Page 96 of Adam & Eve

hanging in the air.

Recoiling away from his anger, I’d shrunk back into the hospital bed. The cold tone of his

voice had chilled my blood. I still wanted to say something though, anything to defend myself. Before

I could formulate a response, he’d turned, reared back and punched the wall next to the door so hard

it left a dent behind. Then he stormed out of the room like the devil was at his heels.

I was stunned at his reaction, and for the first time, I feared Adam. What if I pushed him to

hurt me? Then I thought about why he was mad, and I felt guilty, just a bit. Michael had lied to me for

months, and Adam’s wife had tried to hurt me. I shouldn’t have cared what happened to either of

them. In the same sense, I also shouldn’t have cared about Adam’s feelings either. He was the cause

of all my recent woes, but I did care, and it made absolutely no sense.

I chocked it up to hormones and decided I would apologize, if only for my own sake. The

reality of my situation dictated I was going to need his help. With my new medical issue, I had few

options. I didn’t know anything about raising a child. Just the thought of doing so alone made me feel

like I was drowning.

When he returned, I was prepared to tuck my tail between my legs and grovel if I had to. I

would have if he hadn’t ignored me when I tried. The next day when I was released, I didn’t object

when he told me we were going back to the house he claimed to have built for us. I had no one else,

and I was sad to say, I needed his help. My baby had to be my number one concern.

Adam wouldn’t have to harm me if I lost my child. I’d most likely end myself. The baby

already meant everything to me. I had nobody. My child would be someone I could put my all into.

He or she would make life worth living. After showing me around the house and introducing me to

his staff, he rarely spoke to me. Neither did the staff. Somewhere in between all the silence, he told

me that he was now divorced.

Two weeks later, I was sitting on the sofa in his cold sterile house trying to figure out a way to

make my current living arrangement less uncomfortable. I considered apologizing again. The question

was, would he be receptive? I chewed at my nails, contemplating how to approach him.

Just as I decided to get up and find him to blurt it out and hope for the best, he walked into the

room. Tension followed. My neck stiffened, and my nerves went haywire. I sat stock still as he

headed right for me. I watched him as he laid five books on the coffee table. He looked everywhere

but at me. Untucking my legs, I reached for one of the books once he arranged them to his liking. I