Chapter 23 Zofia
zofia
For the last week, ever since dinner with our friends, I’d been feeling extra tired, and I didn’t know what was wrong with me.
Nicolas had been so damn attentive, doting on me whenever he could, like the perfect husband.
It was too much. The reminder that he wasn’t really mine, that all of this was fake, was breaking my heart.
Especially when I saw how good this could be.
Still, he hadn’t said anything about changing the terms of our agreement.
A wave of nausea passed over me, and I pushed my club sandwich away. Gabbi, Angelina and I were sitting at a small bistro for lunch, back to our usual routine.
“You okay?” Angelina asked.
“Fine. Just haven’t been sleeping great,” I admitted. “And I think I caught some sort of virus.”
“Weren’t you sick at dinner last week, too?” Angelina frowned.
I nodded, toying with the gold hoop in my ear. “I thought it was just a bug, but it hasn’t gone away. Maybe some weird flu strain is going around.”
“Maybe you should go home early?” Gabbi offered. “I’m sure Nic wouldn’t mind.”
Angelina nodded in agreement. “Plus, it’s not like you aren't already ahead in your work for the week.”
I bit my lip. “I guess I could. I’m just so achy and exhausted, and then the nausea on top of that has just been the worst.”
“Zo…” Angelina raised one perfect eyebrow. “Is there any chance you’re, you know…”
“What?” I frowned as I popped two Tums into my mouth, chewing on them. “Sick? I don’t have a fever, so I really don’t know. Maybe I need to go to the doctor.”
“I was going to say pregnant.”
I felt all the blood rush out of my face. Pregnant?
There was no way I was pregnant, right?
Nic and I used condoms every time. Except, well… my cheeks warmed. Except when he’d slid inside me bare before putting on a condom.
“Pregnant?” I murmured, looking down at my lap. When was my last period? I didn’t normally keep track of it, mostly because I hadn’t been sexually active in years, and I definitely hadn’t expected staying in Nic’s bed. I did the mental math, realizing quickly that my period was late.
I sucked in a breath. “Oh, fuck.”
Gabbi’s hand came to rest over mine, and I appreciated the reminder that they were here. “Is this… not something you would want?”
I shook my head.
“Do you and Nic want kids?” Angelina’s voice was soft. “I know you just got married, so I’m sure this is a surprise.
“That’s the understatement of the century,” I muttered.
“We’re here for you, no matter what you need or how we can support you, babe.”
My eyes watered. I’d been extra emotional lately—maybe this was why. In fact, all of my symptoms added up. The cramping, the exhaustion, the nausea and vomiting…
“I can’t be pregnant, you guys.” I rubbed my forehead, letting out a groan. “What am I supposed to do?” I dropped my head onto the table. “Nic and I are… We… It’s not even real.”
Angelina and Gabbi both gaped at me. “What?”
“It’s all fake,” I blurted out.
“What’s fake?”
I swallowed roughly before taking a long drink of water. “Nic and I’s entire relationship. We made a contract. One that I’m technically violating by telling you guys, but what am I going to do? ”
“Start from the beginning, babe,” Angelina said, giving me a reassuring look. “And breathe.”
So I did. I told them about the board not taking Nic seriously as a bachelor.
How when my mom had called me to ask if I was interested in being set up, I’d blabbed and said I was in a relationship with my boss.
That he’d proposed the whole thing, that we’d be married two years before divorcing amicably.
We hadn’t mentioned kids in the contract. Hadn’t discussed what would happen if this exact situation were to unfold.
“I can’t be pregnant when he doesn’t even want to really be married,” I told them. “Let alone having kids with me.”
“But…” Ang’s voice was soft. “You are sleeping together, right?”
I nodded. “Yeah. It started at your Bach party, actually. Nic and I sort of… hooked up. We agreed it was only one night, but then in Vegas, one thing led to another, and…”
“I knew it!” Gabbi almost shouted the words, and I winced. “Sorry. But I saw you, you know... sneaking out of Nic’s room that morning.”
“You did?” I asked, surprised that I was only just now finding out. “Why didn’t you say anything?”
Angelina poked her best friend. “Yeah, Gabs. Why didn’t you say anything?”
“You lost your right to first access to all gossip when you moved out, Ang,” Gabbi said, leaving Angelina pouting.
“Anyway, it wasn’t my secret to tell. And I didn’t know exactly what was going on between the two of you this summer—not until Nic posted that you’d gotten married.
I know you know I can’t condone workplace relationships, especially those with a power imbalance like yours, even if it’s not technically against the rules. ”
She was right—I knew better.
