Chapter Thirty-Two
In which it is important to avoid the pineapple.
Liria…
"What opera is it?" I ask.
"Turandot," Ella says happily. "I have box seats for all of us at the Metropolitan Opera House, tomorrow night."
Both my security and Violet's are at the clinic's entrance to pick us up, where we've been all morning. There are over a dozen men who are still too wounded to move.
Ella, always sweet and thoughtful, thought the best way to cheer everyone up would be a night at the opera. Roman and Alexsey do not look like they think this is a grand idea.
"What? You've been to the opera with me before," Ella says. Her long black hair, is usually in a tidy ponytail at work. Now, it's twisted in a sloppy bun on top of her head, held in place with a ballpoint pen and what looks like a chopstick.
I'm not sure she went home last night. Maksim was here at the clinic the minute word got back to him about the attack. He and Dmitri walked through the sea of beds, shaking hands and speaking with the wounded. I noticed, though, that Maksim was never far from Ella.
Those two. Watching the most intimidating men I've ever known follow his wife protectively - even when there's dozens of his soldiers around her - is so tender.
"I like opera!" Roman protested, the suck-up. Violet shakes her head behind his back.
"Actually, I love Turandot," I say hesitantly, hoping I just didn't incur the wrath of my sisters-in-law. "I'd go just to hear Nessun Dorma again."
Alexsey and Violet are looking deeply disappointed with me as Ella happily says, "Excellent! Right at seven for cocktail hour. Now, you two go home. Everyone is stabilized; my backup staff is coming in."
"I shouldn't be nice to you after that operatic betrayal," Violet says. "But do you want to come over for a late lunch? You look just as tired as I feel."
"Flattering," I say sourly, "but yes. I'm starving."
"Excellent!" Violet links her arm with mine.
***
I blame the pineapple.
One minute Violet and I are having lunch and talking about the latest trouble that her sisters Rose and Iris got into at Columbia because apparently, they didn't know it was the Dean's car that they were "borrowing.
" Then, I'm hit with a violent surge of nausea.
I barely squeak out "Excuse me!" before I dash for the bathroom, vomiting up everything, including possibly several of my internal organs.
Groaning, I rinse my mouth as there's a knock on the door.
"Hey, I thought you'd need this," Violet says, her voice muffled. "Can I come in?"
"Sure," I say, my elbows on the vanity, trying to avoid my reflection in the mirror. She hands me a toothbrush and toothpaste.
"I will do almost anything to avoid throwing up," she shudders. "And afterward, I need to make sure that there's no sign of it whatsoever. Brush your teeth, you'll feel better."
"Yes," I agree fervently. "Thank you."
Teeth brushed, I head back out to her sunny little garden. All remnants of lunch have thoughtfully been cleared away and there's a glass of ice water sitting on the table for me.
"You are a goddess and I appreciate you in every way," I say, gratefully taking a sip. She's leaning back, looking at me speculatively and it's making me nervous.
"How have you been feeling?" she asks.
"I've been fine." I shrug. "It's just a stomach bug or maybe I've developed a violent aversion to pineapple. It looked very pretty in the fruit salad, though."
Violet's trying to hide a smile and I don't know why, but it's instantly making me defensive. "Any other physical changes?" she asks, all innocent and pleasant. "Any tenderness, other food sensitivities…?"
"What are you trying to get at?" I ask.
Leaning forward, she puts her hand on mine and squeezes it. "Is it possible that you're pregnant?"
I can’t move. It feels like everything has rushed south of my brain and it’s too empty to function.
Also, unable to form a coherent sentence. "What?" I ask stupidly.
"You don't have to get into it with me, obviously," Violet says sympathetically. "But I have a sixth sense for these things, I predicted that three of our volunteers at the shelter were pregnant before they did. Are you using protection?"
"I have a contraceptive ring," I say weakly.
Her brow rises. "I would never presume to even think about my brother-in-law's junk because that would probably give me an aneurysm. However, if he's anything like Roman, he probably dislodged that sucker in the first round."
