Pregnant With Alpha’s Genius Twins

#Chapter 147 – Midnights

Victor holds Evelyn the whole woy home, but they don’t soy o word. Insteod, she leons ogoinst him, her

bock ogoinst his chest, his chin resting on her heod os he holds her tight with on orm oround her.

When they orrive, Evelyn mokes no move to get up until the driver comes owkwordly oround the cor,

opening the door ond peering in ot them.

“Sir?” the driver osks.

Victor nods, dismissing him quietly, ond woits for Evelyn to moke her move. After o few moments, she

does, sitting up ond climbing out of the cor. Silently, Victor follows.

The driver tips his hot ot them, giving them o stronge look, ond then drives owoy, leoving them stonding

in the drivewoy in the roin, Evelyn storing ot the house.

“Evelyn?” Victor osks, hesitoting.

“I con’t go in there,” she soys softly, ond his heort sinks. She con’t even bring herself to go into the

home they built together? He storts to ponic. Is she leoving him?

She blinks ond looks up ot him. “The boys,” she soys. “They’ll still be up, ond they’ll hove questions

obout why I’m oll wet.”

“Oh,” he soys, o tentotive relief flooding him. He turns os if to peer oround the house towords the big

house beyond. “Do you wont to go up –“

“No,” she soys, shoking her heod ond wolking towords the porch, opporently decided. Victor frowns

ond follows her.

“Rofe ond Bridgette will be there,” she soys quietly, olmost to herself. “And they’ll be equolly full of

questions.”

As they climb the stoirs of the front porch, Victor nods ot the Betos stonding guord, dismissing them os

well. Silently, they move owoy, out of eorshot.

Evelyn pulls on the seot of o bench, moving it upword to reveol o comportment inside. From it she pulls

o blonket, wropping it oround her shoulders, ond then she pulls out onother. To Victor’s relief, she offers

it to him.

“Do you wont this?” she osks.

“Yes,” he soys, moving forword to toke it from her, his foce ot once full of sorrow ond wont ond need. “I

wont it.”

Inside, he’s screoming thot he wonts this, oll of it, the delicious choos of their hoppy life. And obove it

oll, he wonts her. And he con’t believe he might be on the edge of losing it.

Evelyn honds him the blonket ond then moves over to the little wicker loveseot ot the for end of the

porch, settling herself onto it. He stores ot her, woiting to heor whot comes next.

After she settles herself, Evelyn blinks o few times, looking oround, her eyes settling on him. “Well?”

she osks. “Are you coming?”

Victor exholes, feeling os if the weight of o thousond mountoins goes with his breoth. Thonk god.

Thonk god.

He closes the distonce between them in o few strides, sinking down on the loveseot with one leg folded

beneoth him so thot he con look ot her. He wrops the blonket loosely oround his shoulders ond then

tucks the ends of it oround her bore feet.

They soy nothing for o few moments, him honging his heod, her studying him, the sound of the folling

roin filling the oir.

Victor holds Evelyn the whole way home, but they don’t say a word. Instead, she leans against him, her

back against his chest, his chin resting on her head as he holds her tight with an arm around her.

When they arrive, Evelyn makes no move to get up until the driver comes awkwardly around the car,

opening the door and peering in at them.

“Sir?” the driver asks.

Victor nods, dismissing him quietly, and waits for Evelyn to make her move. After a few moments, she

does, sitting up and climbing out of the car. Silently, Victor follows.

The driver tips his hat at them, giving them a strange look, and then drives away, leaving them standing

in the driveway in the rain, Evelyn staring at the house.

“Evelyn?” Victor asks, hesitating.

“I can’t go in there,” she says softly, and his heart sinks. She can’t even bring herself to go into the

home they built together? He starts to panic. Is she leaving him?

She blinks and looks up at him. “The boys,” she says. “They’ll still be up, and they’ll have questions

about why I’m all wet.”

“Oh,” he says, a tentative relief flooding him. He turns as if to peer around the house towards the big

house beyond. “Do you want to go up –“

“No,” she says, shaking her head and walking towards the porch, apparently decided. Victor frowns

and follows her.

“Rafe and Bridgette will be there,” she says quietly, almost to herself. “And they’ll be equally full of

questions.”

As they climb the stairs of the front porch, Victor nods at the Betas standing guard, dismissing them as

well. Silently, they move away, out of earshot.

Evelyn pulls on the seat of a bench, moving it upward to reveal a compartment inside. From it she pulls

a blanket, wrapping it around her shoulders, and then she pulls out another. To Victor’s relief, she offers

it to him.

“Do you want this?” she asks.

“Yes,” he says, moving forward to take it from her, his face at once full of sorrow and want and need. “I

want it.”

Inside, he’s screaming that he wants this, all of it, the delicious chaos of their happy life. And above it

all, he wants her. And he can’t believe he might be on the edge of losing it.

Evelyn hands him the blanket and then moves over to the little wicker loveseat at the far end of the

porch, settling herself onto it. He stares at her, waiting to hear what comes next.

After she settles herself, Evelyn blinks a few times, looking around, her eyes settling on him. “Well?”

she asks. “Are you coming?”

Victor exhales, feeling as if the weight of a thousand mountains goes with his breath. Thank god.

Thank god.

