Pregnant And Rejected

Chapter 113 Making Up

Bastien’s POV

“Much more of this, and I’m going to regret coming back at all!”

I can’t stop hearing Selene say those awful words over and over in my head. They circle round and round, tormenting me every time my mind drifts from my work.

We haven’t spoken since that phone call. When I got back to the apartment last night Selene was already asleep, and this morning she took Lila to the park before I was even awake. It’s clear she doesn’t want to talk to me, and if our situation were any less dire ! wouldn’t permit such avoidance, but the investigation is keeping me busy day and night.

Luckily the eclipse festival will force us into the same room tonight, and I won’t let us go to bed angry again. We’ll talk all this out and keep at it until things are resolved, we can’t go back to bottling up our feelings and I can’t fail Selene again. I won’t.

The only blessing we’ve had since returning is Selene’s good press, and even my own has improved greatly since those first tense days back. Still, nothing is simple. I’m putting out fires left and right, and the more dead ends I reach searching for our enemies, the more stressed I become.

I can only pray that nothing goes wrong at the festival tonight-whether in my marriage, or the pack.

Selene’s POV

“Careful sweetheart.” I caution Lila, “the oven is very hot.”

We’re in the kitchen baking cookies, and in all her excitement to see the gooey chocolate confections come out of the oven, my pup is hovering right behind me as I extract the tray.

“How soon we eat dem?” She asks hopefully.

“They have to cool first.” I remind her, “but it won’t be too long.”

“One mint?” She chirps.

“More like fifteen minutes,” I correct.

“Mommy dat’s forever!” She exclaims.

“Better forever than a burnt tongue, my love.” I laugh.

As I get started on the dishes, Lila sets up camp in front of the cooling rack, hungrily watching the cookies as if she’s worried one might jump off and roll away. In fact she’s so intent, I’m surprised to hear her small voice after only a few moments. “Mommy?”

reply, already preparing to

are cool yet. Instead she inquires, “Are you ‘n’

disagreeing. Sometimes grown ups disagree with each other and it can sound or feel like fighting, but it’s

I don’ like

silent chuckle, I reply. “I don’t like

why you do it?” Lila questions, sounding as if she thinks I’m

explain, choosing my words very carefully. Besides it’s important to share what you’re feeling with the people you love, even when those feelings aren’t good. Otherwise, you can never

night and this

this age aren’t capable of hearing anything without asking ‘why.’ “Because when we keep unhappy feelings locked up inside of us, then they stay there and get bigger and bigger.” I say slowly sensing my own unhappy feelings growing even as I speak. “You have to let them out. You just have to be very careful how you do it, how you

I no like him?”

when foolish mommies tell their mates they regret

make up?”

to take a little bit of time or space to calm down or figure out what you’re feeling – so you don’t say things you don’t mean.” Or when you’re a big scaredy-cat

how long it take?”

and Daddy?”

“Yes.” She peeps.

I answer truthfully. I’m not sure why I’m feeling so moody, but I really don’t want to fight with Bastien. I just have to find

Bastien’s POV

mother brings Lila down to my study just before seven to say goodnight, as we all decided she was too young to

always does. Sometimes

me with the same sober expression, “Daddy, I

everything, but I wasn’t prepared for her to be so tuned in when she hasn’t even seen us together.

arms up in exasperation. “So make

little orle.” I

Lila insists,

everything truly was as black and white as they seem in children’s minds. However, when Lila hears the rolling rumble in my chest, she frowns. “Is not

promise, “I’ll talk to Mommy tonight. You have my

my lap

call after her, “I don’t get a goodnight

giggle, running back over to me and throwing her arms around my neck, “goodnight

tight, I reply. “Goodnight Lila. I love

I’m standing in front of the wide, floor to ceiling mirror in my closet, decked out in a black suit and wrangling my cuff links