FAE #2
My eyes catch it before she even moves, and my stomach drops at the name lighting up the screen.
I look up at her at the exact same time she looks at me.
There’s no reaction on her face, not even a flicker, whilst I try to keep mine just as still.
I drag my hands down my trousers, wiping away the sudden dampness, and try to swallow the lump in my throat.
Riggs keeps talking behind us, completely oblivious. “—and don’t even get me started on centrepieces because if there’s feathers involved…”
Fiona picks up her phone slowly; her gaze still locked on mine for a fraction longer before she looks down at the screen.
I can hear my pulse in my ears. The air shifts, pressing in from every side until it feels harder to breathe.
Heat creeps up my neck as a wave of nausea rolls through me so suddenly I have to steady myself against the counter.
My fingers curl into the edge of it as I try to keep my face neutral, to keep everything contained, but my body isn’t listening.
It knows.
Fiona’s thumb moves across the screen before she sets the phone back down like it’s nothing.
“I just need to grab something from upstairs,” she says whilst turning away from the counter.
Riggs doesn’t even look up. “If it’s more beige samples, don’t bother.”
I force a small breath through my nose before pushing myself upright as I peel my fingers from the edge of the island.
“I’ll be two minutes,” I add with a steady voice.
“Take your time,” Riggs mutters, still flicking through swatches. “I’m redesigning this whole thing without you anyway.”
Neither of us respond.
I start walking out of the kitchen, the noise of Riggs’ voice fading behind me as we step into the hallway.
I watch Fiona move into the lounge and swallow the lump in my throat before following.
She crosses quickly to the fireplace and her eyes sweep the room in a sharp, practised check.
I reach back and shut the door behind us, the soft click sounding far too loud to my own ears.
I draw in a steady breath as I study her, then close the distance between us, taking her shaking hands into mine.
My fingers tighten around hers. She gives me a weak smile before inhaling and lifting her chin as she pulls herself back together right in front of me.
Her fingers squeeze mine once, then she steps back before flicking her gaze toward the door.
“It’s time,” she whispers.
My eyes widen, “When?” I whisper back.
“Six PM.”
I nod, but another wave of nausea hits me so fast I drop into the nearest chair.
Fiona sits too, perching on the edge with that same perfect posture, like she hasn’t just said something that changes everything.
We’ve been planning this for weeks… but now it’s here, it feels too big and too real.
Two minutes ago, I was standing in the kitchen kissing the man I love, smiling at him like everything was normal whilst lying straight to his face.
And if this goes wrong… I don’t know how he’ll ever forgive me for it.
Through the front window, the sky is clear and bright.
It’s the kind of day people sit outside and feel like everything is simple and good with the world.
To me, it just feels wrong.
Everything about this feels wrong.
I turn to look at her as my thoughts run wild, every worst-case scenario crashing into the next.
“What about Roman?” I ask, quieter than I intend, like saying his name any louder might somehow bring him back through the door.
“I will tell him I’m taking you out for dinner,” she replies calmly.
I drag my hand through my hair as I stare at the floor, trying to steady the way everything inside me feels like it’s slipping out of place.
He kissed me ten minutes ago. Held me like I was his whole world.
Told me he loved me like it was the only truth that mattered.
And I’m about to walk out of this house and lie straight to his face again.
It won’t stop me, no matter how guilty I feel.
I have to do it. For him, for Fiona, for my baby.
I lift my head, meeting Fiona’s eyes again. “Okay. Let’s do this.”
Fiona gives a small nod before pulling herself back together and I force myself to follow. We don’t say anything else as we leave the room, slipping back into the normal noise of the house. Riggs starts talking when we pass him, completely lost in his own world, and I cling to the normality of it.
The day passes in a blur.
By the time I reach the bedroom, my fingers are fumbling as I push the door open and step inside.
Everything looks the same. The bed, the clothes draped over the chair, his jacket thrown carelessly where he left it earlier.
I start stripping off my clothes before turning on my playlist and ‘How Do I Say Goodbye by Dean Lewis’ starts to play as I step into the shower.
The water hits my skin and I stare blankly at the tiles before moving my hands automatically over my wet body.
My unfamiliar and forever-changing reflection shifts in the glass as I swallow the burn in my chest and I hover over my bump.
It’s for them.
Is it?
I growl and drop my hands before scrubbing at my skin harder than I need to, like I can wash this feeling off me.
The guilt has been sitting in me for weeks, but now it claws its way up my throat, sharp enough to choke on.
A sob breaks free before I can stop it and I press my forehead against the cool tiles, squeezing my eyes shut.
What am I supposed to do? If I don’t go through with this, Fiona is already too deep to walk away.
If I do… Roman will see it for exactly what this is.
Betrayal.
I don’t know how long I stay there, but I step out once the shower goes cold.
Wrapping a towel around me, I pull open drawers and grab something simple that won’t draw attention before drying my hair just enough that it doesn’t drip as I get dressed on autopilot.
My movements feel distant and disconnected, like I’m watching myself go through the motions instead of actually being here.
I pause, gripping the edge of the dresser as I steady my breathing.
I force my shoulders back and lift my chin at my reflection.
I don’t recognise the girl staring back at me, not fully, but I don’t have time to figure out who she is either.
The door opens behind me, and I freeze before turning and forcing a softer look onto my face.
Roman steps inside. His heated eyes are on me instantly and goose pimples spread across my skin.
I try to smile as wide as I can as I turn back to dry my hair.
Roman leans back against the door after closing it, crossing one leg in front of the other.
“What are you doing?”
I shrug lightly as I reach for my hairbrush.
“Getting ready.”
“For what?” he presses, pushing himself off the door and moving toward me.
“Your mum’s taking me out,” I say, keeping my tone easy. “To dinner. Apparently, I need a break from you.”
His hand comes up and turns my face toward him. His eyes search mine and it makes my throat tighten as I lick my lips.
“Do you?” he murmurs.
“Always,” I tease. “You’re a lot to handle.”
A corner of his mouth lifts, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. He studies me as he brushes his thumb lightly along my jaw, slower this time.
“Are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” I murmur as I lean against his mouth. “I promise.”
He doesn’t move. I know, just from the way his hand tightens at my waist, that he doesn’t fully believe me.
“You’d tell me, right? You can tell me anything.” His voice drops to a whisper as he presses his lips to mine.
“I know,” I smile whilst a part of me dies inside because I can’t tell him anything. “This little one is just kicking my arse. Either that or Riggs’ hyperactivity over our wedding has drained me.”