Chapter 42
Chapter Forty-Two
IMOGEN
The sound of rain battering the panes of glass wakes me. It’s light out, but the clouds overhead make it seem as though it’s dusk rather than dawn. As comfortable as I am snuggled against Alexander’s broad chest, my bladder is fit to burst.
I peel his arm from around my waist and slide out of bed. Every part of me aches. Alexander wasn’t joking when he told me he planned to play with me for hours. Not that I’m complaining. Only an idiot would grumble about five orgasms.
Leaving the bathroom light off, I swipe my hand beneath the mirror, and it illuminates. It’s more than enough to see where I’m going. I use the toilet and wash my hands. They feel a little dry, so I open the cabinet and reach for the hand cream when my gaze falls upon the unopened pack of tampons.
A second later, my stomach drops. I grasp the sides of the sink as the room spins, hanging on so tightly that my knuckles whiten. It can’t be. It… it can’t. I’m not due another shot for almost two weeks. I quickly do the math in my head. My period was due four days ago. I’m late. I’m never late. I’m one of the lucky ones. Ever since my first period at thirteen, I’ve been regular as clockwork and suffer few side effects, such as sore boobs and stomach cramps. Even with the contraceptive shot I still had periods. Yet now… nothing.
Nausea fills my stomach. I lean over the sink and splash my face with cold water. If I am pregnant, what does that mean? How can the contraceptive have failed? I thought they were close to foolproof.
My legs wobble as I tiptoe back into the bedroom. Alexander is still fast asleep, his arm thrown over my side of the bed as if his subconscious thinks I’m still there.
I grab my cell and type my question into the search engine. The answer I get doesn’t make me feel any better. The contraceptive shot Alexander’s doctor gave me is ninety-nine percent effective. That means one person in every one hundred will get knocked up while thinking they’re safe.
Just my luck to be the one in one hundred.
Although, I could be getting ahead of myself. I’ve been through a lot these past three months. Maybe my body is adjusting and I’m not pregnant after all. My period wasn’t late last month, nor the month before, but that doesn’t mean anything. It doesn’t.
Sinking onto the mattress before my legs give way, I press my palm to my stomach. If I am pregnant, what will that mean for Alexander and me? While I don’t agree with his reasoning, his fear of having children is real to him, therefore, it’s something I respect. If I have to choose though…
The thought of termination is deeply disturbing—a dark shadow that creeps from the recesses of my mind and threatens to choke me. I’m all for a woman’s right to choose, but that isn’t a choice I can make for myself. If Alexander asks me to pick him or the baby, then it’s something I don’t even need to think about, although my heart will break in two at losing him.
You’re getting way ahead of yourself.
The first thing I need to do is get a test, but that creates a problem in itself. I can’t leave Oakleigh without Alexander knowing, and even if I could, I don’t want to lie to him about where I’m going. I won’t lie. When he wakes up, I’ll?—
“What’s wrong?”
I glance over my shoulder, making sure I’ve a smile in place. “Good morning. How did you sleep?”
He doesn’t return my smile. “I asked what was wrong. Stop deflecting.”
My stomach tilts at how easily he finds it to read me. Even if I wanted to lie, I couldn’t. He’d see right through me in a heartbeat.
Twisting on the bed, I cross my legs and knit my hands together. “I’m late.”
His brow furrows. “Late for what? I wasn’t aware you had somewhere to be.”
I give a slight shake of my head, my teeth biting into my lip. “My period is late.”
Every drop of blood drains from Alexander’s face until he’s whiter than I’ve ever seen him. A muscle quivers in his cheek, and he blinks at least ten times in succession. “Is that out of the ordinary?”
There’s no glossing over the facts. “Yes. I’m never late.”
“So, you’re…?” His eyes drop to my abdomen. “You might be…”
“Pregnant. Yes.”
He shoots up and out of bed like a starting gun went off. He paces the length of the room several times. In any other circumstance it would be funny to watch him, buck naked, dick swinging as he marches up and down, with his hands on his hips. But there’s nothing remotely funny about the situation we now find ourselves in.
