Chapter 4 Chapter 4: Why are You Upset?
Catherine’s P.O.V
I blinked at him, my chest rising and falling too fast, because I could not believe what he had just said…what he had just done. Xavier looked at me like I was the one who had suddenly lost my mind.
“What? What did you just say?”
“Why are you upset over this?” he repeated, his brows pulled together like I was speaking a foreign language. “Catherine, I honestly thought you would be happy.”
“Happy?” My voice cracked, and I hated that it did. “Xavier, they’re not even using my egg. That child…it’s not a part of me. And your mother just…just announced it like a hostess revealing a new flavor of champagne. How could I possibly be happy?”
He exhaled sharply, glancing over his shoulder as if the conversation was becoming an inconvenience.
“Cathy, don’t start. Not here.”
“No,” I said, stepping closer, lowering my voice even though it trembled. “You don’t get to say that. This was a huge decision…our decision and you let your mother make it public before even telling me. Do you understand what that did to me? How humiliating that was?”
His jaw tightened. “I didn’t think you’d react like this,” he muttered. “I genuinely thought you’d be relieved.”
“Relieved?” I repeated, staring at him like he’d grown two heads. “Relieved that another woman will be carrying a child that isn’t biologically mine? Relieved that everyone knows before I do? Relieved that I’m standing there smiling like an idiot while Lydia announces to the world that my womb is basically useless?”
His eyes flashed. “Don’t exaggerate. My mother didn’t say that.”
“She didn’t have to,” I snapped. “She’s been saying it in every way she can for six years.”
He rubbed his temples, looking more annoyed than concerned. “Catherine, you’re overreacting. We’ll talk about this at home, alright? Right now is not the time or place.”
“It wasn’t the time or place for her announcement either,” I whispered harshly. “But that didn’t stop her.”
He sighed again, deeper this time, like he was tired of hearing my voice. “Just… don’t make a scene. Please. We’ll sort this out later. Come inside when you’ve cooled off.”
And then, without waiting for me to respond, without touching me or checking if I was okay, he simply turned around and walked back toward the glowing lights of the party, blending into laughter and music and clinking glasses as if he hadn’t just detonated my entire world.
I stayed exactly where I was.
My hands were trembling, and suddenly my legs felt like they couldn’t decide if they wanted to hold me upright or give out under me. The air felt too thin, too sharp. I opened my mouth to breathe but it didn’t help; nothing helped. I pressed a hand to my stomach because I genuinely felt like I might throw up…even though I realized I hadn’t eaten anything all day, not with how busy everything had been, not with how nervous I’d been trying to make a good impression for his family.
“Don’t overreact,” I whispered to myself, mimicking his voice under my breath. “We’ll talk when we get home.” My laugh came out shaky. “Right. Right, because that fixes everything.”
People were inside laughing and dancing; I could hear Lydia’s voice above everyone else’s, triumphant and sweet like she’d just won something.
Maybe she had. I stood there like an idiot, unable to move, unable to breathe properly, unable to decide if I wanted to scream or collapse. My chest hurt, my throat burned, and all I kept thinking was he didn’t even defend me, he didn’t even ask if I was okay, he just left.
For the first time since marrying him, I wondered if maybe…just maybe I should have seen this coming. I felt my knees wobble, my vision swimming as if the room itself were spinning. I tried to steady myself, to take a step back and pretend nothing was wrong, but the moment I swayed too far, I felt a pair of strong arms wrap around me, holding me firmly before I could hit the floor.
“Whoa, hey, are you alright?” a deep voice asked, full of concern. I froze for a heartbeat, then slowly turned my head, and my heart nearly stopped. It wasn’t Xavier. It wasn’t anyone I expected. It was Hunter. Hunter, Xavier’s rival.
My chest tightened, confusion and panic battling with some inexplicable relief. “I… I…” I tried to pull away, but his grip was steady, grounding.
“Catherine, seriously. Are you really alright?” he asked again, his brow furrowed, his hands gentle yet unyielding. I wanted to say no, to tell him I didn’t need his help, that I could handle this humiliating circus by myself…but my throat was dry, and all I could do was shake my head faintly.
“I… I think I just… need some air,” I admitted, the words almost a whisper.
Hunter’s eyes softened just slightly, though there was that usual glint of mischief lurking in them.
“Then come on. Let’s get you out of here before you faint in front of everyone.” I hesitated, my pride flaring. I couldn’t let him see me like this…not now.
