Atlas and I haven't really been talking after we've eaten together (I found out pizza isn't on the no-go list). I still believe he is playing with me, but at the same time...Atlas isn't the type to play games.

Yes, Atlas can be an asshole. He can be selfish, arrogant. Most of the time, Atlas is a cold-hearted dickhead that doesn't care about anyone else, including their feelings.

Which is exactly why I have my doubts, why I doubt he's playing me.

If Atlas didn't care, why the hell would he confess to loving me? It'd only complicate everything, and he's the type that doesn't want complications. Definitely not when it comes to people, at least.

So...Atlas Storm is in love with me, huh?

"Do you think he's upset I haven't said it back?" I ask Taco as though he would answer me.

Taco wags his tail, being ready for either cuddles or me throwing his toy. I'd assume he prefers the latter.

Atlas has been in his office for the past hour, working. He should have just stayed at work, honestly. I mean, I love that he's home, but obviously he should be at work.

I pet Taco, cuddling him for a short while before I struggle to get back onto my feet and wobble over to Atlas's office.

The door is closed, though I know if I called for him, he'd still hear it. If he didn't, Atlas wouldn't have closed the door.

I knock on his door, entering a second later because I know he wouldn't tell me to go away. I was being polite with knocking, and still Atlas has the audacity to ask, "Why did you knock?"

"Cause you're working."

He sets his phone down on his desk, giving me his full attention. "I don't care. Next time, just walk right in and don't waste your time knocking."

Okay, noted. Be disrespectful, he likes that.

"Can you drive me to the cemetery? Only if you're not too busy, of course." I fidget with my fingers as I ask. "I kind of want to..." speak to my dead mother.

"Yeah, I'll drive you. Are you ready to go or do you need to get ready first?" He stands from his chair, closing his MacBook before he makes his way over to me.

-♡-

Atlas is waiting in the car, which I'm thankful for. I don't think talking to your dead mother by her grave is something your more-or-less fake husband should listen to. Who knows, he might call me crazy if he heard my conversations with her.

"Hi, mum," I say, slowly trying to sit down in my usual spot. When Cody and I got to decorate her grave, Drew allowed us each a wish. One thing we wanted this grave to have. I wanted a stone slab big enough to sit on, just so I could come here and speak to my mother.

The cemetery was the only place I went. The only place I felt weirdly comfortable going. The only place I never backed off of any guy.

"It's me, Sierra." Just in case she forgot or something. I'm not really spiritual or believe in ghosts, but I do have some hope in me that somehow my mother can hear me. Maybe even see me. I guess that's simply easier than accepting a person being completely gone.

"I know, I haven't been here in a while..." tears start to build up and I'm not even sure why. "I'm sorry about that. I was really busy, kind of. I usually just sit at home, but...mum, I'm pregnant. So pregnant, I'm about to pop."

I imagine my mother sitting on top of her tombstone, chuckling as she listens. Maybe even have her signature I'm-so-proud-of-you smile on her face.

"And you wouldn't believe when I tell you, I got pregnant by a man. Not from artificial insemination, as you had your money bet on." To be fair, I was only nine years old when my mother died. Thinking of me getting pregnant wasn't on my mother's mind at all.

"Do you remember our last talk?" I certainly do. "When you told me that one lucky day, I'll find my knight in shining amor? That there will be someone trying to protect me from all the pain and sorrow?" I nod to myself, pretending my mother is nodding at me.

"I think I found him." I sigh. "His name is Atlas, mum. Like the guy from the book you've always read me from." Not one that had to do with Greek mythology. "He's everything you said I'd find. I know we were joking about it as we talked of my dream man, but he is, mum."

I pause, needing to take a deep breath before I'd break out into sobs. "You said I'll need a rich man because they're busy all the time. That they'd give me all the space I need because they're always working. Atlas is the CEO of a really well known holdings company," I tell her. "But, mum, we were both wrong about something. He makes time for me. He doesn't ignore me. He does everything in his power to make me happy. He cares for me."

A smile tugs at my lips. "Atlas leaves his office

because I am hungry and he doesn't want me to order in. He'd rather hand-deliver my food than have me order it, even when he's supposed to be busy. Do you understand what that means?" Because I don't. "He treats me so very well. Sometimes I just want to cry from how well he treats me. And sometimes, when we lie in bed and he's asleep...I allow myself to watch him."

I have to stop speaking, hearing my mother laugh in my head. She would laugh at these words. She was always so happy, so giggly. It's one reason why I had to stop hiding. She is the reason why I had to start living.

"He sleeps so peaceful—he snores a little, but it's not bad. I just kick him and he'll stop. And he always hugs me, even when he's asleep. One time, it got really hot and I wanted to move away, but he wouldn't let me. Atlas kept on moving closer to keep me in his arms, even though he was asleep."

"Does he love you?" I pretend my mother asks.

