Chapter 23
23
Rowan
I closed the front door of the loft behind me, then leaned back against it, my heart beating fast, nerves coiling in the pit of my stomach. In my purse was the pregnancy test I’d just bought, which I’d told myself I was going to buy two days ago and yet had only managed to force myself into getting today.
I hadn’t told Atlas I was going to take one, because I’d wanted to be alone when I found out. I wanted to sit with the test and decide how I was going to feel, and I didn’t want him standing over me, waiting for an answer.
The past two weeks had been intense and while I could say that living in Atlas’s loft was both literally and figuratively streets away from the tiny, shitty apartment Mom and I had lived in, it was still his loft. And I was living in it as his kept woman — or at least, that’s how it felt.
He’d been as good as his word though, finding Mom a place in a facility that she liked, that let me visit her whenever I wanted, and where she could get the best help. Not to mention telling Charlotte that we would not be attending the fertility clinic appointments she’d made for us, since we would be handling the conception ourselves.
Maybe I should have protested that I could have found Mom a place, as well as inform Charlotte about the clinic visits, but a part of me had wanted to test him almost, to see if he really had told that truth that he would deal with it.
But he had. I didn’t even have to speak to Charlotte and as for Mom, I’d had seen her when we’d moved her into the facility, but I’d felt awkward and strange, and hadn’t known how to talk to her about the elephant in the room — my relationship with Atlas. She hadn’t said anything about it either, except as I’d left, she’d told me to be careful. That had made me want to question her, but by that stage she’d turned away and a staff member had ushered me out, so I’d been unable to.
It was nothing I didn’t know myself already though. I knew that I had to be careful, and not because I didn’t trust him, but more because I didn’t trust myself and my feelings for him. Feelings that were becoming more and more intense with every passing day.
It was so easy sitting around in the comfort of his loft while he was at work, building things and managing his company, or whatever it was that he did. I liked not having to worry about money or the difficulty of finding a new job because my current one sucked. I liked choosing a book from his considerable library and reading, or cooking up something delicious in his huge kitchen, or sitting with my laptop scrolling through college programs and trying to decide which ones to apply for, before moving onto which countries I wanted to visit and when and how.
But what I especially liked was him coming home and finding me immediately. Sometimes there would be no words, he’d just grab me and take my mouth and it would be fast and furious. Sometimes, he sit down next to me and we’d talk about what I’d been doing, what colleges I’d like to apply for, and then he’d tell me what current issues he was having at work. Then we’d have dinner together or sometimes we’d go straight to bed and have dinner later, but there would always come a time where he would hold me, stroking my hair and saying nothing, as if he was content with that and I needed to do nothing more.
As much as I’d feared it, even though he insisted on calling me his fuck toy since he was a dirty talker in bed, he didn’t treat me as if I was an object. He treated me as if I was a person and one who seemed to matter to him.
Yes, it was early days and every so often I’d wonder why he wanted this so badly with me when he could have had any woman, but I didn’t question it. Because as much as he infuriated and irritated me, he also intrigued me, fascinated me, and physically I’d fallen totally under his spell. So much so, it was sometimes hard to think about anything else but when he would touch me again.
Despite that, I purposefully hadn’t thought about how all the sex we’d been having would clearly have some consequences for me. Now, though, I couldn’t avoid thinking about those consequences and taking that damn test, not if I wanted to do this without Atlas finding out along with me.
I shut my eyes, gathering the courage I needed, then shoved myself away from the door. I dug the package out of my purse then went up to the bathroom with it.
Putting the test down on the vanity, I stared at the box, reading the instructions without taking anything in. I always knew I’d have to do this at some point, but now that point was here, I felt kind of sick.
Still, no amount of procrastinating and thinking was going to make it any easier, so I forced myself into action, taking the test out of the box and carrying it over to the toilet. I did what I needed to do with the stick, then, still feeling sick, set it on the vanity and started pacing, too nervous to look at the plastic window where the lines would appear.
