Chapter Thirty-Five
ARIA
I buy the test at a pharmacy two neighborhoods away from Serendipity's because apparently humiliation has layers and one of them is not wanting the barista who just watched me nearly pass out over chamomile tea to also see me buying a pregnancy test and a pack of saltines.
The cashier doesn't even look up at me as she scans my items.
Here I am, standing in front of her with my life potentially ending and beginning at the same time and she just scans the box like I'm buying toothpaste. Not like I’m about to find out if Everett Kauffman, the man who dropped me the moment he didn’t need me anymore, is about to become my baby daddy.
I sit in the car afterward with the bag in my lap and the steering wheel pressing into my ribs and try to convince myself this is ridiculous.
Cammy and Penelope can’t be right. Me? Pregnant? I mean… we were careful, mostly. I think back on whether I missed a pill or if I took the wrong day, or if I had taken any medication that might have messed with it but nothing comes to mind.
Yes, I've been tired and nauseous and dizzy and my appetite has gone to hell, but heartbreak does strange things to a body.
So can stress. So can not eating enough and sleeping badly and spending twenty-four hours cycling between sobbing and rage and trying not to text your estranged husband things that would permanently lower your self-respect.
There are plenty of explanations.
I hold onto that all the way back to the estate.
The house is too quiet when I walk in. Every room looks larger and emptier without him in it. I keep listening for sounds that aren't coming.
I take the bag upstairs.
Past the bedroom.
Past the studio door where waves of creativity come and go without a way to control them. Sometimes I paint for hours without stropping, sometimes I can't even bring myself to pick up a paint brush.
Into the guest bath because I can't do this in the bathroom that still smells like his damn soap.
The instructions blur the first time I read them, so I make myself breathe and read them again. Then I do the thing and set the test on the marble counter and back away from it like it might explode.
I wait the three minutes, though it feels like thirty.
It's almost offensive how long three minutes can be when you're waiting for the world to rearrange itself.
I pale. Sit on the edge of the tub. Stand again. Look everywhere except the counter. But then I look at the counter against my better judgement, and the pregnancy test stopped blinking. It has the results written in clear writing but I’m too far away to read it.
I take the steps closer, and then I see it. Clear… with no way to misinterpret.
PREGNANT
I stare at the little window.
My hand goes to my stomach before I can stop it. I feel no different than I did yesterday… And yet.
"Oh my God," I whisper.
I sit down hard on the closed toilet seat because my knees stop being reliable.
Pregnant.
I'm pregnant.
France. The pool. The wall between the buildings in Villefranche. The week after we came home when we could barely keep our hands off each other.
I was on birth control. I thought we was being careful. One in one hundred, Cammy said.
A laugh comes out of me and dies almost immediately because this isn't funny. This is a baby. Everett's baby.
Ours.
That word damn near breaks me.
Because only a few days ago he stood in the foyer and told me the trust was releasing us from the arrangement that was supposed to feel merciful. And now I'm sitting in a guest bathroom with a positive pregnancy test and no idea what to do with any of it.
Does he even want to be a father? How is he going to take this? And now with seeing Sienna and him leaving together in his towncar, this could throw everything off.
My phone vibrates on the sink.
I flinch hard enough that it almost slides into the basin.
Christian.
I stare at his name for two rings. Then answer.
"Hello?"
"Aria." Lawyer-steady. But something warmer in it, as if we were in-laws once upon a time or something. "I have the papers for you to sign for the divorce per Everett request to get this expedited. Would you be able to come in this afternoon to my office to sign them."
"That was quick."
"The prenup you and Everett had makes this whole thing pretty straightforward, which was the plan. I think you’ll find that everything in the divorce decree is how it was agreed upon."
I look at the test.
"Yes, I can come by today."
"Thank you. I’ll see you soon.
I sit there another thirty seconds with the phone in one hand and my other palm flat to my stomach. Then I stand, wrap the test in toilet paper with absurd care, and tuck it into one of the drawers in the bathroom. Throwing it away just feels too aggressive.
Christian's office smells like coffee and paper and the kind of money that doesn't advertise itself because it assumes you'll notice.
His assistant takes one look at me and says, "He's expecting you," in a tone that confirms I look exactly as bad as I feel.
Christian is standing when I walk in. Tie loosened. Jacket off, and his sleeves rolled up.
He looks tired too but offers a smile.
"Thank you for coming on such short notice. Everett thought it would be best to get everything in order as soon as possible," he says.
I think about Sienna and how I’m sure he no longer wants our marriage held over them.
"Right, I’m sure I understand why."
"You do?" He asks, as if I was let in on a secret I shouldn't have been.
Christian is one of the nicest brothers in the group and whatever I know, it’s not important enough that I drop that on him. He doesn’t need to know how much I hurt. This is just his job.
He gestures to the chair across from his desk but I don’t take a seat, I just walk up and see the document in front of me.
The folder in front of him is cream-colored. Thick and official in a way that I guess I wasn’t expecting.
I already hate it.
"What am I signing?" I ask.
He opens it and turns the first page toward me.
Petition for Annulment.
Not divorce.
Annulment.
My fingers go cold.
"You have got to be kidding me."
Christian says nothing.
"Annulment?" I look up at him. "Like it never happened?"
"Aria—"
"No." I push the papers back so hard they slide crooked. "Absolutely not."
I can't tell him that I’m pregnant. Not before Everett finds out. It just doesn’t seem right. But Annulment while I’m carrying his baby? No, I can’t do that.
"You don't have to decide today."
"Good, because I'm not signing these today."
He studies me and then nods. "Just take them home," he says, picking them up and handing them to me. I take them but I hate the way the paper feels in my hands. "I encourage you to read what you’re signing. Feel free to get your own council if you want. Just know that the contract is exactly as it was discussed when we all sat in Everett’s conference room in his penthouse and drew it up.
