Yours Suddenly

Chapter 19

Alexandra

I wake two hours later at one a.m. Next to me on our bed, Roman is fast asleep in his boxers.

I can't go back to sleep. All I can think about are the words I overheard my husband say. Over and over.

And, also, there's potentially a human growing inside me.

A baby .

Twenty minutes pass, thirty minutes...

I get up. Put on a pair of jeans and a T-shirt. He doesn’t wake as I slip out of our room.

Faintly, I hear the voices of our few remaining guests. Some of them are in the process of leaving as I enter the grand foyer.

“Hey, do you think I could get a ride?” I say to a middle-aged couple.

“Mrs. Trent?” the man says. “It's one a.m. Everything okay?”

“Oh, I just want to get some Tylenol,” I say casually. “There’s a gas station at the end of the road. Headaches are a little frequent these days.”

“Ah.” The woman glances at my belly.

Am I really pregnant? I don't feel pregnant. I haven’t had any of the usual symptoms.

And if I am, this baby… bringing him or her into a loveless marriage… what would that even look like? Will the baby realize their father doesn't really love their mother? That all she is to him is a “good wife”, and that he is still waiting for the love of his life?

Emotion rises in me like magma in a volcano and I tear up.

“Oh, you poor darling,” the woman says. “We could go and get the Tylenol and bring it back to you?”

“No, it's fine. I'll get it myself,” I say firmly.

“Okay?” They exchange slightly uneasy looks as I follow them to their Ford truck, and at the gate, the guards let us through without checking who's in the car.

“Awesome party that was,” the husband says. “Barely saw Roman though but whenever I did he wasn't looking happy. All tense.”

“To be fair,” the wife says. “Roman always looks pissed off.”

They both laugh and I join in awkwardly. “Yeah, that's him. My husband.”

We arrive at the gas station. I get the pregnancy test, which is what I really came for. Get some Tylenol too even though we have plenty at home. I'm about to pay when my phone starts ringing.

It's Roman.

I stare at the screen.

“You gonna answer that?” the familiar attendant says.

A pause. “No, I don't think I will,” I say.

A text comes in. wherw are you??? answer thr phone

Pretending to care about me. Telling me he loves me, buying me a yacht, so that… what? I can be content with just being a good wife and not the love of his life, who supposedly is going to come along and replace me? I’m just someone to bear him children and decorate his hotels and be someone he can sleep next to and fuck?

No. I’m not.

please answr the fuckin phone

I hail an Uber, and when it arrives, I walk to the truck that brought me here.

“Thank you for the ride, but I'll be taking an Uber back home,” I say

The couple look worried.

“Oh,” the husband says. “Is that safe? At this time? For a woman by herself?”

“The app has safety features, and Rome is following the trip on his phone.”

They look at each other uncertainly.

“Well, bye, and thanks for coming to the party!” I say and walk to the Uber.

When I enter it, the driver says, “JFK?”

“Yes, please,” I reply.

I remember the words he said to me in Oregon. There's no place on this planet you can go that I won't find you.

Maybe in America he has contacts and associates across the country, but what about Europe? What about some small town in, like, Norway? He can't find me there. It's a good thing I have my own bank card now. He won't be able to track me down at all.

Pain suddenly constricts my heart.

The truth is… I don't want to leave America.

I don't want to get away from my family.

I want to be in his arms. I want what we had to be real. And I’m doing all this because I want him to come from halfway across the world to find me. To show me he cares. Not because I actually want to move to Oregon or Europe.

Tears start streaming down my eyes again, and a sob escapes me.

“You okay back there?” the Uber driver says as he drives us through a road with houses still in development. “What’s wr—?”

A car speeds past us in a blur and next thing, the Uber driver slams on his brakes. I place my arms in front of me so I don't crash into the front passenger seat.

“What the—?” I look through the windshield and see a black Maserati blocking our path.

Roman's car.

“What the hell?” the Uber driver says. Roman comes out of the car wearing a black vest and sweatpants, looking absolutely furious.

The Uber driver opens his window. “Hey man, what the f—?”

“I’d shut the fuck up and give my wife back to me if I were you.”

The Uber driver immediately shuts off at the cold fury in my husband’s voice as he opens the backseat door.

I don't want the driver to get in trouble. “I'm so sorry,” I say to him. “I'll leave a big tip.”

The Uber driver doesn’t respond. My foot hasn’t even touched the ground before Roman pulls me hard into his arms.

As soon as the Uber driver speeds away, not wanting to be involved with any of this bullshit for a second longer, I pull away from Roman as hard as he pulled me to him.

“Let go of me!”

“It's lucky the Smiths called me right away saying they left you at the gas station, or else I wouldn't have fucking found you!” His voice sounds hoarse. “What the fuck are you doing? Where are you going?”

