Chapter 28 Selene
TWENTY-EIGHT
SELENE
Breathe in. Breathe through. Breathe deep. Then out.
The shrill sound of the three-minute timer on my phone shakes me to my core.
I can’t decide if I’m queasy because I’ve felt nauseous every single day for the past several weeks, or if it’s from the uncertainty of the stick of plastic resting on the edge of the bathroom sink.
I didn’t set out to spend my day like this, but the signs were too great to ignore. So, when Holt told me he had to run out for an emergency work meeting, I took the opportunity.
I feel like I’m standing on the edge of a precipice or, fuck, even a fork in the road. Which direction will my life take me?
It all feels dramatic and life altering. Like at any moment, my life is going to implode.
Even after the timer goes off, I don’t pick up the white plastic stick.
I’m terrified of the answer—an answer I’m already certain I know. It feels as if there’s a taut string pulling me on the inside of my stomach. I gently place my hand over it and think about my mother.
It’s hard to think of her as she was before the last time I saw her. The fear in her eyes. The love she had for me. Something in her gaze told me she knew it was the last time she’d be looking at me, too.
I chew on the inside of my cheek.
Falling in love with Holt wasn’t expected.
I did everything I could to prevent this from happening, to avoid falling into the same trap my mother had, where she believed my father would love her to the ends of the earth.
I guess, in a way, he did. He couldn’t allow her to live her life in this world, and he couldn’t live in one where she didn’t exist, either.
Love can be volatile, and it can’t be trusted.
I want to believe every word Holt has told me over these past months. I want to believe he’s pined after me, secretly yearning in the shadows. But isn’t that what my mother believed?
Closing my eyes, I picture Holt. I imagine the way he looked at me this morning before he walked out the door.
His gentle touch. His starving kiss. The love in his rich, blue eyes.
He was looking at me as if I was the most precious person in the world.
Will he do the same if the answer on the stick is yes?
For years, Holt has been a chronic bachelor, moving from one woman to the next, never sticking with one long enough to allow anyone to draw the conclusion he was in a long-term relationship.
I think back to the last girl he’d been seen dating.
They were together the same amount of time him and I have been together now.
Is Holt capable of commitment?
I pick up my phone to text my sister but quickly put it back down.
I want to talk to her. I want to tell her about my hesitation in my career, my blossoming love for Holt, my fear that it will all slip away.
I’m afraid the rug is going to get pulled out from under me at any moment.
I want to tell her all these things, but I can’t.
This is between me and the piece of plastic sitting on the counter.
With sweaty palms and shaking fingers, I reach out for the stick.
I hold my breath until my lungs burn, then turn it over.
The plus sign fades, blurring with my tears.
My heart swells then contracts. I feel like it’s going to explode.
I clamp my hand over my mouth and stifle my cries.
Holt’s penthouse is filled with his staff: housekeepers, chefs, security.
Every single one would come racing in here if they heard me crying.
I swiftly shut the bathroom door and press my back against it. Then I sink to the floor.
Placing my hand gently on my stomach again, I take a deep breath. Years of therapy have taught me to think analytically when it comes to overwhelming situations. I try to think logically, making a point to remember the things I know as fact.
I have blonde hair.
I love yoga.
I’m a strong woman.
I’m healthy.
I’m capable.
I’m in love with Holt Capuleti.
I snap my eyes open as soon as the last thought registers in my mind. The truth rests there, as positive as the test I have clenched in my hand.
Instinct tells me the uncertainty of Holt’s reaction is inevitable.
Normally, I would run, end things as soon as possible.
I would let him go the same way I let Adam go.
I would spend the rest of my life alone, because being alone is safer than sharing your life with someone.
But if the feelings I have for Holt have taught me anything, it’s life and love don’t come without risk.
Loving Holt, like death, is an inevitable fact—one I can’t escape.
I rise from the bathroom floor and wrap my hand around the pregnancy test before slipping it into my pocket. After a quick look in the mirror, I swipe my fingers under my eyes, then step out of the bathroom.
Two hours later, I’m shoving the same bit of scrambled egg and microgreens across my plate for the thousandth time. I’ve played out every possible scenario in my head, but the one that sticks out the most is imagining what Holt’s reaction will be when he walks through the door.
