Copyright 2018 by Colleen Hoover

if he was being a major fucking douche.
I shoved my chair under the table and walked to the bedroom. He was pacing
back and forth. When I closed the door behind me, he looked up and paused. He
was trying so hard in that moment to put his words in order—everything he
needed to say to me. As angry as I was at him for throwing the meal I had
worked so hard making for him, I felt bad that he was upset.
“It’s constant, Verity,” he said. “You talk about her constantly. You never
talk about Harper. You never tell me what Harper learned in school or how
Harper’s doing with potty training or all the cute things Harper said. It’s Chastin,
all the time, every day.”
Shit. Even with how much I try to hide it, he still sees it. “That’s not true,” I
said.
“It is true. And I’ve tried to keep my mouth shut, but they’re getting older.
Harper’s going to notice that you treat them differently. It isn’t fair to her.”
I wasn’t sure how to get out of that predicament. I could have gotten
defensive, accused him of something I didn’t like. But I knew he was right, so I
needed to find a way to make him think he was wrong. Luckily, he turned away
from me, so it gave me a moment to think. I looked up, like I was turning to God
for advice. Stupid, girl. God won’t help you out of this one.
I stepped forward, cautiously. “Baby. It’s not that I like Chastin more. She’s
just…smarter than Harper. So she accomplishes things first.”
He spins around, angrier than before I even opened my mouth. “Chastin isn’t
smarter than Harper. They’re different. But Harper is very intelligent.”
“I know that,” I said, taking another step toward him. I kept my voice low.
Sweet. Unoffended. “That’s not what I meant. I meant…it’s easier for me to
have a reaction to what Chastin does because Chastin likes that. She’s animated,
like me. Harper isn’t. I give her silent affirmation. I don’t make a show of it.
She’s like you in that way.”
His stare was unwavering, but I was almost certain he was buying it, so I
continued.
“I don’t push Harper when she’s in those moods, so yes, I do talk about
Chastin more. Sometimes I focus on her more. But only because I realize they’re
two different children with two different sets of needs. I have to be two different
mothers to each of them.”
I was good at spewing bullshit. It’s why I became a writer.
Jeremy’s anger was slowly melting away. His jaw wasn’t as tense as he ran a
hand through his hair, taking in what I had just said. “I worry about Harper,” he
said. “More than I should, I’m sure. I don’t think treating them differently is the

---

right thing to do going forward. Harper might notice the difference.”
A month earlier, one of the daycare workers had expressed concern to me
about Harper. It wasn’t until that moment—when Jeremy was expressing his
concern for her—that I remembered her mentioning it to me. She said she thinks
we should have her tested for Asperger’s. I had forgotten all about it until that
moment during my fight with Jeremy. And thank God I remembered because it
was the perfect way to back up my defense.
“I wasn’t going to mention this because I didn’t want you to worry,” I said to
him. “But one of their daycare teachers told me she thinks we should have
Harper tested for Asperger’s.”
Jeremy’s concern grew tenfold in that moment. I tried to subdue that concern
as quickly as possible.
“I’ve called a specialist already.” At least I will put a call in tomorrow.
“They’re going to call back when they have an opening.”
Jeremy pulled out his phone, becoming sidetracked by the potential
diagnosis. “They think Harper is on the autism spectrum?”
I took his phone from his hands.
“Don’t. You’ll worry yourself sick until the appointment. Let’s speak to the
specialist first because the internet isn’t the place we need to seek out answers
for our daughter.”
He nodded and then pulled me in for a hug. “I’m sorry,” he whispered
against the side of my head. “It’s been a shitty week. I lost a big client at work
today.”
“You don’t have to work, Jeremy. I make enough money for you to spend
more time at home with the girls if that would make it easier.”
“I would go insane if I didn’t work.”
“Maybe so, but it’s going to be really expensive putting three kids through
daycare.”
“We can afford…” He paused, pulling back. “Did you say…three?”
I nodded. I was lying, of course, but I wanted the mood of the night to
disappear. I wanted him to be happy. And he was so happy after I told him I was
pregnant again.
“Are you sure? I thought you didn’t want more.”
“I was sloppy with the pill a couple of weeks ago. It’s still early. Really
early. I found out this morning.” I smiled. Then I smiled even bigger.
“You’re happy about it?”
“Of course I am. Are you?”
He laughed a little, then he kissed me, and all was back to normal. Thank
God.

---

I gripped his shirt in my fist and kissed him back with everything in me,
wanting him to forget all about the fight we were having. He could tell by my
kiss that I wanted more than just a kiss. He took off my shirt, then took off his
own. He kissed me as he backed up to the bed. When he removed my pants, he
saw the bra and panties I had put on for him.
“You’re wearing lingerie?” he asked. He dropped his head into my neck.
“And you made my favorite meal,” he said, disappointed. I wasn’t sure why he
sounded disappointed until he pulled back, brushed hair from my face, and said,
“I am so sorry, Verity. You were trying to make tonight special and I ruined it
for you.”
What he doesn’t understand is that he could never ruin a night for me when it
ends with him loving me. Focusing on me.
I shook my head. “You didn’t ruin it.”
“I did. I threw my food, I yelled at you.” He brought his mouth to mine. “I’ll
make it up to you.”
And he did. He fucked me slowly, kissing me the whole time, taking turns
with each nipple as he sucked them. Had I breastfed, would he be enjoying my
breasts as much?
I doubted it. Even after twins, my body was nearly perfect. Aside from the
scar on my abdomen, the most important parts of me were still in tact. Still fairly
firm. And Jeremy’s temple between my legs was still nice and tight.
When he had me close to the edge, he pulled out of me. “I want to taste you,”
he said, moving down my body until his tongue was spreading me apart.