26. Evelyn
26
EVELYN
I t takes me two days to figure out what the problem might be. Two days of nausea and being unable to stomach very much other than soup and bland salad and toast, before I notice, while leaning up to try to hang a piece of art at the shop, that my breasts are sore. The moment that I catch myself wincing when my arm brushes the side of it, I freeze, slowly setting the painting down and taking a slow, deep breath.
And then I open the app on my phone, and look to see when my last period was.
There’s a possibility it’s just stress, I tell myself as I look at the tracker and see that I’m two weeks late. It happened to me once before, right before finals senior year of college. I’d panicked, taking no fewer than ten pregnancy tests, convinced that a guy I’d been casually seeing had knocked me up, even though we’d faithfully used condoms. But Dimitri and I didn’t use a condom. Once.
It takes more than once, right?
I text Dahlia, because it’s the only thing I can do. I can’t go to a drugstore without Gus coming with me, and I’m willing to bet I won’t be able to sneak anything past him now. He’s watched me with an eagle eye ever since that day that I snuck out to lunch with Dahlia, and he hardly ever takes his eyes off of me now. I don’t want him knowing that I’m worried about this. I don’t even want there to be a hint of it until I know, and I know what I’m going to tell Dimitri.
Dahlia texts me back with nothing but a string of exclamation marks, but thirty minutes later, she’s walking into the shop holding a plastic bag. “I need to show you this new foundation,” she says, grabbing my arm and steering me back towards the bathroom. “It covers all of your freckles. It’s insane.”
I don’t have any freckles, but I doubt Gus has noticed that, and it’s as good an excuse as any to go back to the bathroom with her. The moment we’re behind the closed door, she grabs the box out of the plastic bag, thrusting it at me with narrowed eyes.
“I can’t believe you didn’t tell me that the two of you slept together.” She crosses her arms over her chest as I take the box. “I can’t believe you kept that a secret from me.”
It was mostly because of the circumstances surrounding it, but I don’t want to tell her about that. I can’t imagine what her reaction would be right now if she knew about Dimitri spanking me because I snuck past my bodyguard.
“I don’t think I wanted to admit to myself that it happened.” I unwrap the packaging, my fingers shaking a little. I can’t be pregnant. I can’t. “We weren’t supposed to?—”
“I can’t believe you thought you were going to actually make it through being married to that man and not fuck him.” Dahlia shakes her head. “Did you not use a condom?”
I bite my lip. “It happened fast. It wasn’t—we didn’t plan it.” It sounds like a lame excuse, even to my ears, but I’m thankful that Dahlia is as good a friend as she is. She doesn’t say anything judgemental, or scold me. She just lets out a slow breath, and nods at the test.
“Only one way to find out.”
A minute later, we stand there, staring at the plastic stick on the counter. Dahlia grabs my hand and holds it. “If you’re pregnant,” she says, “you have options. You know I’d help you with anything you wanted to do.”
I nod. But deep down, I already know that if there’s two pink lines on that test, there’s no going back. I never imagined myself as a mother, but I also feel a strange squeeze in my chest at the thought of being pregnant with Dimitri’s child. It’s fear, but it’s something else, too. Something that terrifies me down to my core, because I never meant to feel it. Something I can’t let myself give a name to.
I close my eyes tightly. “Tell me when the result is up,” I whisper, and Dahlia squeezes my hand, holding onto it as the seconds tick by.
“Evelyn.”
The way she says my name tells me before I even open my eyes what the result is. I look at the pink lines, and immediately grab the second test out of the box.
“I’m going to try again.” As if it’s a test I could pass, if I just got to retake it. But five minutes later, the result is the same. I’m pregnant, and as I stare at the two plastic sticks side by side, a dizzying wave of nausea sweeps over me.
“Evelyn—” Dahlia starts to speak, and I know she’s going to offer help, solutions, something to fix the situation for me. But I don’t think there is any fixing it. I don’t know that I want a fix. I think I want the baby, and that’s one of the strangest feelings I’ve ever had. It washes over me, making me close my eyes tightly for a moment to try to get my bearings, and when I open them again, Dahlia is looking at me with concern.
“I just need a little time,” I tell her. “Some time to think about this. Thank you for bringing the tests and staying with me—but I need to be alone for a little bit, I think. I just need…”
“Whatever you need,” she promises me. “I’m a text or a phone call away, okay? If you need me, I’ll come back here, to Dimitri’s, to your old place—wherever you need me to be. Okay?”
I nod, my throat tightening, and she gives me a quick, tight hug. The moment she steps out of the bathroom, closing the door behind her, I sweep the box into the trash and stuff the two tests into my purse, as if not looking at them can change things.
But it doesn’t change anything. The sight of those two little pink lines are burned into my mind, and my thoughts race, as I try frantically to think of what I’m supposed to do next.
If I want this baby, what does that mean?
It’s hard for me to believe that one time without a condom resulted in this—but that’s how accidents happen, isn’t it? One slip-up, one error. It didn’t feel like a mistake when it was happening, but afterwards, I knew it was a dangerous line for us to cross.
That’s why I tried to keep it from happening again.
Do I tell Dimitri? The thought instantly terrifies me, but I can only keep it from him for so long. His father isn’t doing well, I know that—Dimitri has mentioned before that his health isn’t good. Once he passes away and Dimitri inherits, no one will be able to force Dimitri to marry against his will, and we’ll divorce. I’ll be free then. But there’s no telling how long that will be. Probably longer than I can hide a pregnancy.
