Mr. Remington Got Me Pregnant novel Chapter 9

Landon’s POV

Does it make me a hypocrite if I say I miss her? Would you even believe me, knowing I was the one who pushed her away? I ignored her, I made her feel like nothing.

And now, here I am, tearing through every corner of this city like she’s everything.

I couldn’t sleep, not even close. The pregnancy test still sat on my desk like it was mocking me. Right next to it was her wedding ring. Both untouched, both screaming louder than any words could.

I didn’t move, and drink. I didn’t blink for long stretches of time. I just sat there, watching every piece of my ignorance unravel right in front of me. And once it started, I couldn’t stop the memories from flooding in.

Her voice echoed in my head. The way she used to softly ask, “Do you have time to talk?” Like she was trying not to be a burden.

The way she stopped asking when I never did. The dark circles under her eyes. The way her smile started to disappear. The way her silence turned deafening. I missed it all.

I remembered the night she tried to cook dinner.

It was late. I had just come back from a board meeting, pissed off and starving. She stood there in the kitchen, apron on, hair tied back, table set for two. Her eyes looked nervous but hopeful.

“I thought I’d try making that Venezuelan dish you said you liked in college,” she said, biting her lip. “Arepas. It might be too dry, I’m still figuring it out.”

I didn’t even look at the plate. “I already ate,” I muttered, brushing past her like she was part of the decor.

She didn’t argue. Just smiled, small and stiff, like it didn’t hurt. I didn’t look back. Didn’t see the way she quietly threw out the food when I went upstairs.

Or the time she decorated for my birthday. Nothing big, a few balloons in the hallway, and a card with my name on the counter.

“Did you open the card?” she asked.

“I don’t have time for romantic letters. Just throw it away. I’m busy, Emery.”

“Oh… Okay then.” Her face fell. She tucked the card away and never brought it up again. Never did anything for my birthday after that, either.

By morning, I was still in the same chair, same clothes, same fog. The staff had set the breakfast table like it was just another Tuesday.

My mother sat at the head, reading the paper. Lily was buttering toast like nothing happened. I walked in silently and sat down.

Verify captcha to read the contentVerify