In Love With My Bully-Chapter 74: The Truth Unveiled

I stared at him, my breath quickening as my mind caught up with what he had just said.

He remembered.

The realization hit me like a punch to the gut. My stomach danced with joy, but my chest tightened knowing he kept the big moment from me. I didn’t need him to confirm my suspicions; I knew in my gut, and the last thing he said.

Why had he still been pretending? I mean, I knew he had changed; he was almost back to his usual self, but I just thought he was warming up to the idea of me. Or as I would prefer to believe, some inner part of him realized he once loved me.

I pulled back away from him, but his grip around me tightened like he could sense I was just about to push him away.

"Richard." My voice was soft, careful, and fragile as I was torn between being happy and pissed. "How long?"

He stared ahead and opened his mouth to say something but didn’t. Was he searching for the right words? Was he planning to lie? He was just in my bed last night, the first time since all hell broke loose, and he didn’t think I deserved to know that his memories were back?

I forced myself out of his hold, feeling like I had been drenched in cold water. "How long, Richard?"

He ran his hand down his face before responding like a child that had been caught in a lie. "Since your accident."

I gasped. "Since my accident?" My voice rose in anger and disbelief. "You mean to tell me that all this time you have been pretending?"

I saw the mix of guilt and frustration in his eyes, a tired and desperate man. But he had remembered us for weeks now and didn’t say anything. He remembered what we shared, who we were, and there was no excitement. I expected more. I thought that moment would be a wonderful one for both of us.

"I wasn’t exactly pretending. It’s not like anyone asked." He said, "I just... wasn’t ready."

"Not ready? Not ready to what? To go back to who we were or what we were. You weren’t ready to love me again?"

Richard exhaled heavily, almost like he never thought we would ever be having this conversation. "Nita..."

"No." I held up a hand. "You cannot ’Nita’ your way out of this. You knew, Richard. And you let me keep hurting, wondering when you would remember me. You made me feel like an outsider."

"It wasn’t like that," he argued. "I wasn’t ready to face how much I—" He stopped himself, inhaling deeply before continuing, "how much I hurt you." His voice was rough, thick with emotion. "I wasn’t ready to deal with that."

Something in my chest ached at the way he said it, at the honesty in his eyes. But I wasn’t about to let him off that easy.

"Oh, so instead of doing the emotionally mature thing like talking to me about it so we can figure things out together, you thought, ’Oh, I’ll just leave her to keep making a fool of herself’. Well played, Richard, well played."

His lips quirked up in something that resembled a suppressed smile. "I never thought you were a fool."

I scoffed. "Please." I got off the bench, still processing everything.

"Ever since I regained my memory, I have been battling with a series of emotions, and you know me; I am emotionally irresponsible. I was weak; you were strong. I gave up on us; you didn’t back down. I don’t deserve you."

I swallowed hard. Damn him. Damn him.

Because this—this was how Richard always got under my skin. It wasn’t just the words; it was the way he said them. The sincerity in the way he said them.

I hated that he had kept this from me. But I also hated that my heart still clenched at the warmth in his voice.

I folded my arms. "You’re still an ass."

He smirked now. Full-blown, cocky, and arrogant Richard smirked. He got up and walked closer to me. Yup, he is back. "That’s fair."

I narrowed my eyes. "You think this is funny?"

His gaze flickered over my face, then dropped lower. Too low.

"You are still the same, but something has changed."

"What?" fɾeewebnoveℓ.co๓

"You look incredibly sexy, and your boobs... impressive."

My pulse spiked. I hated that he knew he could turn me on and make me lose track of the matter at hand.

I rolled my eyes, shoving him lightly. "Shut up."

His hand shot out, catching mine before I could pull away. His grip was firm, his fingers warm. "I’m sorry, Nita. I should have told you."

I glanced at our hands, then back at his face. "Well, at least that’s out of the way," I muttered.

He tilted his head. "You’re letting me off the hook that easily?"

I arched a brow. "Hell no. But we have bigger problems to deal with."

His smirk faded. "Yeah."

I squeezed his hand, holding his gaze. "Fight for her, Richard."

He inhaled deeply, and after a moment, he nodded. "Fight for her."

His eyes held mine for moments; the burn of his gaze could undo any woman he chose to stare at like that. Who was little old me to resist?

And then, because I was not one to back down from a fight, I said. "Also, just so we’re clear, you’re still in the doghouse."

Richard chuckled, shaking his head. "Wouldn’t expect anything less."

"Good." I patted his cheek, turning toward the house. "Now come on. We have a battle plan to make. First, we have to inform your family."

*****

Richard’s parents were having tea in the living room, with Queen and Chayara in their prams. The TV was on with children’s rhymes playing. Mrs. Numero’s sharp eyes scanned us the moment we walked in. I know she has been rooting for us to be together, and now that he has regained his memory, there is hope for us yet.

She had better days now, but just to be safe, we all had a silent pact not to ever leave the babies alone with her. We know she loves them, but we never know when she will have one of her episodes.

I glanced at Richard. He hesitated for a beat, then squared his shoulders and walked in. That was one thing about Richard; even in his most uncertain moments, he could put on an air of confidence that fooled everyone. But whenever it had something to do with me, he would crumble. I had seen it many times, and that way our enemies knew I was his weakness.

"When Martin said you were in the garden, I thought you two were working on another baby. Doesn’t look like it." Abby said while Mr. Numero laughed.

"Mum?!" Richard muttered, rubbing his temples.

"Someone looks starved." She continued wiggling her eyebrows.

Mr. Numero set down his teacup and looked between us. "What is it?"

I inhaled deeply. "We have news. Some of it is good, some of it... not so much."

Mrs. Numero frowned, looking serious now, her playful demeanor gone. "Richard, what’s going on?"

Richard ran a hand through his hair, his usual move when he was trying to collect his thoughts. "First... I got my memory back."

Silence.

"Holy shit!" Mr. Numero gasped.

Mrs. Numero’s eyes widened. "When?"

"Since Nita’s accident," Richard admitted.

"And you’re just now telling us?" Mr. Numero asked.

Yup, I knew that would come up. For someone who had such nosy parents, Richard sure likes to keep a lot of things to himself.

He sighed. "Because I wasn’t ready to deal with everything that came with it."

Mr. Numero shrugged.

"Classic dumb Numero move." Abby hissed and began to rock Chayara, who was beginning to fuss in her pram.

"At least you remember now. That’s what matters." Mr. Numero said.

I cleared my throat. "There’s more."

They both turned to me.

Richard exhaled heavily. "It’s about Chayara."

Then they both turned to him.

"What about her?" Abby asked, her eyebrows curved in curiosity.

"I’m not her father."

Abby gasped. "Wait, what? Who?!"

"Sam."

The room went dead silent.

Abby’s face darkened. "Oh, hell no."

Mr. Numero rubbed his temple. "Dear God."

"And he wants his mother to take custody of her," I added.

Abby was deadly calm as the room went silent; even the babies were quiet. It was like everyone needed the silence to process their thoughts. I hadn’t spent any time at all with Chayara and had no emotional bond or maternal bond with her, but I knew right from wrong. But with Richard and his parents, that was different. Chayara was a part of the family, and it was a hard pill to swallow that she was not Richard’s blood.

"I just found out today. I went to see Sam and then Gwen. We need to get ahead of this, but the question remains—do we make our move first or do we wait for their move?"