Slept with one Twin...and Fell for the Other

Chapter 26

Bellamy POV

“Are you crazy? You wanna kill my baby?!” Tristan shouted as he stormed into my apartment like a madman, practically slamming the door off its hinges.

I barely had time to react before he shoved me gently to the side, sending my frying pan clattering to the ground. His eyes locked onto the crumpled abortion pamphlet lying on the couch. He snatched it up like it had insulted him personally.

“What the fuck is this?” he snapped, waving it in the air.

I planted my hands on my hips. “Well, it’s not like I can take care of a child right now! Look around, Tristan! I’m jobless, broke, and this—” I gestured around the leaking, freezing room, “—this is my home.”

He looked around. The water-stained ceiling. The peeling paint. The couch with more tears than cushions.

I went on. “And until like five minutes ago, I didn’t even know who my baby’s father was! You didn’t say anything! You let me walk around thinking it was your brother.

Tristan let out a long, tired sigh and ran a hand through his messy hair. “I’m sorry, Bellamy. I should have told you earlier.”

I folded my arms. “When did you know it was me? That I was the girl from that night?”

He looked down at the floor. “The day we went to the resort.”

My mouth dropped. “Are you serious?! So, all that time—when I threw up in your boat, when I told you about the test—you knew?!”

“Yes.” His voice was low. “Unfortunately… I knew.”

“That’s so cruel,” I snapped, my eyes burning. “You lied to me by staying silent!”

“I didn’t know how to say it,” he said quickly. “I thought you didn’t remember me. You never mentioned it, and I—I panicked.”

I let out a bitter laugh. “Well, I did remember you, genius. I just didn’t know you came with a carbon copy!”

Tristan scoffed. “Please. Max and I are nothing alike.”

“Personality-wise? No, you’re not,” I admitted. “But looks-wise? You guys are identical. It’s confusing as hell.”

He didn’t argue. He just stood there, jaw tight, eyes flickering between the flyer and my face.

Then he said it. “I want to step up.”

I blinked. “What?”

“I want to be the father. I am the father. I want to take care of you. Of the baby. I don’t want my child growing up in this hellhole, Bellamy. I can’t let that happen.”

My heart thudded, but I didn’t let him see it.

He stepped closer. “I care about you. About the baby. And I’m not going anywhere.”

I narrowed my eyes. “How do I know those aren’t just empty promises? Like the ones your brother gives out with hand-kisses and smooth lines?”

He met my gaze, calm but serious. “Because you know me, Bellamy.”

I frowned. “Do I?”

“Yes.” He nodded. “You know everything about me. The things I said to you when I was drunk—about my parents, about how I always felt second best. I didn’t say that shit to impress you. I said it because I meant it. A drunken mind speaks a sober heart, right?”

My lips parted, but no words came.

“You saw my paintings,” he said softly. “You saw what drives me. You saw the part of me no one else sees. And at the resort—you laughed with me. You argued with me. You felt something. Don’t pretend you didn’t.”

I looked away, suddenly unable to meet his eyes.

“I also…” his voice dropped. “I also don’t want you to go through with it.”

I raised an eyebrow. “With what?”

He glanced at the flyer, then back at me. “You know what I mean.”

“Well, that’s not your decision,” I said firmly.

He threw up his hands, then put one on his hip sassily and pointing at my belly. “We made it together!”

I stared at him for a beat—and then let out a sound I didn’t expect. A laugh. A real one.

“You’re impossible,” I whispered.

Just as I opened my mouth to say something else—maybe something more serious, maybe not—Tristan’s phone rang.

He looked down at the screen and frowned.

He answered. “Yeah?”

Pause.

“I’m on my way right now.”