If Dimitri knows I’m pregnant, I have a feeling all of that will change. I don’t think he’ll let me go easily, if I’m carrying his child. I think, if he were to find out, that the terms of our agreement might change very quickly.
Can I keep it a secret until I absolutely have to tell him? I can play a waiting game, and hope that I’m free of our marriage before the pregnancy starts to show. But the thought makes my chest tighten, and I don’t know if I want that, either.
I don’t know what I want. I hadn’t expected this to happen, had thought that I’d be safe as long as I didn’t fall prey to his seduction again. But that turned out to be very wrong.
I’m so caught up in my tumbling, chaotic thoughts that I don’t hear the footsteps in the shop until I hear Dimitri’s voice, calling out my name.
“Evelyn?”
My heart slams against my ribs. What is he doing here? Now, of all the times? I check my purse, making sure that the tests are fully inside, and yank at the zipper, trying to close it as I step out of the bathroom.
Dimitri frowns when he sees me, and I realize that I must look flustered. I realize, too, that the box from the pregnancy test is in the bathroom trash, and I close the door quickly behind me, a little harder than strictly necessary. “Are you okay?” he asks, and I nod.
“Still feeling a little under the weather. And tired from working on the shop. I’ll probably head back home—to the penthouse, soon.” I catch my slip of the tongue, a strange feeling washing over me as I realize how close I came to referring to the penthouse as home and meaning it, and I hope that Dimitri didn’t notice.
If he did, he doesn’t let on. I look around, realizing a moment later that I don’t see anyone other than the two of us here. “Where’s Gus?” I ask, and Dimitri gives me a small, cautious smile.
“I told him to make a loop outside. I thought—” He hesitates. “I thought you could show me around. I wanted to see what you’d done with the place. And I wanted it?—”
He breaks off again, as if the words are sticking in his throat. “I wanted it to be the two of us.”
I stare at him for a long moment, my chest suddenly aching. I know why he sent Gus away. I know why he’s here, just him, wanting me to show him what I’ve been working on, this place that means so much to me, that’s a piece of myself in brick and mortar.
I feel, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that it’s his way of trying to show me what he can’t make himself say yet with words. That he feels something for me. That this thing between us, that we’ve both fought so hard against, is turning into something else. Something more .
It feels like a tight, constricting band is wrapped around my chest, slowly crushing me. This is everything I could have wanted—and yet, with him, I can’t help but feel that I shouldn’t have it. That I shouldn’t give in…now, more than ever, when I have a secret that I can’t share.
“Please?” Dimitri pauses. “You don’t have to, of course, if you’re too worn out. But—I’d like to see.”
I blink, wondering if I’ve heard him correctly. If the heir to the Bratva here in New York has just said please to me. And I think he did.
Something softens inside of me, that ache morphing into something different, a longing to give in to this. I’ve never had a man want to know me, never had one take an interest in something that means so much to me. The fact that Dimitri is, now, is irresistible. And I’m not strong enough to fight it off.
Not when my defenses against him are already so weak.
“Alright.” I relent, a smile spreading across my face despite the nerves quivering through my stomach. “Here. We’ll start in the entryway.” I touch his arm, guiding him towards the door, and just that small touch makes my heart leap in my chest. I feel jittery in ways I can’t entirely explain, nervous about the secret I’m keeping, wanting his approval of what I’ve done here in the boutique, confused about all of the feelings welling up in me all at once. Hormones , I tell myself, as we stand just in front of the door, but it doesn’t feel like that.
It feels real.
“I moved the consultation space out here,” I tell him, gesturing to the right side where I showed Dahlia, where the furniture has started to be moved in now. There’s a French antique sofa on one side, flanked by large greenery that echoes the shades in the striped wallpaper, the upholstery a soft pink velvet. There’s two other soft-looking pink velvet chairs, and Dimitri walks over to them, running his hands over the back.
“These are gorgeous.”
“I wanted a baroque feel. We’re putting in wood floors, and the front counter will be white quartz?—”
“Why not marble?” Dimitri interrupts, and I blink at him.
“It’s really expensive?—”
“That doesn’t matter.” He frowns, his gaze sweeping around the shop and then back to me. “You can spend as much as you want, Evelyn. There’s no limit. If you want marble, you get marble.”
“I’ll—” I swallow hard, unsure of what to say. “I’ll show you the back. Come with me.”
I can tell that Dimitri isn’t going to let the issue of the material of the front counter go so easily, but he follows me all the same. I show him the back room, the large three-way mirror that will go up front that’s still wrapped up, the dress forms that still need to be assembled. “There’s more,” I tell him, gesturing to the boxes. “Books of fabric swatches, and some vintage patterns I want to frame and put up, and books of designs. I still need to build the bookshelves. If you come out here—” I lead him back out to the main room, gesturing to the other side of the counter. “I’m going to put the shelves against that wall, there.”
I break off, realizing how long I’ve been talking. I turn towards him, expecting him to look bored, but instead, he’s looking at me as if he’s been listening intently the whole time, as if he can’t wait to hear what I say next. I’ve never seen a man look at me that way before. I don’t know what to say. With one look, Dimitri has rendered me speechless.
He opens his mouth, as if he’s going to say something instead. And then he steps forward, closing the distance between us, and his mouth comes crashing down onto mine.