My thoughts were in free fall, panic churning in my stomach. Now the reality of what I’d promised Charlotte was here, I didn’t know what to do. Did I actually want to give the child up, because I wasn’t ready to be a mother? Could I give the child up? And if I didn’t, what kind of mother would I be? Mom hadn’t exactly been the greatest role model so what did I know about it? Also, Atlas had said he wouldn’t abandon me or any child we might have, but there was a small kernel of doubt in me all the same. Would he feel differently when reality finally it us in the face?
Eventually I stopped pacing, knowing that all the thinking in the world wasn’t going to have any impact on what was on that stick, so I took a deep breath, strode over to the vanity and stared down at it.
Two pink lines.
The room spun and I found myself sitting on the polished wood of the bathroom floor, my fingertips cold, my legs like jelly, nausea sitting in the pit of my stomach.
Pregnant. I was pregnant.
Just at that moment, I heard footsteps and before I could push myself to my feet, with perfect timing, Atlas appeared in the doorway. Instantly his face tightened as he saw me on the floor and in two strides he was beside me. “Rowan,” he murmured, scooping me up in his arms. “What’s wrong? Are you okay?”
Was it worry in his golden eyes? I couldn’t tell. All I felt in that moment was a stunning kind of relief that he was here, that I wouldn’t have to do this alone after all, because all my life I’d had to handle everything myself and the fact that I didn’t have to do it now stole the breath from me.
I leaned my head back against his shoulder and looked up at him as he sat on the side of the bathtub, still holding me.
“What is it, beauty?” he asked, an edge in his voice. “Answer me.”
I got some moisture into my dry mouth. “I took a pregnancy test.”
“Ah.” He glanced at the test sitting on the vanity, then looked down at me, and I felt his breath still. This meant something to him, didn’t it? He’d told me that he would never let Charlotte have any child of his, even though he didn’t want to be an actual father, but was he actively hoping I was pregnant?
Suddenly his eyes flared bright gold. “You’re pregnant.” It wasn’t a question, just a flat statement and given how he’d found me on the floor looking up at him white-faced, he must have guessed the answer.
I nodded, still struggling to deal with the reality of the situation.
He made a sound deep in the back of his throat, wordless and feral, and his arms tightened around me. His eyes blazed with an intensity I’d only ever seen when he was in bed with me. “I’m keeping it,” he said and I knew he wasn’t saying it to me. “I’m keeping both of you.”
Another wave of helpless panic rose inside me and I tried to push him away, feeling breathless and trapped all of a sudden. But it was like trying to push against a brick wall. “Be still,” he ordered in the voice he used when there was no arguing with him. “You’re scared, I know, but this is going to be okay.”
I couldn’t stop shivering. “You don’t know that. I’m not ready for this, Atlas. I don’t think I can?—”
“You can,” he interrupted fiercely. “I know you’re not ready for it and fuck knows, neither am I, but we’ll handle it together.”
I took a shaky breath, looking up into his eyes, the blaze of his certainty like the sun sending warmth into me. His body was so hard and hot, and his arms so strong. He’d held me countless times after I’d fallen apart in bed with him, as if holding the pieces of me together, and I realized that’s what he was doing right now. He was holding me together still and not in a sexual way this time, but emotionally. Sharing with me his strength and support and his conviction.
The knowledge swept over me and all my muscles relaxed, the sense of panic ebbing. “I don’t know,” I said. “I want to go to college and I want to travel. I didn’t have a kid in any of those plans.”
“You can still do all of those things.” The expression on his face was still ferocious. “You’re the most organized, most stubborn person I know and if anyone can make it work, it’s you. But you won’t have to struggle alone through it, beauty, I promise. I have money, so you’ll get the best care and so will the baby. This won’t hold you back in any way.”