I picture him wrapping his arms around me, telling me he’s all in.
But just when I’m convinced that’ll be his reaction, I imagine another scenario that involves him backing away, telling me this isn’t what he signed up for.
Holt is an ambitious man, focused on his career and finding his mother’s murderer. Not raising a child.
Then I think about what he told me the night I poured my heart out to him. The way he wrapped me up in his arms, promising over and over again how much he’s in love with me.
I glance up at the clock, wondering when the moment will come.
I won’t deny, fear has set in. Fear of losing everything I’ve gained over these past few months.
But he needs to know the truth, regardless of the outcome.
My breath catches in the back of my throat the second I hear the door open.
“Wallflower?” he announces from the end of the hallway.
My pulse races, and I inhale a deep breath, lifting my shoulders and wringing my fingers in my lap.
“In the kitchen!” I yell back, trying not to let my voice break.
“Hey,” he sighs, a smile stretched across his mouth.
It reaches his eyes, lighting him up. “You won’t believe what I’m going to tell you.
” He crosses the room and moves around the kitchen island.
Gripping the back of my head, he tilts me up until my lips meet his.
He sinks into it, using every ounce of energy to hold me close.
I grip his suit jacket, moaning against his mouth. He’s warmth and comfort, soothing the worried parts of my mind and soul.
I’m full of nervous energy, unable to quiet it.
“Holt,” I pull away. “I need to—"
“Hang on, Wallflower,” he cuts in. He’s practically bouncing with excitement. I can tell something has happened. He rakes his hand through his hair, revealing his gleaming eyes. “Rome dropped the lawsuit.”
“What?” I sit up out of my chair, and Holt sweeps me into his arms, then spins me around in a circle.
“Yeah,” he laughs, gently placing me back down.
I’m dizzy and feel like vomiting, but his mood is contagious. Despite my inner struggle to come to terms with what I need to tell him, I’m now fully focused on Holt’s news.
“H-How?” I stammer. “Why?”
“His lawyers sent word to mine this morning. They didn’t give a reason, but I think it must be because of what we overheard the other night at the masquerade ball. Julianna asked him to drop it, and he must have done it for her.”
I jerk my head back.
“What?” Holt asks, his eyebrows tugging together in concern. “This is a good thing, right?”
“No, of course, it is.” I take a deep breath and look up at him. I softly chuckle. “I just don’t know how much of this he did for Julianna. I can’t imagine Rome wanting to do anything for her.”
“You’re right.” Holt gives me a soft smile.
“I don’t know his reason, but I guess it doesn’t matter.
This gives me a chance to focus back on work and, maybe down the line, I can figure out who he was talking to that night.
But as far as my reputation, my team assured me it’s all taken care of now.
My PR is managing the media coverage. It’ll probably be in the cycle for a little while, but once the dust settles on that, we’re in the clear. ”
“That’s amazing.” I grin, watching the stress melt away from his body. He’s almost back to the man I knew before he was slapped with this lawsuit.
“I’m considering asking Rome who he was talking to the night of the masquerade ball.”
My stomach turns. I understand Holt’s drive, but I also hate the idea of him getting involved in something dangerous. Something tells me the man he saw talking to Rome won’t be considered a friend.
“I just want you to be careful, Holt. If that man is connected to your mother’s killer, are you thinking Rome is somehow connected, too?”
Holt pauses, considering my question. It’s been one that’s weighed on me ever since that night.
“No.” Holt shakes his head. “Rome didn’t look entirely friendly with him, and despite the hatred our families have toward one another, I don’t think Rome is capable of murder. I’m not sure how much he knows, though. I’m hoping he can give me something to go on.”
I nod as an icy chill slinks its way down the length of my spine. I shake it off and focus on the news I’m keeping locked inside me. “I don’t think someone who has knowledge or had anything to do with your mother’s death would drop the lawsuit the way Rome has.”
“Point well made.” Holt gives me a large grin, agreeing.
“I’m thankful he dropped the lawsuit.” I wrap my arms around his waist and squeeze, holding him impossibly close.
“Same, Wallflower.” He tilts his face down to kiss me, then he starts to sway me back and forth, almost as if we’re dancing. My hair dances across my back with how high my chin is lifted to stare into his eyes. His smile hasn’t wavered.