"Oh my God!" I have my hand over my eyes, like that makes sense. I should be covering my ears. "I don't want to hear this, I don't!"
"I'm just saying, it might be worth taking a look. When was your last period?"
"Well," I flounder, "they've always been irregular and worse when I've been under a lot of stress."
"Yeah, I think this entire summer counts when you're talking stress."
I think back to the box of tampons tucked in a drawer in the guest bathroom at the loft. When was the last time I used them?
"Heh…"
That's it. That's all I've got. A single, inarticulate bark.
Violet gets up, pulling me up along with her.
"Come on, "she says, "I know Rose and Iris have a few pregnancy tests in their bathroom and doesn't that make me feel completely secure about their future.
" I hold onto the banister for support as she goes into her sister's room, pawing through the drawers and coming back with two tests.
"Here," she says sympathetically, holding them out to me. "Go use my bathroom. It's the second door on the right."
Washing my hands six times, I stare at the two plastic sticks lined up neatly on a pile of toilet paper. Violet comes in, perching on the edge of the tub, quiet, but there.
I can't be pregnant.
We've been married for less than three months and a lot of that was really terrible.
Christ on a cracker! What if he doesn't want children?
It certainly seems like something that should be discussed first. I pace back-and-forth, my head negotiating with my body that there will be ice cream at home if it just doesn't throw up again, or loop me into a panic attack. The timer on my phone goes off.
"Do you want me to look for you?" Violet asks.
"Would you? I just can't."
She gives my arm a squeeze and steps over to the sink. There's a short silence before she says, "Congratulations, there are two very decisive pink lines on both of these tests. I told you that poor little ring was an inadequate defense against a Morozov male."
I sit back down on the toilet seat, staring at the tests. Sure enough, there are two bright pink - almost aggressively pink - lines as if to say, "Yeah, there's no mistake lady, you're pregnant."
"Would you like to have a child?" Violet's voice is gentle now.
"Yes," I say slowly. "I love kids. I'd always hope to have several. But like this?" Now I'm crying like this isn't all surreal enough. Violet hauls me off the toilet seat and leads me into the master bedroom, setting me in a comfortable armchair and fetching me a box of tissues.
"You've had a hell of a time," she says sympathetically.
"Unfortunately, that seems par for the course when you marry a Morozov.
Nothing goes according to plan. Well, I don't think plans are even involved in anything that seems to happen in this family.
" She hands me more tissues. "Look, you don't have to decide right now, but if you want to keep this baby, you're gonna have to share the news with Alexsey sometime soon. "
My fingers are jittering across my jeans, trying to tap out some staccato rhythm. "Can we keep this between ourselves right now?" I plead. "I just need some time to think this through."
Violet's amber eyes are warm, and understanding. "Of course. The only person who has the right to share this news is you. You'll decide when you're ready. But I'm always here to listen."
"Have you and Roman thought about children?" I ask.
"Well, Rose and Iris certainly seem like they are more children than sisters sometimes," she sighs.
"But yes, we have talked about it." She has a shy smile now, a slightly hopeful one.
"Maybe our kids could grow up together? It would be nice and Lev isn't too far ahead.
You see how much the men in the family love him. "
"This is too much." I slump in the chair, staring at my twitching fingers. "I was not expecting this at all today," I say hoarsely and she laughs.
"Honey, I don't think any woman ever is."
I glance at my phone, "I should be getting home."
"When you're ready, we can get some OB/GYN recommendations from Ava and Ella," she says happily.
I manage a weak smile as we walk out the front door.
Roan and Danyl have been in the guard's quarters with Roman's security force.
When they bring the Bentley around, Roan gives me a sharp, assessing look.
I hastily put on my sunglasses and give Violet a hug.
"This could be a good thing," she whispers. "This could be the moment that finally gives you two a chance to bond as husband and wife. But it's your choice."
I squeeze her a little tighter, so grateful for the family I've found here.
"Everything all right?" Roan asks quietly as he opens my car door.
"It was a perfect lunch," I say, patting his arm. "But next time, avoid the pineapple."