I froze, my gaze dropping to that worn, dog-eared test result.
Dominic grabbed my hand and pulled me toward the door, his voice brimming with the excitement of a first-time father.
"Come on, let's go pick out baby clothes and a crib right now."
I didn't move. My voice came out cold—terrifyingly so.
"Dominic, we're broke. We can't afford a child."
His spine went rigid. He'd finally remembered the bankruptcy charade he'd so carefully constructed.
Panic flickered in his eyes. He crouched down, pressing his face to my belly, and spoke with forced conviction.
"Just give me a few more days. Things might turn around soon."
A dense, stinging ache spread through my chest. I pulled my lips into a bitter smile, watching his pathetic performance.
A shrill ringtone shattered the moment.
I caught a glimpse of the name flashing on his screen: Kitten.
Acid churned in my stomach.
Dominic silenced the call and flashed me a smile.
"Babe, the little cake I ordered for you is here. I'll run down and grab it—wait for me."
He didn't even glance my way before rushing out.
Tears flooded my eyes. I stood in the doorway.
From the dark stairwell landing came the sound of breathless moaning—and Dominic's low, teasing voice.