The Proposition (Hush Hush Duet #2.5)

Chapter 12

Twelve

M y heart is racing in fear of my future.

I stare at the empty red cup in my hand then look at my reflection in the bathroom mirror.

Could I be pregnant? And if I am, would I keep the baby? Would James want to? Would he want an abortion? Would I even be able to be a mom? Can I be a mom? Do I want to be? The thoughts don’t stop coming.

I don’t have a maternal bone in my body. The only thing I’ve parented is a cat when my grammy died. How could I take care of a whole, helpless person? At least the cat is self-sufficient. For the most part, anyway.

My eyes skitter around the large bathroom, wondering where Lucy is. I need to snuggle her and mush my face into her neck. She’s old, and once she passes away, I won’t have anything left of my grammy’s. Tears fill my eyes. I wish she was here to help me sort out my thoughts. She’d have the right advice and walk me through the fog of shock I’m currently suspended in. Closing my eyes, I imagine her face and hear her comforting voice tell me it’s going to be okay. She always found a way to make her life work for her and taught me to do the same. I pull on her strength and courage and exhale the anxieties. I have an amazing husband who would move mountains for me. That thought alone nips away the worries floundering around in my heart. I wish Grammy could have met James. She’d love him as much as I do.

My nerves are through the roof, but I manage to get the urine sample and walk back into the kitchen.

“You know, this is all your fault,” I say as I place the plastic cup on the counter.

James turns his head to the side. He takes one look at my pout, and laughter fills his face. “Yeah? How’s that?”

“If you didn’t suggest Reece join us, at least I’d know the baby is yours.”

His eyes flirt with mine. “That’s the least of my concerns. It’s not his.”

I frown. “How can you be so sure it’s not Reece’s?”

“Six days is too soon for symptoms to show. You got sick right after we left. That was only two days later.”

I stare, unblinking. “How can you be so sure?”

“It doesn’t happen that quick. Google it on your phone,” he suggests confidently.

I reach into my back pocket for my cell phone and begin typing. It says from the time of conception that it’s possible to have symptoms seven to fourteen days, but that it could take a couple of weeks to feel anything. I repeat what I read to James, who is ripping open a pink box. I count back days in my head. Then common sense kicks in.

“So then I would’ve been pregnant before I even got to Belize?”

James nods. “Most likely.”

“Which means my baby got drunk when I got drunk? It went ziplining? It ate seafood?”

My voice rises with each decision I’d made. A dramatic gasp gets caught in my throat. At least I didn’t take a Percocet like Natalie suggested I do.

“Is that a grin on your face? I’m panicking on the inside. How are you so calm about this?”

His blue eyes hold experience, and that gives me the reassurance I didn’t know I was looking for. James huffs out a laugh, and it makes me smile until he says something that makes my eyes pop out of my head.

“I like the idea of you pregnant with my baby.”

“What?” I screech. My throat is starting to close. “Where is this coming from? Since when?”

I must’ve missed the memo, because this is not what we agreed upon.

James dips a test into the urine then caps it and places it on a stack of paper towels. He does this with three more tests. My emotions are all over the place, and there are too many thoughts running through my mind to make sense of any of them. James looks my way, reaches for my hands, then closes the distance to hug me. I wonder if he sensed it. Resting my head on his chest, I close my eyes and listen to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat as he rubs my back.

“Since tonight, I guess. I pictured you waddling around eating everything in sight. I sort of liked it.”

“So you want another kid?”

“Not exactly,” James says, his voice low.

My shoulders sag with relief. “What if it comes back positive?”

“Then we make a doctor’s appointment to do blood work.” He pauses then says, “You should make one anyway, just to be sure. These tests aren’t always accurate.”

He’s right. Blood work would be the deciding factor. I’m getting all worked up, and it might show that I’m not pregnant after all.

I’m feeling frazzled and overwhelmed, stupid for not being more careful with the possibility of pregnancy. James and I never use condoms. I’ve never missed a dose in all the years I’ve been taking birth control. If I was ever sick and needed antibiotics, I made sure we didn’t have sex. We took measures to reduce the risk of pregnancy. I’ve taken the pill for so long that I thought it’d be hard to get pregnant if I wanted to.

James kisses the top of my head. I nuzzle closer into the curve of his shoulder and study the colorful ink that lines my husband’s arm. I gently trace the outline of one of his tattoos with the pad of my finger.

James pushes my hair over my shoulder then twirls it with his fingers. “I was thinking of getting one for my two favorite girls, actually.”

I tip my head up to meets his gaze. James doesn’t say anything. He stares into my eyes with nothing but absolute love, which chokes me up. He brushes his knuckles over my cheek then cups my jaw, running his thumb along my bottom lip. He leans down and gives me a soft kiss. I swallow back the lump in my throat and question how I ever got so lucky in love.

My voice is low as I say, “I don’t want to look at them.”

I’m scared of being pregnant. But I’m also curious. It’s a strange set of emotions and feelings to pass through while stuck in limbo. I don’t want it, but do I? I wish I could shake my thoughts away.

“Want me to look first?” James asks.

I give him a look that only takes a second for him to understand. James flips it over, and my eyes immediately scan the results. I gasp as he turns over the second then the third one. He lines them up and places them side by side.

Tears blur my vision. “What the hell does that mean?” I whisper, covering my mouth with my hand. Looking to James for an answer. “Why are they all different?”

Goose bumps pebble my arms. My ears are ringing. Bile rises to the back of my throat.

I’m going to be sick.

Two of the three tests are positive.

My heart plummets.

Turning around, I lean against the counter and slide down the cabinets. James grabs my shoulders before I can reach the floor. He pulls me into his embrace and holds me against his beating heart. His presence surrounds me. The security of his arms brings me comfort, and I lean into them. James kisses the top of my head.

“Sweetheart.”

Embarrassment colors my cheeks.

“Look at me,” he says.

“I can’t.”

“Aubrey Riveria, look at me right now.”

I sniffle, trying to hold back the tears. I love when he uses his last name to address me.

“I won’t say it again.”

I give in and tip my head back to meet his gaze. Sadness colors his blue eyes. He lifts me up, places my butt on the counter, and steps between my thighs. My arms drape over his broad shoulders. His hands rest on the outside of my legs.

“I’m sorry.”

“Why are you apologizing?” he asks, confused.

“Because this is my fault. I should have known to wait for the new birth control to activate or whatever. Then this wouldn’t have happened.”

“No birth control is foolproof.”

“What if that false one is broken, and what if I really am pregnant?” Panic begins to smother me. “What if?—”

He cuts me off. “Shh. No more what-ifs for the rest of the night. This is not an end-all to our world. It’ll be okay. We’ll figure it out. Tomorrow morning, you’ll take the other tests and call your doctor. Until then, we’re not going to stress about it.”

“But I don’t understand how you can be so calm?—”

James silences me with his mouth and kisses me. It’s a deep, powerful, and unruffled kind of kiss that forces me to slow down and feel him. I get lost in the sensation of my husband and lean in, hugging him as tight as I can, needing to fill the sanctuary of his arms. The little hairs of his beard tickle my lips. His palms skim up and down the outside of my legs, warming my body to his. I kiss him back with just as much vigor, and he lets out a little moan. James eats it up. My body comes back to life, and the desire I have for the man in front of me sets a fire in my veins.

James breaks away. Frowning, I blink rapidly, wondering why he stopped hugging me.

His eyes bore into mine with an intensity that sears into me. I know then that whatever happens, we’ll get through it together.