THE CONTROL: An Arranged Marriage Romance by Elena Monroe (ebook reader android .txt) 📕

up in some kind of elite scam that broke girls and replaced the broken parts with more agreeable ones.

He doesn’t know her mom and stepdad were at the center of that scam the way I did even without the particulars Eve wouldn’t give me.

He didn’t know Elias was a Romeo and could have easily been overlooked by all of us as simply corrupted Clave members.

Shuffling inside, I made my way to Eve who was sitting on the couch with a book in her hands— Donte’s Inferno, as her pet snake perched on the arm of the couch like a guard dog. The same book with Braeden’s note used as a bookmark on my favorite passage. “Don’t worry, I didn’t touch your bookmark,” she said without looking up.

A heavy sense of dread and guilt made me swallow the painful burning around my eyes that I knew was something I rarely let happen—tears.

Dropping my body on the soft surface, I let my head rest in her lap, keeping my eyes focused on everything around us instead of her. If I made eye contact, I would see the pain, the longing, the healing I wasn’t capable of, and that alone would drive me to cry in her presence. “We should talk.” My voice rattled in a way that had my jaw so tense I wanted to break it just to melt it away along with the blurred vision taking over my sight.

“Isn’t that my line, Bowey?” She picked on me from behind her still-open book, knowing me all too well.

The silence grew to such great heights it was casting a shadow on me when I rolled off the couch and buried my face between her legs. It was easier for me if I didn’t have to see her reactions tug at the organ in my chest while my eyes leaked my guilt down my cheeks. “I’m so sorry, Eve. I’m so fucking sorry. I fuck things up because I’m not good enough and I can’t forgive myself for that. I hate myself for not keeping my promise to you, but I can’t forgive myself. I just can’t… I’m sorry.”

Her delicate hands smoothed down my wet hair, letting my face hide in her depths. “You have to forgive yourself, Bowey. We couldn’t save each other but we survived it all for each other. Aren’t you still surviving? Who are you surviving for?”

Eve was right. I am surviving and baiting off death just enough to call it that.

I could have just ended shit before I got here, but I didn’t.

Who was I surviving for if it wasn’t her?

 

“You. Always you, beautiful. You’re the reason I’m still existing.” I hadn’t ever spoken truer words in my life. She held my life in her hands, and I was finally giving her permission to break or burst my heart.

Her delicate hands dropped to mine, pressing them to her stomach just below the shirt I knew as mine. If she couldn’t have me participate in this marriage, she was going to wrap herself in me, drown in my scent, and pretend I wasn’t a distant memory.

“You have to stop surviving and start living, Bowey. Maybe for the little one in here.” Looking up at her, I let her see my tear-stained face and my gray eyes fogged up with emotions.

I was a mess, but I was her mess.

And now I belonged to the life we created too.

I meant to clarify her fertility when I couldn’t bother to wear a condom.

Lifting my head, I focused all my attention on her stomach even though she wasn’t showing at all. “Eve,” I swallowed the mix of emotions sitting in my throat. “You’re pregnant? I thought you couldn’t… I…” I couldn’t find better words through the sudden feelings of pride, reservation, and fear.

If there was a crutch for sobriety, it was that confession and the absolution in her voice when she told me she’s pregnant.

“My body has gotten more comfortable working right again now that I’m here with you. I’ve been sneaking food more and purging less. I only stopped eating because of him which caused my infertility.”

I was soaking wet, burying myself in her and trying to let the baptism do its fucking job of rebirthing me into this less fucked up world. “You don’t have to sneak or keep things from me, Eve. This is your home... No refunds.”

“No refunds,” her voice whispered when I pushed her shirt up and pressed my wet lips to her stomach, greeting the life we created.

Pure, innocent, and untouched by evil.

My voice cracked through thick tears burning down my cheeks, “I’m Bowen, your dad, hi.” Pressing my lips to her skin again, I swore I could feel the strength to stay sober flourishing inside of me. It threatened to lose all this if I didn’t at least try. “Forgive myself? Do you think that’s all it will take?”

Nodding softly, she played with my wet hair trying to stick to my forehead and focused on my hands still touching her stomach. “I’m scared too, it’s okay to be scared. I’m a lot like Severus Snake here… looks scary and tough but everything inside me is soft and fragile like flowers. I only ever feel strong when I think of you. We need you, more than you can give right now. You need to live again, Bowey.”

I had spent weeks not being there for her and that guilt was sitting on every sabotaging bone I had like a paperweight.

The thing about surviving is—you get used to it as a way of life. Everything becomes background noise to just make it through each day. It’s hard to snap out of, and she was asking me to drop my way of surviving (booze included) to be her husband and a dad.

That’s all I ever wanted to be for