Page 224 of Hate to Love You

He’s kneeling on the floor between my legs.

The Mafia king of New York city is on his knees…for me.

“I need you to take a deep breath for me,” he says, a gentle calmness in his voice that I have never heard before.

But even in his softness, his words bid me to obey, so I do as he says. Taking a long deep breath, filling my lungs.

“There you go, now release it, and inhale again. Good girl. Do it again.”

For the next few minutes, we repeat the process, with him breathing in and out, and me copying him. My spiral slows, and I begin to focus on his face, and the smell of his cologne, or the smooth tones in his voice.

“Abby,” he says softly. “You should know, that wasn’t in your medical file.”

“What?”

All I can do is stare at him.

I know what the doctor said to me. I’ve replayed that moment a hundred thousand times. I can still remember how the pain, the crippling numbness, and how my brain froze and looped back his words over and over.

“You won’t be able to conceive.”

“It had to be,” I whisper.

“It wasn’t,” he says firmly. “What was in your medical file, however, is that you received a shot every thirteen weeks.”

“Yeah, it was a vitamin shot, to help with my mood swings.” I say, shaking my head, “It wasn’t a big deal.”

Roman stares at me for a long moment before furrowing his brow and licking his bottom lip.

“You never questioned that?” He asks gently, his thumbs still rubbing circles on the back of my hands.

“No?” I ask, confused. “Why would I?”

“What did the doctor say to you?” He asks again, narrowing his eyes at me. “About the shot?”

“He said that it was crucial for me to keep up to date on it,” I say, my brain spinning.

“And did you?”

“Yes, but when my husband died, I moved, I just never got another appointment,” I shrug. “He was the one who said I needed it for my mood swings, and since he was gone, I didn’t think I needed it anymore.”

He sighs heavily, nodding slowly, his jaw flexing.

“Abby, that injection was Depo Provera, it was a contraceptive shot,” Roman says slowly, swallowing hard. “It was meant to stop you from getting pregnant.”

My head jerks back, as if I’ve been hit.

“What?” I ask, shaking my head. “That can’t…I…I…”

But as I look into Roman’s eyes, I can see the truth reflected within. And the longer I think about it, the more it sounds exactly like something my shithead husband would do.

My chest starts heaving and I grind my teeth so hard, I’m surprised I don’t feel one crack.

“There was nothing in your medical file, in any of your medical files, that said you’re unable to have children, Abigail.” He says slowly. “In fact, the notes after your miscarriage said that you were expected to make a full recovery with zero chance of any reproductive issues.”

“But… Dr. Downing said…”

“There’s no Dr. Downing, Abby,” he counters. “Not in the state of New York anyway.”