So I nod. "He said he loves me, mum. He said it. And deep down, I know he means it. I doubt he'd put me first, put me over his company if he didn't. I doubt he'd hug and kiss me as often as he does if he didn't love me. He wouldn't drive me all the way here to speak to you...when he was working."

Sometimes, my mind is playing tricks on me at cemeteries. Right now is one of those times. I could swear I am feeling a hand lie on my shoulder, but when I look around me, I'm all by myself. Then it feels as though the hand strokes down my back before vanishing. My blood runs cold, but I remain seated.

If by some miracle spirits do exist and my mother is actually sitting here with me, listening, there are other things I have to say than talk about Atlas.

"I'm sorry, you know," I say, once again feeling the tears in my eyes sting as they blur my vision. "All the things I said before you died...I didn't mean them, mum. I loved you—I love you, so very much."

Taking a deep breath, I continue, "I was so mad with you...You weren't supposed to die. He wanted me, not you. He came back because he wanted to, I don't know...abduct me. He was never there for you, was he? You knew that."

Again, I can feel the weight of a hand lie on my shoulder. But as it was before, I'm still all by myself.

"He came to get me, and you knew that, too. I now understand you were just trying to protect me, but mum, you'd still be alive if you had just let him take me."

Tears run down my face and no matter what I try, they're not stopping. "We don't know what he would have done to me. There were other options. You could have let him take me and then you could have gotten the police involved."

"It doesn't matter. It won't bring you back now. But I just...if you can hear me, please know I'm sorry. I had to watch you die. He didn't allow me to help you, and I saw the tears in your eyes, the fear. You were mad at me, too, in that moment. I know that. But I hope you can't stay mad at me forever."

The hand on my shoulder disappears again, but just a second later, I can feel it again. Just that this time, the hand is warmer, realer.

I turn to look at my shoulder, actually seeing a physical hand touching me. I follow the arm up until I can see Atlas's face. He doesn't smile, but he also doesn't show sympathy. Nothing but nothingness.

"Atlas, she died because of me," I tell him, starting to sob like I've never had before. "And Drew thinks I've killed her, which, in theory I did."

He sits down on the cold concrete, pulling me in for a tight hug. He doesn't speak, or even so much react to my words. All Atlas does is hug me, warm me, listen to me.

"He wanted to take me away from my mum. She wouldn't let him close to me, threw herself in front of me as he tried to grab me. He fought her, and I stood there and watched. Then he told me if I moved, he'd come back again and take me, but my mother wouldn't be there to protect me another time."

His grip tightens a little bit more, not too much though. But it's comforting, really, really comforting. Just what I need.

"She wouldn't because he held her down and made her choke on her own vomit. I could've tried to push him off of her, it could have saved her life. But I just watched and feared he'd come for me if I did."

"I know, Sierra," he whispers. "But it wasn't your fault." If only I were that convinced. "You were nine. You couldn't have done much even if you weren't in utter shock."

"How do you know?" I ask. "About what happened, I mean." My sobs hit on the breaks, slowly, at least.

"Cody told me. He watched it happen as well. He was fourteen, Sierra. And even Cody knew there wasn't much to do if you both wanted to live. Your mother knew that, too. I doubt she was mad you didn't help. This wasn't your fault," he tells me, pulling away from the hug so I would look him right in the eyes as he speaks. "Sierra, would you be mad if you had to give your life for your daughter's? For her safety?" he asks. Instantly, I shake my head. She's not even born yet and I'd die for her. "Your mother was protecting you. She sacrificed herself so you would live. I bet she was scared to die, but I doubt she would do anything differently if you could go back in time to that day."

I shrug. "Maybe she would take me out for ice cream and make sure we weren't home when he came." Perhaps Atlas is right though. Hate that I have to say that.

"Come, let's get you home, sweetheart." He stands and pulls me up as well. I don't dare complaining, even though I'd rather stay here for another few hours and tell my dead mother all about Atlas. And perhaps apologise a couple more times. And cry. Because my hormones do that to me.

However, I don't think we're going home.

As I look down to the stone slab I've been sitting on for good an hour, my forehead wrinkles in thought. "I couldn't have possibly cried that much. Tears don't do that, right?"

Atlas looks down at the pretty wet stone, then he eyes me just to look back down. "Did you pee?"

I roll my eyes. "I may have a weak bladder, but it's not that weak." And then suddenly...it hits me—but only because some liquid is still running down my legs. "Oh, my God."

I look down at my feet, seeing as more and more water drips to the floor. But before I could tell Atlas what is really going on, I let out one big laugh, not wanting to believe it myself.

"My water broke on my mother's grave."

More of my laughter comes through, but as I look at Atlas, thinking he might find this funny as well, all I find is him looking at me with confusion written all over his face.

"Atlas," I speak, "you need to get me to the hospital. The baby is coming."

His face falls, shock taking over. "Now?"

"Now."

"No," he says, shaking his head in disbelief. "You're not officially due for another week. It's staying inside. I wasn't planning on having a February baby."

"Atlas. Get me to a fucking hospital, otherwise I'll give birth of my mothers grave!"