He was adamant when we talked last that this be as fair to you as possible," he says. "There’s just one small adjustment."
I glance up from the document in my hands that feels like it’s pulling all the air from the room. "What’s the small adjustment?" I ask.
"That your father is taken care of for life, and that the estate is deeded to you permanently."
"Permently?" I spit out in shock. "The estate? The mansion along with all of yours?"
"That’s right… he nods,"And the care for the home so that it’s not a financial burden for you."
"Permanently…" I repeat. "As in forever?"
"The only caveat is that you can’t sell it. But it is yours to live indefinitely."
That word again. Indefinitely. As if somehow, for reasons I don’t understand, Everett wants me tied to the Kauffman name indefinitely.
"Why? Why is he doing this, Christian?"
"It’s not for me to say. But I know he wants you taken care of and I know he wants you to paint again."
Christian’s assistant buzzes in. "Sir, your afternoon meeting is sitting in the conference room when you’re ready."
"I have to go, but if you have any questions or concerns about the papers, let me know. Everett wanted you to feel comfortable with the agreement. And if you need anything beyond that, please reach out."
I grip the folder harder to keep my hands steady.
I don't answer. Because if I let that sentence crack open inside me right now, I'll either collapse in his office or start demanding answers he's not ready to give.
So I leave.
I stab the elevator button twice even though once is enough.
The doors open. I step in, hit the lobby, and lean back against the wall breathing too shallowly through a body that doesn't feel entirely mine.
Pregnant. Annulment papers in my arms. Everett apparently lying by omission on a scale that makes my head hurt.
The doors start to slide shut.
A hand catches them.
And then—because this day is committed to theatrical cruelty—Sienna steps into the elevator.
She stops when she sees me.
I stop when I see her.
For one ridiculous second we just stare at each other.
I move to get out.
Sienna catches my elbow. "Absolutely not."
"Let go of me."
"No."
The doors slide shut. The elevator starts moving.
I stare at her hand until she releases it.
She looks exactly like the kind of woman who would belong beside Everett Kauffman in a town car on a gray Seattle afternoon. And apparently heartbreak has turned me into a cliché because the sight of her still hurts.
"I really don't have the energy for this," I say.
"For what?"
I laugh once, sharp and tired. "You tell me."
Something in her expression shifts. Not guilt. Not smugness.
Then she says, "He's in love with you."
I blink. "What?"
"You heard me."
"That's not funny."
"It wasn't a joke."
My grip on the folder tightens. "I saw him with you."
"Yes," she says dryly. "Because I was telling him about Jeremy."
I go still. "About Jeremy?"
She studies my face, then swears under her breath. "Oh, for God's sake. You really don't know anything, do you?"
That should make me angry. It just makes me tired.
"No. Apparently I don't."
Sienna leans back against the opposite wall.
"What's in the folder?"
I should lie. Instead: "Annulment papers."
Her brows shoot up. "He sent Christian with annulment papers?"
"Yes."
"And?"
"And I'm not signing them."
"Good."
The word comes out so immediately that I actually look up.
Then I hear myself say, "I'm pregnant."
Sienna stares at me.
Then she closes her eyes and mutters something that sounds very much like, "Does Everett know?"
"No, I found out an hour ago," I say. "Then Christian called. Then annulment papers. Now you're in the elevator telling me Everett loves me and apparently Jeremy did something, and I honestly feel like I'm losing my mind."
"You're not losing your mind."
"That remains to be seen."
Her mouth twitches. Then she looks at the folder and back at my face.
"Did Christian tell you everything?"
"I don’t know… what does “everything” mean?"
"If you have to ask that question, then he didn’t." She exhales sharply. "He's probably trying to find the cleanest legal path before anyone says too much."
I stare at her. "Why are you helping me?"
That makes her pause.
"Because I'm not the villain in your story, Aria." A beat. "And because I care what happens to Everett, whether he deserves it right now or not for not telling you the truth."
"He loves you," she says again, quieter. "And if you want to know whether that's true enough to survive all this, then don't sit here waiting for him to explain himself on his own schedule."
My phone buzzes in my purse.
I fumble it out.
Gabriel.
If you need a plane ticket, I'll send one. The invitation stands either way. Come for the opening, show or no show. No pressure. Just know there is space for you here if you want it.
Sienna reads enough of my face to understand.
"Cannes?"
I nod.
She smiles. Not warmly exactly. More like someone spotting a strategy.
"Well. That's convenient."
"What does Cannes have to do with Everett keeping something from me?"
"It doesn’t but it will bring Everett out of the self-inposed dungeon he’s put himself in. And it gives us time for Christian to work harder on finding a loophole. If anyone can, it's him." She lifts a brow. "And if you want to know whether Everett loves you enough to choose you—let him chase you."
The doors slide open.
I don't move.
"Chase me," I repeat.
Sienna steps into the lobby and turns back.
"Preferably internationally. Men like Everett need dramatic incentives."
A startled, broken laugh comes out of me. First real one all day.
Sienna's expression softens. Just slightly.
"I bet my career on him once," she says. "I'd do it again on this."
She starts walking. I hurry after her.
"Sienna—what if he doesn't come?"
That makes her stop. Really stop.
When she turns, there's nothing light in her face.
"Then you'll know," she says simply. "And you'll build a life anyway."
I look down at the folder. At the annulment papers I won't sign. At the test still zipped in my purse.
Then at Gabriel's message.
Cannes. Space. A door opening.
"Okay," I say.
"Good."
I glance back toward the elevator, toward Christian's floor, toward the city beyond the glass doors.
Then back at her.
"How fast do you think Christian can work?"
Now she really smiles. "That's more like it."