#Chapter 18 - Who’s the Father?

Aldo “I never married her,” I murmured into the pelting droplets of icy water. I didn’t know where the words came from or why I spoke them. But I was suddenly glad they were true. She’d drugged me. Aurora had slipped something into my drink, I was almost sure of it. I hadn’t realized it at the time, that the heat coursing through me couldn’t have been real. That after eight long years of saying no, I couldn’t possibly have changed my mind. But now, sprawled spread-eagle in my own bathtub like a pathetic drunk, icy water coursing down my face to soak my clothes, I slowly regained my rationality. Or maybe it was the tight, angry lines of the beautiful face hovering over me that brought me back to reality. “I never married her, and I’m glad.” My body still burned, ached from the aftereffects of the drug, but my words came out more clearly. Surer. Layla went suddenly still. Her face unreadable. “You left me … but you didn’t go to her?” “No.” I never had. Even with the drug