His Wife: Chapter 20

My heart is lodged in my throat as I count the weeks on my fingers. I’m trying my best not to panic, taking one deep breath at a time, allowing the oxygen to reach my lungs. I keep telling myself there’s a reasonable explanation for this apart from the obvious. There has to be.

I’m never late. Ever.

I stare at my birth control pills, and it only confirms it. I’m late. Really fucking late.

“Jesus,” I curse, pulling my fingers through my hair, flipping it over my shoulder. The knots in my stomach keep twisting tighter and tighter, my mind reeling with thoughts, yet not a single one makes any sense.

I’ve taken my pills every single day. Religiously. Alexius has been making sure I have a replacement pack at the end of each month, being just as cautious. Yet here I am with a gut full of dread, counting weeks, and it’s not adding up. At all.

Maybe I’m not pregnant.

Maybe I’m just stressed, or my body is going through some out-of-whack hormonal change. That could explain the on-and-off nausea and tender breasts.

Oh, God. I’m pregnant.

“Shit.”

I grab the birth control and shove it back in my bedside drawer like it’s a child who didn’t do what they were told and now gets to have a time-out. “Shit. Shit. Shit.”

I bury my face in my palms as I sit on the edge of the bed. I have to be sure. But how? Alexius has eyes and ears on me twenty-four-seven. Since we came back from Rome, Alexius has doubled security here at the house. Mira and I aren’t even allowed to leave without giving Maximo a day’s notice so he can put the necessary protection in place. It’s been insane. But after Mira overheard a conversation about murders at the clubs, we’ve been less inclined to complain about the muscle following us around.

Mira.

I have to tell her. She’s the only one who’ll know how to get a pregnancy test smuggled in without Alexius knowing. I can’t tell him if I’m not one hundred percent sure.

Or ninety-nine percent. Fuck.

There’s a knock on the door, and I almost jump out of my skin as I leap to my feet.

“Leandra, are you in there?”

Thank God. It’s Mira. “Yeah.” I rush to open the door, glancing up and down the hallway before grabbing her hand and pulling her inside.

“Whoa.” She rights herself as I shut the door. “I just wanted to ask you if you’d like to have lunch on the porch. It’s a beautiful day outside. Wait.” She stills, raking her gaze up and down my face like she’ll get any answers in my expression. “What’s wrong?”

“I, um…” I scratch the scar behind my ear, nerves pressing air from my lungs. “I need to ask you a favor.”

“Sure. Anything.” Her forehead is creased with concern as she studies me. “What’s going on?”

My nervous fingers travel to the back of my neck. “You have to swear to me you won’t tell a soul.”

“Jesus, Leandra.” She inches closer, her eyes narrowed. “What’s going on?”

“Promise me, Mira.”

“Yes, of course. I promise. What is it?”

I brush past her, crossing my arms as if hugging myself is possible. “I, um…” I turn back but don’t look at her as I struggle to form one simple sentence.

“Spit it out,” Mira urges, and I finally gather the courage to look her in the eye.

“I need you to get something for me without anyone knowing.”

Mira’s green eyes widen, her cheeks suddenly pale, contrasting with her blood-red lips. “Are you on drugs?”

“What?”

“Because if you are, I can’t help you there. I once tried to get some ecstasy into the house, and it got hand delivered by my brother. And I mean it literally when I say hand-delivered. The pills were still in the dealer’s hand…the hand my brother cut off.” She shrugs like something just slithered over her grave, and my stomach turns with the visual. “God, it was so disgusting. I threw up all over Maximo and that fucking severed hand. All bloody, and it was this ghastly color, while the fingers were so…so stiff, like they’d been frozen. Not to mention the smell. My God, it was horrid.” She gags…and I run for the bathroom, making it just in time to avoid cleaning vomit off the marble floors.

Mira comes rushing in while I’m hunched over the toilet, heaving out the fruit and granola parfait I had for breakfast.

“Are you okay?” She looks at me with a mixture of worry and pity.

“No,” I answer truthfully, sitting down on my ass, clutching the toilet bowl.

“What’s wro—” She gasps. “Oh, my God, you’re pregnant.”

I frown up at her. “I throw up, and your first guess is I’m pregnant? Maybe the berries in the parfait weren’t fresh. Or maybe I have a bug. Or maybe it’s the visual of the severed hand that has me hanging over the damn toilet.”