“I… I shouldn’t,” I said, my voice trembling as I looked back toward the grand hall. Xavier and his mother were there, parading the surrogate around as if they were displaying a new piece of art, their laughter echoing and piercing through me like nails. The sight made my chest ache, and suddenly, all my pride and stubbornness crumbled.
“Fine,” I muttered finally, exhaling sharply. “Let’s go.” Hunter didn’t say a word, just gave me a reassuring squeeze and guided me out.
The night air hit me the moment we stepped into the gardens, cool and fragrant, calming the chaos in my mind just a little. The moonlight draped everything in silver, and for a second, I felt like I could breathe. Hunter reached into his pocket and pulled out a cigar, lighting it with a small flick of his lighter.
The flame danced in the night before he inhaled, blowing a slow curl of smoke into the air. He glanced at me, eyes assessing but not judgmental.
“You want one?” he asked casually, holding the cigar toward me. I shook my head quickly, even though a small part of me was tempted just to cling to anything that could distract me from the bitterness still curling inside.
I stared at the cigar like it was some alien artifact. “Hunter… you really want me to do this?” I asked, trying to keep my voice steady, but honestly, I was borderline horrified. He laughed, leaning back in that effortless way he had, like he didn’t have a care in the world.
“Do what? Smoke? Yeah. Come on, Cat. Live a little. One puff won’t kill you,” he said, the grin on his face completely infuriating me. I waved the cigar away like it was contagious.
“I can’t. I don’t… I don’t smoke. Never have.” My words sounded firmer than I felt, and I knew it.
He cocked his head, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “Never? Not even once?” There was that teasing hint in his voice, the one that always made me feel like I was a little kid being caught in a lie I hadn’t even told. I swallowed, trying not to roll my eyes.
“Never. I don’t drink either. Or…well, you get the point.” My hands fidgeted in my lap, because I was never one for excuses, but suddenly I needed one.
“Ah, so you’re… one of those people,” he said, laughing softly, not mean, just amused. “The health freak type. Always reading labels, counting steps, avoiding fun. Got it.”
I felt my cheeks heat up. “I… I just… I have to stay healthy. For me. You know… my health is important.” My voice faltered, and he leaned forward, eyes narrowing playfully.
“For you? Or for… someone else?”
The question hit me like a soft punch. I blinked. “Well… maybe it’s a little for someone else,” I admitted, the words tasting strange and heavy on my tongue.
But the truth was, I never drank, never smoked, never… did anything fun because I wanted to stay healthy. For getting pregnant.
I laughed nervously, a short, tight sound, because suddenly it felt so exposed, so personal, like I had been carrying this secret for years and now there was no need for me to restrain myself.
“I mean… I’ve just always been careful, and I thought it was… important. But now… well…” I trailed off, letting the thought hang.
He leaned back again, his grin teasing and smug. “But now?” he prompted. “Now what, Cat?” I caught myself smiling, a little mischievous myself this time, feeling the tiniest thrill in the absurdity of it all.
“Now…” I said slowly, looking at the cigar again like it was calling me by name, “I don’t need to worry about it anymore.” Because of the surrogate…I didn't add.
Hunter’s grin widened, and he held out the cigar again, this time with a ceremonious flourish, like he was offering me a crown.
“Well, that’s a first. A woman admitting she can break the rules,” he said, his voice low, teasing. I felt a strange flutter in my chest and hesitated, my hand hovering over the cigar like I was scared it might bite.
“Are you really going to do it?” he asked, watching me like a hawk. “I mean… it’s not just a smoke, it’s symbolic. You’re stepping into the wild side, Catherine Hanshaw. Are you ready for that?”
I laughed, a short, incredulous burst, not realizing that Hunter had just used my maiden surname instead of Dalton.
“The wild side? It’s a cigar, Hunter. Not a bungee jump.”
He raised an eyebrow, mock-offended. “Oh, I see. So inhaling aromatic smoke doesn’t count as danger anymore? Fine, suit yourself.”
But I couldn’t resist the pull. I took a deep breath, leaning forward slowly, and let my fingers brush his as I took the cigar from him. It was warmer than I expected, and I felt a little thrill just holding it.
“Okay…” I murmured, uncertain, almost shy. I brought it to my nose first, inhaling carefully, letting the scent swirl around me. It was rich and strange and… freeing.
And then I closed my eyes, taking a long, deliberate whiff.