a word; she simply floated there, watching me with an intensity that made my heart race.
I swam closer, deliberately, not forcing the issue or chasing her down. I closed the distance with each stroke, my heart pounding with anticipation.
When I reached her, I didn’t cage her in. Instead, I let my hand brush against her waist, a gentle caress that was more of a question than a demand.
She didn’t pull away; instead, she turned slightly, inviting my touch.
I leaned in, my lips brushing against her shoulder first, testing the waters. Her skin was cool and damp, a hint of warmth radiating from her. I kissed higher, tracing the curve of her collarbone, the hollow of her throat, and the edge of her jaw.
Her breath hitched, a soft sound that hung in the air, filled with expectation.
Finally, I captured her mouth with mine, giving her the connection I sensed she craved. Her lips parted instantly, as if they had been waiting for this moment all along. The kiss began slowly, tenderly, before deepening, growing hungrier as I felt her melt against me.
Her body responded to my touch, pressing closer, molding to mine. Every soft sigh that escaped her lips vibrated through me, unraveling the chains of restraint I had wrapped around myself.
I pulled back just enough to whisper against her mouth, “Savannah… talk to me. Whatever it is.”
Her nails grazed my chest underwater, a delicate scrape that made my breath hitch. She rested her forehead against mine, and for a long moment, I feared she wouldn’t answer. I feared she would retreat into silence again, leaving me hanging in uncertainty.
But then, she spoke, her voice a quiet, shattered whisper. “The baby isn’t Dean’s.”
Time seemed to freeze.
The water stilled, the air thickened, and even my heart seemed to forget how to beat for a moment.
Her eyes met mine, wide and filled with a tempest she had been trying so hard to contain all night.
In that single moment, everything I thought I understood about Chloe’s announcement, about the chaos that had unfolded around us earlier, shattered into pieces. The truth hung heavy in the air, and I realized that our world had just irrevocably changed.
**Savannah**
Roman drew back slightly, his thumb gliding gently over my damp cheek. His gaze was searching as he asked, “And how do you know that?”
A tight knot formed in my chest, a mix of anxiety and determination. The words I had been holding onto felt like molten lava, ready to erupt and shatter everything in their path. “I know what I’m saying, Roman. I’m absolutely certain that the child isn’t Dean’s. It simply can’t be.”
But could it? The thought flickered through my mind like a dark shadow. Could he have done something so reckless? That was impossible, wasn’t it? He had sworn he wouldn’t. But then again, people change. Maybe he had changed his mind.
“Savannah, just let it go,” Roman urged, his hand sliding to the small of my back, pulling me closer to him as if his warmth could somehow dissolve my doubts. There was a softness in his voice, but the underlying firmness was unmistakable. “He’s marrying your sister in less than two days. It’s time to close that chapter, love.”
I shook my head vehemently, breaking free from his embrace. Drops of water clung to my hair, trickling down my bare skin, but the chill was the least of my concerns.
“It’s not that. That’s not what I’m talking about, Roman.”
“Then what is it?” His brow furrowed, damp strands of hair falling boyishly over his eyes, adding to the intensity of the moment.
I took a deep breath, steeling myself for the truth that could alter everything.
“Dean got a vasectomy, Roman. He can’t be the father of the baby.” The words tumbled out in a rush, a bombshell that could potentially unravel my sister’s marriage before it had even begun.
Once spoken, I felt a weight lift, but the aftermath loomed ominously over me.
Roman paused, his dark eyes searching mine, as if trying to piece together a puzzle that I had just thrown at him. “Maybe he got it reversed. It is reversible, you know.”
I shook my head, conviction flooding my voice. “He would never do that. Dean wouldn’t get it reversed.”
Frustration flickered across his features as he raked a hand through his damp hair, droplets flying. “Hold on, you think Chloe doesn’t know that her fiancé had a vasectomy? How is that even possible?”
“She doesn’t,” I retorted, my voice sharp and unwavering. “Chloe has no idea. Just a few days ago, I walked into their bedroom, and there was a box of condoms on the nightstand. Dean has no use for those-at least not when we were together.”
I noticed Roman’s jaw tighten at the mention of our shared past.
“So it only means that she has no idea he got a vasectomy,” I concluded, my breath coming in quick bursts.
Roman cocked his head, skepticism written all over his face. “Maybe they just like to pretend he didn’t. A little role-play? People get up to a lot of strange fun these days, Savannah.”
I felt a surge of frustration, nearly ready to smack him for his flippant attitude, even though he looked undeniably attractive with his wet hair tousled. “Be serious, Roman.”
“I am being serious, Sav,” he replied, a half-shrug betraying his nonchalance. “It’s ridiculous to assume the baby isn’t his just because of a vasectomy. Maybe he suddenly changed his mind. People do that, you know.”
“Dean would never want to start a family,” I snapped, my voice echoing off the tiled walls, the tension palpable.
Roman’s expression hardened. “Savannah, stop it. Move on. You and Dean have been over for years. There’s no going back. If he’s foolish enough to want to raise children with someone like her, that’s his loss, not yours. Just let it go, alright?”
My stomach twisted uncomfortably at his words. “No, you don’t understand-“
“Then make me understand,” he interjected sharply, his frustration spilling over. “Because all I see is a woman struggling to accept what is right in front of her. Whatever you had is ancient history. It’s forgotten. Let go of the past. Move on.”
His words struck me with the force of a physical blow, leaving me breathless. My lips parted in disbelief, anger surging through me like a wildfire. “You will not speak to me that way, Roman.”
“You are,” he shot back, his glare pinning me in place. “Get a grip, Savannah.”
“Then stop acting the way you are.”
For a long moment, we stood in silence, the air thick with unspoken emotions. The only sound was the gentle lapping of water against the tile and the furious pounding of my heart, echoing in my ears.
I broke the silence, my voice low and laced with bitterness. “I can’t believe you.”
Pushing off the wall, water cascaded from my skin as I stalked out, oblivious to my nakedness and his piercing gaze.
He swore under his breath. “Savannah, wait.”
“Don’t speak to me!” I yelled, snatching my robe from the floor, wrapping it around myself with trembling hands. The sash slipped as my wet fingers fumbled, but I yanked it tighter, desperate for comfort.
New Book: Back Home to Marry Off Myself
Loredana’s father left the family for his mistress, leaving them to fend for themselves abroad. When life was at its toughest, her father showed up with “good news” after 8 years of absence: To marry off Loredana to a paralyzed son of the wealthy Mendelsohn family.