3. Rose – Present Day
Rose – Present Day
I shift in my seat as I glance at the clock. Only ten minutes until my appointment, and Petar still hasn’t shown his face. I don’t know what I expected deep down, but a part of me had been deluding myself into thinking that he might do the right thing for once in his stupid life.
But clearly, I’m an idiot. I called him on the day that I found out to tell him about the pregnancy. I told him that I had made this appointment, a blood draw at the GP that would confirm right then and there whether or not I was really pregnant.
"I’ll be there," he told me. "You don’t think I notice how convenient this is, Rose?"
"Convenient?" I echoed. I almost laughed.
"That you would get pregnant right after you find out I’m engaged," he replies. "Lisa told me she saw you in the store and you were asking about her ring. Don’t pretend you don’t know."
"You think I’m doing this because I want to get you back or something?" I blurted out, baffled.
"I just want to make sure that you’re really pregnant," he replied. "And if you’re telling the truth, nothing for you to worry about, huh? Text me the time and place of the appointment, and I’ll be there."
That was the last I heard from him. I did as he asked, let him know when and where this appointment would be taking place.
He saw the message, but still hasn’t gotten back to me.
I want nothing more than to prove to him that I would never lie about something like this, but I hate that this pregnancy might play into his ridiculous belief that I would want him in my life after everything he did to me.
Doesn’t he realize how crazy that sounds?
Six weeks ago, I intended to leave his entire family behind for good, to forget that I had ever been stupid enough to get involved with someone like Petar in the first place.
And that’s exactly what I would have done, if it hadn’t been for this entirely inconvenient thing that has flipped my world upside-down.
"Rose?"
I glance up to see the nurse practitioner standing in the doorway. She smiles and waves me over.
"I’m ready to see you now," she tells me. "Take a seat. Would you like a glass of water or anything?"
"No, I’m fine," I reply, clasping my hands in my lap. "Honestly, I’d just like to get this over with."
"No problem," she replies as she takes her seat at her desk and clicks through some of my files. "Not so good with taking blood, huh?"
"No," I lie. In truth, I’m not bad at having blood drawn, but the thought of what the results might turn up is a little more than I am willing to deal with right now.
She makes pleasant conversation as she prepares me, drawing my arm onto my knee and telling me to relax as she swabs the area with some alcohol and picks a needle.
She doesn’t mention the fact that I am very conspicuously here alone, much to my relief, because I don’t know if I would be able to deal with the fact that the father of this child has decided not to show up.
I have no doubt that I’m going to have to deal with a whole lot more judgment about this as I start to become visibly pregnant, but I will deal with that when I come to it.
At least I don’t have to worry about my parents finding out—God, I can only imagine the judgment they would heap on my head if they knew the mess that I had managed to find myself in.
Just then, the door opens, and my head whips around in shock. The nurse rises to her feet, the warmth of her tone entirely forgotten.
"Excuse me, this is a private appointment," she warns the intruder.
But all I can do is sit there dumbstruck, because the man standing in front of me is familiar—though he is the last person I ever thought I would see again.
"Ilya,” I say. “What the hell are you doing here?"
"I’m here about the baby."
"The baby?"
"There’s a baby, isn’t there?"
"Yes, but how do you—"
I stop myself, turning to the nurse and offering her as sweet a smile as I can drum up, given the circumstances.
"Can you give us a minute?" I ask her, and she nods.
"Anything you need," she replies. I can tell she’s practically bubbling over with curiosity, but she does the professional thing and heads for the door, leaving me alone with Ilya.
"Now, are you going to explain to me what the hell is going on here?" I hiss at him. "I told Petar to come, not you! Did he send you in his place, or—"
"I came here because that baby is mine."
I grasp the back of the chair for support, my legs threatening to give out underneath me. "What are you talking about?"
"That child," he tells me, lowering his gaze to my belly, though there is little there for him to see. "Is mine. I know it."
"That’s not true," I protest. "Petar and I, we were together the week of the gala. I know it’s his. It has to be."
He falls silent for a moment, then reaches back to press his hand against the door and make sure it is entirely shut.
"Why would he send you?" I ask, still in denial about what he is claiming. "I don’t understand. The two of you hardly spend any time together as it is. I don’t get why—"
"He didn’t send me. He has no idea I’m here."
"Then what are you doing here, Ilya?”
"I have my guys watching Petar. Monitoring communications," he explains. "When I heard that you had texted him the time and address of this appointment, it didn’t take much to figure out that it was a clinic. I put the pieces together."
My head spins. He is speaking like all of this is the most natural thing in the world, like he truly can’t hear how wild this all sounds. But he stands there, unmoving, clearly unwilling to yield his position.
And for the first time, I have to acknowledge, even just to myself, that he could be right.
The timeline matches up. I had sex with two guys that week, both of them unprotected, a foolish mistake I wish I could go back and fix.
I never wanted to see Ilya again, never thought I would.
I never imagined for a second that I would find myself here, facing down the consequences of what happened that one reckless night.
"This is to confirm the pregnancy, right?" he asks as he glances around the office. "Has she taken the test yet?"
"Well, she was going to, before you came storming in—"
He pulls open the door, calling for the nurse and telling her that we’re ready for her.
I glare at the back of his head, wondering if he has any fucking idea just how obnoxious he comes across right now.
I doubt he would give a damn, anyway. He doesn’t strike me as the type of guy who would worry much about what other people thought of him, let alone someone like a nurse.
"You’re ready to take the test?" the nurse asks me, shooting Ilya a look as she moves to my side again.
I nod.
"And you’re sure you want him in the room for it?"
I hesitate for a moment, wondering if I should take this opportunity to banish him while I still have a chance. But something about the way he’s looking at me warns me that I should think better, so I nod.
"Yeah,” I say. “Yeah, that’s fine."
"Let’s move this along," Ilya announces, leaning over her. "I want to know what arrangements I have to make."
I stare up at him as the nurse swabs my arm once more, drawing it into her hand carefully.
I can tell that she is distinctly aware of his presence, unable to shake his stare.
I can’t say I feel any differently. What arrangements is he talking about?
Does he think that he has some kind of right to this child?
He is certainly acting like it, and I don’t know what I can do to dissuade him of that fact.
I hardly feel the prick of the needle as it enters my arm, and the sudden wooziness that rushes to my head as she draws back could just be because of the way he is looking at me.
And I get the feeling that, whatever the results of this test, my life isn’t exactly going to be simple from this moment out.