“We weren’t at work on the trip,” I said, defending myself. “Besides, we’re friends.”
“Mmm, I’ve heard that one before,” Angelina said,. “Do you know how long I told myself that Benjamin and I were just friends? Friends with some really amazing, wonderful benefits, sure, because Benjamin loves to—”
Gabbi quirked an eyebrow. “You know I love hearing about your sex life, Ang, but maybe not in front of Zo?”
There was never a moment with these two where I wasn’t amused—if not, slightly terrified. “It’s fine.” I shook my head. “So yeah, we were sleeping together, but in like a friends who give each other mutual orgasms kind of way.” It was sex, plain and simple. “No feelings.”
We weren’t making love.
Sure, he always made sure my pleasure came first, and I’d never met anyone else who could bring me to orgasm so quickly with just his tongue alone, but still.
Angelina nodded. “Denial is a river, and it’s long.”
“You mean the Nile?”
“It’s a metaphor, Gabs.”
She frowned. “I’m pretty sure you stole that from the Jungle Cruise.”
It was my turn to interrupt. “I’m not in denial. Nic and I are just friends. That’s always been the foundation of this, even after we got fake married.”
Angelina gave me an unconvinced look. “Are you sure about that fake part? Seeing the two of you together, I guess I just never would have guessed it wasn’t real. The way he looks at you…”
Shrugging, I avoided eye contact with either of my friends. “That doesn’t mean anything. It’s all just for show—that was the deal. Nic’s a good actor, I guess.”
“And you?” Gabbi asked. “Were you just pretending, too?”
“I—” I looked away, unwilling to disclose the truth of my feelings. Because it wasn’t real, and that was the most sobering part of it all.
“Why don’t you tell him how you feel?” She suggested. “Maybe once he hears, everything will change.”
Or I’d tell him, and he’d turn down my feelings, and everything would end. And then I’d have to move back in with my parents until I could find a new apartment, admit that I was now divorced, and have another failed relationship under my belt.
I stood up from the table, the nausea only growing worse. “Excuse me,” I mumbled, running towards the bathroom in the back.
Where I promptly threw up.
There was no denying the fact that I was pregnant. The two pink lines looked back at me, practically mocking me.
After I’d left lunch, I’d texted Nic, telling him I was still feeling under the weather but that I was going home to rest. I’d stopped at a store and grabbed a few tests, wanting to be sure before I figured out what I was going to do.
I felt so stupid. I’d gotten pregnant with my fake husband’s baby, and the worst part was I was also pretty sure I was in love with him.
Had this ever really been fake? Ever since we’d signed the contract, we’d toed the line between us.
Ever since I’d fallen back into his bed, I hadn’t wanted to admit the truth of what we were doing.
Why had I agreed to this in the first place? I knew it was all supposed to be fake. That nothing between us was real. And yet I couldn’t help but feel like I’d gone from being the person with all the answers to the one with all the questions.
Looking back, it was hard to deny the truth, especially considering how many nights I’d shared with him.
And now there was a tiny life growing inside me.
A child that I realized I desperately wanted, but one I never expected.
What was I going to do?
“Zofia?” Nic’s voice called out, and my eyes widened at the stick in my hand.
I wasn't ready to tell him yet. I didn’t even know how I truly felt about it, not to mention I had no idea what his reaction would be. Shoving it into the bottom of my makeup bag, I pulled the zipper shut before walking into the bedroom, finding Nicolas frowning, hands on his hips.
“Are you okay? I saw your text. When Angelina and Gabbi came back, and you weren’t with them, I was worried about you.”
No. No, I wasn’t okay. We’d been careful, so careful, and now everything would change. “I-I think I ate something bad,” I croaked out. “I figured I’d come home and lay down.”
The second I’d gotten home, I’d kicked off my heels and peeled off my blouse and pencil skirt, feeling overstimulated and trapped in the tight clothes, changing into a loose linen pajama set.
Now that I realized I was pregnant, it explained a lot. Like why my breasts had been so tender and sensitive this last week.
“What’s wrong?” He asked, that frown deepening. “Talk to me, baby.”
But I couldn’t. I was frozen. How would he react?
Neither one of us had planned for this. I didn’t even know if he wanted to be a dad. We’d been married and living together for almost a month, and I hadn’t even asked him if he wanted kids. What had he told his dad?
We’re happy with it just being us for a while.
Which was not the thing someone who wanted them said, right? Pretending or not.
He’d insisted on using condoms, and it made me think maybe he didn’t want them—or that he didn’t want them with me. His fake wife.