“But what if I don’t want to do those things any more once the baby is born?” I asked, feeling stupid. “What if I change? I know it sounds self-centered, but what if I’m not still…me?”
“It’s not self-centered. Fuck, it’s valid to be scared of a change like this. But like I said, you’re a stubborn woman. I can’t imagine anything changing you if you didn’t want to be changed.”
“But what if I can’t do it?” My throat closed with a sudden, nameless fear. “What if I’m a terrible mother?”
Atlas’s arms tightened and he leaned down, his mouth brushing over mine. “You’ll be a fantastic mother,” he murmured. “You’re smart and strong and caring. Loyal to a fault. Of course you’ll be a good mother.”
I let a little of the fear go, allowing myself to relax into Atlas’s strength. He was a wall between me and the rest of the world, protecting me, and I hadn’t known how desperately I’d craved protection from that world until now.
My head was against his shoulder and I tilted it slightly, looking up into his face. “You’ll be a father,” I said. “Are you okay with that?”
A muscle leapt in his jaw and as my own tension eased, I sensed the tension in him. “No,” he admitted after a moment. “But that doesn’t mean I’m not pleased.”
He was pleased, too. I’d seen the blaze in his eyes when I’d told him. Yet I could also understand his conflicts. He’d told me didn’t think he was good enough father material, though I was starting to wonder if that was just an excuse.
“I think you’d be a good father, too,” I said.
He let out a mirthless laugh. “No, beauty. I’m no role model for any kid.”
“Why not?” It was partly a challenge and partly because I wanted to know why he thought that. “You’re so protective and I think you care deeply about this. Aren’t those good qualities to have in a father?”
“I wouldn’t know.” His tone was dismissive. “I never had a decent father. What’s more important though, is whether we tell Charlotte or not.”
Part of me wanted to push him, but I was still feeling shaken and I wasn’t in the mood for pushing, so all I said was, “Don’t we have to?”
“It’s early days.” Atlas gently eased me down until I was back on my feet again. “Pregnancies aren’t usually announced until the three month mark.” He got to his feet too then went over to the vanity and looked down at the pregnancy test with its proud, little pink lines.
“What do you know about pregnancies, jaded playboy?” I asked, half teasing.
He glanced at me. “Hey, you think I wouldn’t know what the early signs are and when to get worried?”
“Fair enough. So you don’t think we should say anything yet?”
“I think we need some time to decide how we’re going to play this, so yeah, we hold off telling her as long as we can get away with it.”
“You haven’t figured out how to stop her blackmailing your friend?”
“Not yet.” He paused a moment, then added, “What she has on him could have implications for me.”
I did not like the way he’d said it. “What implications?”
“Legal implications.”
I felt cold again. “What do you mean legal implications?”
“Meaning, I could go to jail.” His voice was very level, his eyes glittering. “I told you I wasn’t a good man, beauty.”
The cold slithered like a snake through my veins. “What did you do?” I asked, even though part of me didn’t want to know.
“If I told you would it change anything?”
I stared at him, the question catching me off guard, making me very aware that while I’d spent two weeks living with him, talking with him, and being in his bed every night, I still didn’t know that much about what kind of man he was.
But you know a bit.
That was true. I knew he didn’t like being told what to do, that he very much went his own way, and that crossing him was a mistake. Sex with him was intense and he was very much in charge and preferred it that way. But he also listened to me when I spoke, even when we argued, and had no difficulty with apologizing when he was wrong. He was honest and blunt, but everything he did made it clear that while he might not say it, my needs were important to him. His passion and his intensity came from caring, and I knew that at the very heart of him was a depth of feeling that he hid from the world.
But he couldn’t hide it from me, no matter what he thought.
“No,” I said quietly. “It wouldn’t change a thing.”
Shadows moved in his eyes and let he out a breath. “I can’t tell you the whole story, because it’s not mine to tell. But I helped a friend hide something. And Charlotte knows of my involvement, so if my friend goes down, I’ll go down too.”