Chapter 7 #3
‘When was your last IUI session?’ she goes on. ‘I swore you said you hadn’t scheduled another one last month, but maybe I got the dates wrong.’ Even if she thinks she’s made a mistake, she still lets out a joyful laugh. ‘It finally worked!’
I don’t blame her for her celebration, because the grand result truly calls for it. I’m pregnant. Finally and truly, after months and months of trying and waiting and wishing and trudging on, it’s happened. But I’m hanging in the balance of shouting along with her in joy and passing out from shock.
‘This wasn’t—’ I cut short and draw in a shuddering breath. ‘This wasn’t from IUI.’
Edith’s elation slowly wanes as she waits for me to elaborate. ‘Excuse me?’
My armpits are starting to feel uncomfortably damp and there’s a bead of sweat slowly rolling its way down my spine.
‘It wasn’t IUI,’ I say again, a little louder this time.
Maybe too loud, because there’s a strange buzzing in my ears that’s making it hard to hear myself.
‘About a month ago I . . . slept with someone.’
‘You – what?’ Now she’s the one shaking her head, throwing her hands up to stop me from saying anything else. ‘You slept with someone? To purposefully get pregnant?’
‘No!’ This time I’m undoubtedly shouting. ‘It was just a hookup.’
And that was all it was supposed to be. A one-night thing. A little bit of fun and a break from the headaches of life. It wasn’t supposed to result in . . . this.
Edith has switched to nodding, starting to wrap her mind around it, but her lips are still fiercely turned down at the corners. ‘Okay. Right. Was it someone you know, or was it, like, a stranger you met in a bar, or . . .’ She trails off, waiting for me to supply the answer.
‘Not a stranger.’ I hold my breath for a second as I brace myself to tell the truth, because there’s no point in keeping it from her. ‘It was Zaid Yousef.’
Edith stills, brows slowly knitting together as she stares at me, blinking once, then again, her lips parting as if she’s about to speak but nothing comes out for a few long beats.
‘You slept with Zaid Yousef.’ She says each word slowly, like she wants to be absolutely certain she’s heard me correctly. ‘The man who nearly ruined your life.’
I wince. ‘It’s not his fault the press couldn’t mind their own business and blew everything out of proportion,’ I remind her.
‘Yeah, well, he could have stood up for you sooner than he did,’ she snaps, shock dropping away.
I get why she’s reacting like this, I really do.
I cried on her shoulder through the worst of it all, let her stroke my hair and murmur all the creative ways she planned to kill all the gossipmongers.
I know Zaid and his publicist waited as long as they did to speak out in hopes that people would simply lose interest, but my continued presence in the paddock fueled the rumors. They only stopped once I left.
Nothing I say is going to change her opinion of him right now, so I nervously twist my fingers together and wait for her to cool down.
It takes half a minute of deep breathing, but then she asks, ‘When did this happen?’
I grimace as I timidly answer, ‘The night of the pre-season party, after you ditched me.’
‘You’re having a laugh.’ She’s back to shaking her head, wisps of hair escaping her once-perfect French twist. ‘I saw you the next morning and you didn’t say anything about it! You just let me prattle on and on about work and the kids!’
‘I’m sorry,’ I groan. ‘But he and I agreed to keep it a secret. I figured it was for the best.’
Edith looks like she wants to argue that, but she drops her eyes to the pink floor tiles and blows out a breath instead.
‘All right, I get it,’ she grumbles, grudgingly coming around.
When her gaze lifts again, there’s a sly curiosity in her expression.
‘But since you wouldn’t tell me then, you’d better tell me now . . . How was it?’
It’s my turn to breathe deep. ‘He made me come six times.’
‘Jesus Christ.’ She sits down hard on the edge of the bathtub, elbows on her knees like a fighter recovering from a sucker punch.
‘I should have known. Man like that? He’s had enough practice to be a pro.
’ She’s lost in thought for a few more seconds before her attention snaps back to me.
‘Wait, it’s been over a month since then.
Didn’t you miss a period? How weren’t you suspicious you could be pregnant? ’
Because I didn’t think it was possible, that’s how.
I thought my period being late was just stress from work deadlines and traveling, or my body choosing to be a little shit.
It doesn’t matter that I’ve read nearly every pregnancy and baby book under the sun and know all the signs I should have been looking for.
But I wasn’t looking because I couldn’t fathom something like this happening.
I shake my hands out, willing my building anxiety to escape from my fingertips, but it keeps growing, fanning the flames instead. ‘We used condoms! I thought we were being careful.’
‘Condoms aren’t one hundred per cent effective against pregnancy, you know.’
I barely resist rolling my eyes. ‘Thank you, Dr. Maxwell-Brown.’
Edith ignores my sarcasm. ‘Did he bring them with him? Because they could have been degraded, especially if he kept them in his wallet.’