Before I can say anything, he snatches my phone from my hand. He glances at the screen. “You were going to the airport again ?” Disbelief and hurt are in his voice. “Alexandra, what the fuck?”

“Oh, don't give me that fucking bullshit!” I yell at him. “I fucking heard you!”

“What?”

I grab my phone back and walk away from him, attempting to get another Uber. The pure shock on his face just made me so angry that I can’t engage with him.

“Alexandra, listen—” he starts.

“No, I don't want to listen to anything you have to say, okay? I don't want – I heard what you said. I'm not the love of your life.” My voice cracks. “I'm so tired of this. Of everything. What did I do to deserve this?”

He steps forward, and I can tell he wants to pull me in his arms, but I step away.

“Alexandra —”

It all happens so fast.

Suddenly, three black cars materialize out of the shadows and surround us.

“Fuck!” Roman pulls me close to him and before I can even blink or gasp, he pulls out a gun from his pocket. I'd seen the bulge in his sweatpants when he approached the Uber, but I thought it was something else!

With one swipe of his arm, he pushes me behind him and begins to shoot just as the others unload their barrels.

I scream as the sound assaults my ears, as Roman drags me to the side roughly and then to the ground.

POP POP POP POP POP!

It all probably lasts for about five seconds, but it feels like an eternity as I cower, my life flashing before me…

Then silence.

Roman, his big body shielding me as I lie on the asphalt on my stomach, gets up and kneels next to me. Frantically, he says, “Are you okay? Are you shot? Talk to me.”

“I-I'm fine. I don't think I'm hit.”

A heavy breath of relief comes out of him. “Good. Fuck.”

He quickly moves to the black cars that now have bullet holes in them, holding me tightly to his side, scanning the area, pointing his gun at the darkness around us.

He approaches one of the gunmen. One of them is sputtering blood from his mouth. Roman bends down and fishes something out of the man's jacket, his phone. He checks something on it and swears under his breath.

“Roman,” I say.

“Come here,” he says. He holds me tightly to his side as we walk to the Maserati. He opens the door for me and I slip inside as he gets on the phone, rounding the car to the driver’s side.

“Yeah. Definitely related to Gareth, we’re going to fuck him up . In Lanier Street,” he says. “Make ‘em get here quick to clean up. And meet me in Saler Way in five tops.” He sways a little as he gets in and starts the car.

“Roman, are you — are you shot?”

I watch as he places a hand on his side and when he brings it away, it's stained red.

“Roman!” I cry.

“Baby, don't panic, it's okay,” he says as he speeds us out of there.

“Roman!” I gasp, panicking, tears streaming down my face. “You're shot, you're shot —”

“I'm okay, don't panic.”

When we're about two minutes away from the crime scene, he parks in an abandoned alley and grunts a little. He keeps one eye on our surroundings and the other on me.

“Let me drive us to a hospital!” I offer as dizziness and nausea take over my body.

“No, we're not going to the hospital. I have some things I need to explain to you. I feel like I owe it to you right now since I can't keep hiding these things from you” He sighs. “I'm a fucking criminal.”

“Don't talk,” I sob. “There's nothing to explain.”

“I didn't want you exposed to this life, so I kept it from you. I didn't want you to know you married into a life of violence. I wanted to protect you because… you are good. Pure . And you’ve already been through a lot, baby. Too much. But I was fucking selfish. I married you and I exposed this life to you anyway, and now you almost got killed because I was afraid to come clean to you.”

His dark eyes aren’t as focused as they usually are. I can't accept that. I press my hand on top of his and his wound.

“This is my fault,” I cry. “This is all my fault!”

“It's not,” he says firmly. “It's my fault. I brought danger to you. When we got married, so many people wanted to get back at me through you, they wanted to hurt you because I've killed so many of them, so I had Blake around you while I went to work with Tristan and my men. I killed so many of them to protect you. I had to…” His eyes close and my heart stops but he opens them again. “I kept away from you, pushed you away because you didn’t know . You didn’t know the man who came to sleep next to you at night was a monster. I felt like you wouldn’t want to once you knew who I really was. And, fuck, I had to act like you didn't matter to me, so they wouldn't target you. I was moving around with different women at my side, to throw my enemies off, I was telling them I didn't love you, so I could protect you, but all I did was hurt you in the process. I should have just told you because there was no way I was always going to keep this life from you.” Fury enters his eyes. “Every single fucking person who even dared to threaten your life, I killed them. Snuffed out their lives. They threatened you and wanted to take you away from me. There's no way I was letting that happen.” Some of the anger dissipates. “I can’t let you go, Alexandra. I just – I just can’t. Please. Please don't leave me.”

“I'm not leaving you,” I whisper. “Never.”

“I love you,” he says. His voice is becoming fainter and fainter. “I love you so much. You're the light in my darkness…”