Chapter 82 #82
Chapter 82
~Shailyn’s POV~
"Aunt Patricia?"
The woman in front of me flinched, her knuckles white around the handles of two Birkin bags. Two. Designer shopping bags dangled from her other arm.
"Shailyn," she said, voice tight. "What are you doing here?"
"Christmas shopping." I gestured to Hannah beside me. "What about you?"
Her eyes darted between me and the bags she was holding. "I'm just... I needed some things."
"Those are beautiful bags," I said carefully, my stomach knotting. This morning's text flashed through my mind: Out of funds. Mom needs more tests. Please send money urgently.
"They were on sale," she said quickly.
"Birkins don't go on sale," Hannah muttered.
Aunt Patricia's face flushed. "Excuse me?"
"Nothing," I said, shooting Hannah a look. "Aunt Patricia, I'm not judging you for shopping. You deserve nice things."
"Do I?" Her voice turned sharp. "Do I deserve nice things, Shailyn? After spending decades caring for your mother while you were off living your life?"
The accusation stung. "I didn't mean…”
"You get to wear designer clothes every day because you married rich," she continued, anger rising. "You get to walk around in thousand-dollar dresses without a second thought. But the moment I buy myself something, you question it?"
"I wasn't questioning…"
"Yes, you were." She stepped closer. "I saw it on your face. Judgment. Like I'm stealing from your mother's care."
"That's not what I was thinking," I said, though part of me wondered if it was true. "I just... you texted this morning saying you were out of money."
"And I was. But my sister sent me some." Her jaw clenched. "Am I not allowed to have anything for myself? Am I supposed to live in poverty while caring for your mother?"
Hannah moved forward. "Hey, that's not fair…"
"Hannah, don't." I put a hand on her arm. "Please."
"Shailyn, she's clearly…”
"I said don't." I looked at Aunt Patricia, really looked at her. The expensive bags, yes, but also the exhaustion in her eyes. The tension in her shoulders. "You're right."
She blinked. "What?"
"You're right," I repeated. "You've spent your entire life taking care of my mother. You've sacrificed so much. And I... I've been so focused on making sure she has what she needs that I forgot you need things too."
"Shailyn," Aunt Patricia said, softer now.
"I'm sorry," I continued. "I shouldn't have looked at you like that. You deserve beautiful things. You deserve to feel good about yourself. And I'm grateful. So grateful for everything you've done for Mom."
Her eyes filled with tears. Fake tears I presume. She set down her bags and pulled me into a hug, I patted her awkwardly. When we pulled apart, Hannah was pretending to examine a display case.
"I should go," Aunt Patricia said, wiping her eyes. "But Shailyn? Your mother moved her hand again yesterday. Just a little, but she did."
Joy flooded through me. "Really?"
"Really. She's getting stronger."
"That's amazing."
"Merry Christmas." She picked up her bags. "Take care of yourself."
"You too."
We watched her walk away, disappearing into the crowd.
"That was intense," Hannah said finally.
"Yeah."
"Are you okay?"
"I think so." I turned to her. "Come on. We still need a tree."
…
The Christmas tree lot was packed with families, all searching for the perfect tree. Hannah and I wandered between rows of pine and spruce, evaluating each one.
"Too short," I said. "Too sparse." “Too expensive."
"Shay, you're married to a Belmar. Price isn't an issue." Shailyn said.
"It still feels wrong to overspend."
"You're literally pregnant with twins. Pick the expensive tree."
"Fine." I pointed to a massive Fraser fir in the corner. "That one."
"That's huge."
"The ceilings at the manor are huge."
Hannah grinned. "Fair point. Let's get it."
The worker helped us load it onto the roof of the car, securing it with practiced efficiency. The driver, Michael, looked concerned.
"Mrs. Belmar, are you sure this will fit through the door?"
"It'll fit," I said confidently. "Probably."
…
The drive home was quiet. Hannah dozed in the passenger seat while I watched the city lights blur past. When we pulled up to Hannah's apartment, she stirred awake.
"This is me," she yawned.
"Thanks for today," I said. "For everything."
"That's what friends do." She squeezed my hand. "Text me when you get home?"
"Promise."
Michael helped her with her bags, then we continued to the manor.
When we arrived, the house staff rushed out to help unload. They grabbed the tree, the decorations, everything except the gift bags.
"I'll take those," I said, clutching them close. "They're wrapped."
"Of course, Mrs. Belmar."
I carried the bags inside, setting them carefully in the study. The tree was already positioned in the living room, waiting to be decorated.
"Perfect," I muttered, eyeing the mini ladder nearby.
Everyone had dispersed, leaving me alone with boxes of ornaments and twinkling lights. I grabbed the star topper and climbed the ladder, reaching for the highest branch.
Almost there. Just a little higher.
"What are you doing?"
The voice came from nowhere, sharp and sudden.
I turned too fast.
My foot slipped.
The world tilted.
I was falling.
Then arms caught me, strong and steady, pulling me against a solid chest.
My eyes met Dwayne's.
For a moment, the world disappeared. It was just his dark eyes, his face inches from mine, his hands firm on my waist.
"Hi," I whispered.
His jaw clenched. "You could have broken your neck."
"But I didn't."
"Because I caught you."
"Lucky me."
Neither of us moved.
His thumb brushed my hip, just once, barely perceptible.
Heat flooded through me.
"Dwayne," I breathed.
His eyes dropped to my lips.
Then he set me down carefully, stepping back like I'd burned him.
"You shouldn't be on ladders," he said roughly.
"I was just…"
"You're pregnant with twins."
"I know what I am."
"Do you?" His voice was strained. "Because you're acting like you're invincible."
"I'm decorating a tree."
"You're risking yourself."
"For a tree."
"For a stupid decoration!"
His voice echoed in the empty room.
Silence fell between us, charged and heavy.
"Why do you care?" I asked quietly.
His expression shuttered. "Because Dante would kill me if something happened to you."
"Right. Dante."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"Nothing." I turned back to the tree. "Can you hand me that star?"
"No."
"No?"
"I'll put it up." He took the ladder from me. "You sit."
"Dwayne…"
"Sit, Shailyn."
Something in his tone made me obey. I sank onto the couch, watching as he climbed the ladder with ease.
He placed the star perfectly on the first try.
"Show off," I muttered.
"What was that?"
"Nothing."
He came down, turning to face me. "Anything else?"
"The lights need to be strung."
"Fine."
We worked in silence, him on the ladder, me handing him decorations. Every time our fingers touched, electricity sparked between us.
"Why are you here?" I asked finally.
"I live here."
"I mean in the living room. Right now."
He was quiet for a moment. "I heard something. I wanted to make sure no one was hurt."
"And found me instead."
"And found you." His eyes met mine. "Almost breaking your neck."
"I wasn't…"
"You were." His voice softened. "Shailyn, you have to be more careful."
"Everyone keeps saying that."
"Because it's true."
"Or because everyone thinks I'm fragile."
"You're not fragile." He climbed down again, standing too close. "But you are pregnant. With twins. That changes things."
"I know it changes things," I said, frustrated. "Everyone keeps reminding me. But I'm still me. I'm still capable."
"I know you are."
"Then why are you treating me like glass?"
"Because…” He stopped, jaw working. "Because I care."
The admission hung between us.
"Dwayne," I whispered.
His eyes darkened. "I should go."
"Wait…”
But he was already walking away, leaving me alone with the half-decorated tree and a heart that wouldn't stop racing.
I stared after him, my hand unconsciously moving to my stomach.
"What is happening?" I whispered to the empty room.
The tree lights twinkled silently, offering no answers.