“Nope. Nah-ah.” Mira crosses her arms, staring down at the mess I am on the floor. “You’ve been glowing lately.”

I frown. “Glowing? I’m throwing up, for God’s sake.”

“Still, you’ve had this glow,” she waves her hand in front of me, “ever since you came back from Rome. I just thought it was because you’re ridiculously happy and getting the crap fucked out of you every goddamn night. But now.” She pauses like she’s taking a moment for it all to sink in. “You’re pregnant…aren’t you?”

I wipe my mouth with some toilet paper before flushing and pulling myself off the floor, reaching for the mouthwash and gargling like my life depends on it. Once the rancid, gall-bitter taste is out of my mouth, I turn to face Mira, who is still staring at me—eyes wide and red lips parted.

I take a few breaths, leaning back against the bathroom sink. “That’s what I need your help with. I need to get a pregnancy test without anyone knowing.”

“Alexius doesn’t know?”

I shake my head, placing my hand in front of my mouth, still trying to catch my breath. “And I don’t want to tell him unless I’m sure.”

Mira sits on the bathtub’s edge, clutching the rim and tapping her French-manicured nails against the porcelain. “I hate to sound like a mother right now, but you two haven’t been…you know, safe?”

“We have. I have.” I start pacing. “I’m on birth control, have been for years.”

Mira scowls. “But Alexius was your first?”

“Yes. He was.” I still in front of her. “You don’t live in a neighborhood I grew up in as a teenager without being on birth control.” I glance over her shoulders, staring into nothing. “The last thing you want is to be pregnant after you—”

“I get it,” Mira interrupts. It’s probably just as hard for her to hear as it is for me to say. “How late are you?”

“Late.” I breathe out. “Really late.”

“Fuck,” she curses, hanging her head with a curtain of blonde hair flowing down the sides of her face before looking back up. “Well, at least you’re married. So, there’s that silver lining.”

“Mira,” I start, panic slowly bubbling to the surface, causing my eyes to tear up. “I can’t be pregnant. This can’t happen right now.”

She gets up, her heeled boots clicking across the floor as she walks up to me. “Okay, before we start freaking out—”

“We?”

“You. Before you freak out, let’s just make sure. Once we see two little pink lines, then we can freak out.”

“Again, we?”

“Yes, we. Of course, we. If you freak out, I freak out. It’s what best friends do.” She places a palm on her forehead, her cheeks flushed, but I’m standing there staring at her and having this huge ‘aaaaaw’ moment because I’ve never had a best friend. And it’s kind of sad, if you think about it, since I’m a grown-ass woman.

“Best friends?” I smile.

She glances at me, her lips curving into a smile when she sees me grinning like an idiot. “No,” she starts, then pulls me in for a hug. “Sisters.”

“This is probably one of those moments when there’s so much stuff happening all at once, and it only takes something really, really small to get the waterworks going.” I sniff, tears slipping down my cheeks. “But hearing you say that isn’t something really, really small—even though it’s not quite as big as the possibility of me being pregnant, but—”

“Leandra.” Mira pulls back to look at me. “You’re rambling, but I’m going to chalk it up to nerves and the fact that you’re probably dangling off the cliff of hysteria right now. So, let’s get that pregnancy test.” She grabs my hand and leads me out of the bathroom. “I need to know if I’ll be drinking alone tonight or not.”

Four hours later, we’re sitting on my bed staring at three pregnancy tests, all showing two pink lines. There are no faint or light pink second lines that make you squint in order to see it. No. It’s all very pink. Very bold. Very fucking visible, as if the test itself is screaming at me, ‘You’re fucking pregnant!’

Mira starts drinking her second glass of wine. “Well, shit.”

“Yeah.”

“I did not want to drink alone tonight.”

“And I really need a drink right now.” I pull a palm down my face and mutter, “Fuck,” as I slide off the bed and start pacing. I’m trying to think, but it’s impossible to sort through the maze of thoughts that eventually lead to the same thing. I’m pregnant.

I am. Pregnant.

I’m going to have a baby. Alexius’ baby.

I freeze, staring at the floors but seeing nothing at all. “I’m going to have a baby,” I murmur. “I’m going to have a baby.”

“Yeah.” Mira points at the three tests. “Evidently so.”

“What am I going to do? What am I going to tell Alexius?”

