Chapter 25
LILA
Ihadn’t been feeling right for days, but I’d assumed it was a combination of the local water iced in my drinks and stress. Graham had booked me an appointment with a local doctor, and now I was sitting in a pristine white office while a handsome Greek man analysed my pee.
Being a woman was so lovely.
He frowned and glanced at me, and instantly, dread crept down my spine.
“What is it?” I whispered, wondering what he could see in the pee that would make him frown.
He sent me a reassuring smile, then threw away the dipstick he had been scrutinising. He sat back in front of me and clasped his hands together.
“You’re pregnant.”
Blood rushed in my ears, and I stared at him, waiting for him to laugh and say he was kidding.
But he didn’t. He just continued to smile at me.
“What? I’m forty-four!”
“It’s fine, your body still works.” He lifted his brows. “When was your last period?”
I stared at the floor, my head spinning. My last period? I’d assumed I was perimenopausal for Christ's sake, so I’d stopped keeping track.
“I honestly don’t know,” I admitted, my voice sounding far away. “Months?”
I groaned. Months. When was the last time I’d had sex? I couldn’t even remember—but then I did, and I grabbed my phone. It was sad to think I could remember the one and only time I’d had sex with my husband in the past few months, and it had happened to be on my mom’s birthday.
I counted the dates, nerves fluttering in my stomach. I couldn’t be pregnant! Victor and I were getting divorced for fuck’s sake!
8 weeks ago.
So, I’d missed at least two periods.
Good god.
I closed my eyes and told the doctor I thought I’d missed two periods, and he asked when I was flying home, and advised me to get a scan at around 12 weeks.
Pregnant.
With my cheating husband’s baby.
I left the office with legs like jelly and sank onto the sun-drenched bench outside the medical centre. Tourists milled around looking at souvenirs to take home, oblivious to my conundrum.
Graham had called while I was with the doctor. What could I say? Thanks for helping me out but I’m carrying another man’s child?
I called my mom, because she was the only person who would know what to say. Tears stung my eyes when she answered.
“Hey! How’s Greece?”
“Mom,” I whispered, wiping my tears with the back of my hand. Hearing her voice set me off even more, and the poor woman fretted while I tried to calm down enough to speak.
“Lila, baby? Please take a deep breath before I jump on a plane to the wrong island.”
I laughed, the sound strange among my sobs. “I’m pregnant.”
Silence. Then:
“Oh, baby!” Mom breathed, and I could almost feel her love down the phone. “That’s okay! You’ll be okay. How do you feel?”
“It’s his baby,” I moaned, aware of the curious looks I was getting from passersby. Mainly couples holding hands, which made me feel even worse.
“Hey,” Mom said, her voice soft. “It’s your baby too. And you loved him, before you knew any of this, so that baby was conceived in love.”
I nodded and gulped. She was right, but now? Now there was nothing.
“It’s not the baby’s fault,” I said, staring at my stomach. “I’m so old, mom, I thought it was the perimenopause.”
“It could’ve been, but fate works in mysterious ways.” Mom laughed. “You need to come home. You can’t be pregnant and alone out there.”
I took in the pretty street with whitewashed buildings and bright flowers lining the road. The sun beamed down on me, and I honestly couldn’t think of a better place to be when the shit hit the fan.
The thought of flying home and facing Victor—I sucked in a breath and shut my eyes against the image.
“I fly home next week anyway,” I explained heavily. “Can I stay with you for a few days when I get back? I can’t face Victor, not like this.”
“Of course, baby; are you going to tell him?” Mom asked gently, like she was speaking to a child.
I hadn’t even thought of that. Of course, he’d have to know—he had a right. But fuck…
Pregnant.
I had to come to terms with myself first.
Graham stared at me. “Pregnant?”
I nodded, spinning my water glass around. “Yep.”
Graham downed his coffee and promptly ordered another with Irish cream in it. The server gazed at us but said nothing. There was no mention of magic tricks now.
“Shit.”
“Yeah,” I said, sneaking a glance at the man who had become my friend in the space of two weeks. “I’m sorry, it’s a lot for you to take in.”
Graham sighed. “Yeah, but it’s not about me. What are you going to do? About the baby?”
I frowned and looked at him, my fingers stilling on the glass. “Do?” I echoed.
Graham nodded. “Are you keeping it? I mean, you’re getting a divorce…”
I felt like he’d slapped me, yet it was a perfectly normal question.
“I’m keeping my baby, yes.” My response was icy, and he flinched.
“Okay, I was just asking.”
But he’d pissed me off with his fucking question. I refused to look at him, angry that he’d even asked. Why would I not have my baby?
“You think I should get rid of it?” The words were like whips to my skin.
Rid. It.
“I just think you’ll be an older mom, you’ve just got your life back… the dad is useless—”
I stared at this man like he was a stranger. He didn’t know me at all—only the things I’d told him. Granted, there had been a few things—but not enough to judge my situation like that.
“Victor isn’t useless. He’s a cheat and a liar—but he’d be a great dad.” My throat swelled at the thought of Victor staring down at our baby with nothing but adoration. Or maybe I was dreaming—he may not want to be a dad at forty-six.
Ah well, fuck him. He’s made enough decisions for us so far, I’ll make this one.
And so what if I was an older mom? Where did it say anywhere that you had to be young to have kids?
My head throbbed, and Graham rose to his feet.
“I think I’ll leave you alone for the rest of today. Call if you need me.”
He nodded at the server and walked away, leaving me with angry tears pricking my eyelids as I slid my sunglasses on.
Fucking men.