Shattered Pieces

Twenty Two

"Olivia." Spencer's grip tightens on the paper as he whispers my name.

"This is not how I wanted to tell you, but I also didn't expect to walk in here and find you cuddled up on the couch with our worst nightmare."

"Where is Grayson?" He asks me calmly.

"With Kia. I figured it'd be best he wasn't here for this."

He squeezes his eyes shut and gulps. His free hand plays in a few strands of Aaliyah's hair, the other still gripping the paternity results.

"Kennedy, can you please take her out of here? I need to speak with my wife, alone."

The edge in his tone is sharp enough to kill. He is furious, as he should be. If Kennedy thought she could just parade in here and destroy my life, she sadly underestimated me. I protect what's mine, fiercely.

"What's going on here?" Kennedy hesitates for a moment, but when Spencer glares at her, she immediately grabs Aaliyah and walks out of the room.

"Spencer, baby. I'm so sorry. I can tell how much you already love—"

I'd sat next to him, but I stop when he scoots away from me. There is no way he's mad at me for this.

No. Freaking. Way.

"Where did you get this, Olivia?" He shoves the paternity test in the air. The way his entire arm is shaking... If I didn't know my husband and trust him completely, I'd be terrified right now.

"I found it at Kia and Bryce's house. Kennedy stopped by there before coming here. She probably doesn't even realize she left it there, but it doesn't matter because we have it, and we're free now. It's just me, you, and Grayson. Things are the way they were always supposed to be."

He looks over to me, and his eyes are flooded with hurt. He's falling to pieces right in front of me. I reach for him, but again he pulls away from me.

"I'm sorry, baby, I really am."

"Are you?" His voice is cold enough to burn. His eyes are locked on me, and it's almost like his hold is restricting me. I want to speak. I want to move, but I'm stuck.

He slides the paper back to me, and the moment my hand touches his, his gaze becomes softer. Whatever guard he threw up, my touch chipped away at it just a little. Our connection was warm enough to thaw a bit of the ice.

"What does that first line say, Olivia?"

Is he really going to torture himself like this and make me read line for line?

"Spen—"

"What does it say?" He calmly cuts me off.

"Paternal sample: blood type," my voice is shaky, and my hands feel clammy.

"What's the blood type, Olivia?"

"B... B positive."

"And what's my blood type, Olivia?"

"Spencer." I sigh and fold the paper in half, no longer wanting to look at it.

"Don't go quiet on me now, baby. What's my blood type?" He continues to push the issue.

"A negative. The same as mine."

"A negative. The same as yours, the same as Grayson's, the same as Aaliyah's."

"Spencer. I..."

"You? You saw a piece of paper that gave you the reality you wanted, and you ran with it? Do you really think I'm stupid enough to trust Kennedy to oversee the paternity test? Do you really think I value our family so little that I wouldn't be 100% certain that little girl is mine before fighting to bring her into our lives?"