Mira gets on her feet, grabs the bottle of wine, and tops up her glass. “Well, it’s really quite simple. You’re going to tell Alexius that you’re pregnant. He may or may not freak the fuck out, but after the initial shock wears off, we’re all going to be very excited, and by Christmas next year, Santa Claus will be visiting the estate for the first time in, like,” she shrugs, pursing her lips, “ten, eleven years?”

“Oh, my God.” I fall onto the bed, burying my face between the pillows. “Alexius is going to hate me.”

“Wait. What?”

I lift my head and brush the hair out of my face. “He’s going to hate me.”

“Why would he hate you?”

“Because I’m pregnant.”

“Excuse me?” Mira places a hand on her hip, her eyebrows almost touching her hairline. “Did you make this baby alone?”

“No.”

“Were you the only one who enjoyed the sex?”

“No.” I scoot up.

“Were you the only one who got an orgasm while you both enjoyed the sex you were having?”

I frown. “No.”

“Then why the fuck will he hate you? No, let me rephrase.” She waves her hand around, clearly slightly pissed off. “Why the fuck will he even just slightly dislike you because you’re pregnant with a baby he helped make…over and over and over again?”

“I don’t know.” I throw my hands in the air. “He just took over from his father and is probably still finding his feet in this new role he has to play in this family. I just can’t think that he’ll be happy about it. I mean, I’m not happy about it—”

“—right now,” Mira chimes in. “You’re not happy about it right now. But,” she puts her glass of wine on the bedside table and plops down on the bed next to me, “I can almost guarantee that once all this sinks in and both you and Alexius have had time to adjust to the idea of having a baby, you’re going to be really happy about it.”

I tuck my hair behind my ear, absentmindedly tracing along the scar. “I don’t know, Mira.”

“Look, I know it’s not ideal. But at least you two got your heads out of your asses in time and realized that you loved each other before, you know,” she glances at my stomach, “this.” Her eyes find mine, her gaze soft and expression caring. “At least you knew your agreement with Alexius was over and that he asked you to stay because he wants you to and not because he feels obligated because you’re pregnant.” She glances at her wristwatch. “Shit. The family doctor is coming around to check on Mrs. Del Rossa.”

“Is she sick?” I ask, worried.

“No. Well, not physically.” Mira clambers off the bed, pulling her fingers through her honey-kissed hair. “It’s just…she’s not been eating much, and it’s like she just retreated into herself since Mr. Del Rossa died. So I’m worried about her.”

“She’s grieving. She needs time.”

Mira flicks her nails, staring down at her hands, black eyeliner accentuating her long lashes. “I know. I just…” she inhales deeply. “You know those couples who have been together for so long that once one of them passes, the other one dies not long after?”

I nod.

“I’ve been thinking of those couples a lot since Mr. Del Rossa died.”

I shift to the edge of the bed and drop my legs off the side. “You think Mrs. Del Rossa—”

“I dunno.” She looks up at me, and I can see every trace of worry in the swirls of her green irises. “I hope not, but it wouldn’t hurt having the doctor check her out.”

“No. That’s good. I’m glad you’re having him come over.”

“Yeah.” Her gaze cuts to mine. “Hey, here’s a thought. While he’s here, maybe he should take a look at you as well.”

“No.” I wave her off. “That won’t be necessary.”

“Leandra, he’s literally going to be down the hall, so he might as well just pop in here and check you out.”

“No.” I get on my feet and brush past her. “What if he tells Alexius before I’m ready to?”

“I’ll tell him not to say anything.”

My stomach tightens, nervous tension rolling up my shoulders and knotting in my throat. “Mira—”

She rushes up to me and takes my hands. “At least then you’ll be able to tell Alexius without a shadow of a doubt that you are indeed pregnant.”

I lift a brow and glance at the three pregnancy tests. “You have doubts? Really?”

“Well, no. But still.” The scent of her perfume fills the air around us as she leans in to hug me before strolling to the door and glancing back. “Okay, at least let me make an appointment for you to go see him.”

“Okay.” I nod and clutch my arms around my middle.

“Good.” She smiles. “It’s going to be okay. I promise.” The way she looks at me, her eyes two glistening emeralds, somehow manages to ease the panic just a little bit. Kindness always radiates from her as if you could see her heart in her smile.

“Thanks, Mira.”