He closes the distance between them in a few strides, sinking down on the loveseat with one leg folded

beneath him so that he can look at her. He wraps the blanket loosely around his shoulders and then

tucks the ends of it around her bare feet.

They say nothing for a few moments, him hanging his head, her studying him, the sound of the falling

rain filling the air.

Then, she surprises him with a question.

“Did you mean it?”

Victor looks up at her, his face blank. He doesn’t understand.

She leans forward, looking him in the eyes, her head c*****g to the side like a curious little bird. “Did

you mean it, when you said you wanted to marry me?”

“Yes, Evelyn,” he says, the words falling from his mouth in a rush. “The rest of it – you’re right – it was

ridiculous, and I’m so sorry – but that part, that part,” he looks at her intensely and then slowly shakes

his head. “That part was the only part that mattered.”

She looks at him like a child, then, or a beggar – someone who stares at something they desperately

want but aren’t sure they can have.

“Evelyn,” he breathes, desperate for her to believe them. “You are the only thing that I want. The only

thing that matters to me. Please forgive me.”

She moves closer to him on the little couch so that their knees overlap. “Victor,” she says, ignoring his

question. “A month ago, you were going to marry someone else –“

“A mistake,” he whispers, but she interrupts.

“Yes, I think it was too,” she says, “but…Victor, this thing between us, what is it? You left your mate for

me,” she says, shaking her head.

In all of their years of life, in anything they’d ever read, neither Victor or Evelyn had ever encountered a

love between two people that superseded a mating. Affairs, yes, but someone leaving their mate to be

with someone else who they claimed to love more? It was utterly unheard of.

And Evelyn had never been mated, so she couldn’t know, but Victor knows how it feels. So he tells her.

“Evelyn, every bit of this,” he says, gesturing between them, “is more intense than anything that I felt for

Amelia. And it’s not just that she wasn’t a good person,” he says, shaking his head. “I think that…her

cruelty towards the boys was, in some way, a gift. Because even if I had married her that day?”

He stares at Evelyn, looking her in the eye. “It wouldn’t have stuck. Every day, every moment, this thing

between us would have grown.”

She nods, understanding. “But what is it?”

Victor shakes his head, looking down, feeling exhausted by it all – by the night, the unanswered

questions, the mystery of this thing. He simply doesn’t know. But he feels a great relief, a soothing balm

spread across his weary heart as he watches her hand move slowly forward to take his own.

Evelyn slips her fingers between his, intertwining them until their hands are locked together, holding

fast.

“I do want it too, you know,” Evelyn says, and he looks up at her face them, hope moving through him

like cool water. “I want all of it. I want to build our life, I want to marry you,” she says, her voice soft, but

everything she says ringing true true true in his heart.

Then, she surprises him with a question.

“Did you mean it?”

“But,” she says the word gently, leaning forward. “We need more time, Victor.”

“But,” she says the word gently, leaning forward. “We need more time, Victor.”

He nods, understanding.

“We need to know what this is,” she says softly. “And we need to do it when suits us. Never for the

pack, or for politics, or for anyone else.” She takes his second hand in hers, their four hands joined

together in front of each other like a covenant.

Victor tries a tentative smile and she returns it tenfold, filling him with relief. “I’m so sorry, Evelyn,” he

says, “I did it so wrong.” He shakes his head at himself as he stares at her, marveling at what a

complete i***t he had been.

“It’s all right, Victor,” she says, brushing his cheek with her fingers. “You were really stupid. But I forgive

you.”

He laughs at that, and catches her hand again, never wanting to let it go. Evelyn laughs too and shifts

her position, moving across the seat to curl up in his lap, resting her head in the space between his

shoulder and neck. They sit that way for a long while, time passing slowly, the sound of the rain the

only witness to their calm.

“I’m going to ask you again someday,” Victor murmurs quietly against her hair. “And that time, I’m going

to get it right.”

“You’d better,” she whispers back. “And Victor?”

He hmms, letting her know he’s paying attention.

She sits up, facing him so that he knows she’s serious. He blinks patiently, waiting.

“Victor,” she says, putting a hand against his chest gravely. “Victor, I want a really big ring.”

He bursts out laughing, grabbing her then in a hug and pulling her playfully against him, relishing the

sound of her laughter ringing through the night air.

“Seriously, Evelyn?” he says, teasing her. “Did you think I got you a little ring? Have you met me?”

“No, seriously!” She says, pushing against him playfully. “Whatever you think is a big ring, like, double

it, Victor! I want my hand to be dragging on the ground – I want old ladies to whisper about how gaudy I

am behind my back –“

He roars with laughter at this, pulling her close, until they’re both shaking with mirth. Then, slowly, they

begin to calm down, only to catch each other’s eyes and laugh again until their cheeks hurt from

smiling so much.

When they’ve calmed down enough to risk it, Victor captures her face in her hands. “Whatever you

want, Evelyn,” he says, joyful and seriously at once. “If you want a diamond as big as a brick to sink

you to the bottom of the sea, that’s what you’ll have.”

With that, he kisses her, slowly, deeply, full of promise.

When they finally break apart, she rests her head again on his chest. “When you ask,” she murmurs.

“My answer will be yes.”

Happy – perhaps happier than he’s ever been – Victor leans his head back against the wicker of the

loveseat. And, just like that, they both quietly fall asleep.