Storming back to the bed, he snatches his phone off the nightstand and stabs at the screen.
“Who are you calling?”
“Carter. I want fucking answers.”
I quash the idiotic shred of hope I’d had that he’d pull me into his arms and tell me it’ll all be okay and leave him barking at the unfortunate Doctor Carter while I get dressed. No doubt he’ll have the doctor come here to do a pregnancy test, so we know if there’s anything to worry about or if I am, for the first time in my life, having a late period.
While the time passes, I’m not sure which one I’m praying for.
How cruel of the universe to give someone two choices that can’t share the same space. If I am pregnant, I have to give up Alexander to keep my child.
I feel sick at the thought.
I’m pulling on a pair of jeans when he appears at the doorway to my closet. His hair is disheveled where he must have raked his fingers through it, and he’s still pale as chalk.
“Carter will be here in half an hour.”
“Right.” I fasten my jeans, but as I pass him, he grabs my elbow.
“Talk to me.”
I swallow. “What do you want me to say? You’ve made it clear what your position is. And I was happy to go along with it, because it was the only way I got to have you. But if I am pregnant, I won’t have an abortion. I think it’s important to make that clear. ”
He lets me go, shoving his hand into his thick hair again. “I don’t understand how this happened. Carter told me the chance of you falling pregnant were almost zero.”
“There’s a lot of weight in that word almost , isn’t there? Nothing is one hundred percent certain, or so it seems.” But he looks so bewildered that I have a violent urge to lessen his load somehow. “Maybe you’ve got super sperm.”
A spike of hope races through me when he offers a faint hint of a smile.
“I’ll have a cape made.”
“You should.” I rest a hand on his arm. “Let’s not worry until it’s confirmed we have something to worry about.”
I leave him to dress, and once he has, we head to his study to wait for the doctor. Alexander’s fidgety, and I can almost see the cogs turning in his brain, searching for a way out from the horrific—to him at least—situation he finds himself in.
What if he forces an abortion somehow? Poisons my food or sedates me without my knowledge? He could do it all too easily, and he’s made no secret of his views on children.
No. We’ve come so far. If I am pregnant, there has to be a way through for us. There has to be. And if he sticks to his red line, then I’ll raise the child alone. I won’t ask him for anything, but I refuse to abort my child.
I’m already coming around so fast to the idea of being a mother that if the test is negative, it’ll crush me. I would never have gotten pregnant on purpose, but the idea that I might be makes me want to hug myself and dance around the room.
I won’t. That would send Alexander right over the edge. He’s having his worst nightmare come true while I’m bursting with joy.
When Doctor Carter arrives, he’s paler than Alexander. The poor man probably thinks he’ll be hung, drawn, and quartered if my test comes back positive, and considering what I know of Alexander, it’s possible he might.
My husband dispenses with the social civilities and jabs a finger in my direction. “Test her.”
Hands shaking, the doctor reaches into his bag and pulls out a box. It’s similar to the hundreds of off-the-shelf pregnancy test kits I’ve seen in many stores. He hands it over.
“If this comes back positive, we’ll take some bloods and send them off to confirm the pregnancy. Although these tests are very reliable.”
“And if it’s negative?” I ask.
“That’s up to you.” He shoots a nervous glance at Alexander, who glares at the man with such venom, he starts to tremble. “I can still do a blood test, especially if your period is late and you’re concerned. Or we can wait and see what happens.”
I take the box from him. “So, I, what? Pee on the stick and wait?”
“That’s about it.”
“How long?”
“Three minutes.”
“Right.” As I close the door to the bathroom adjoining Alexander’s office, the shouting begins.
“What the fuck, Carter? You’d better start coming up with some answers.”
I don’t hear the doctor’s detailed response, only a low rumble as he answers. I rip open the box, and yank down my jeans and panties.
“What’s my father got to do with it?”
I frown. Good question. Once more, the doctor is speaking too quietly for me to hear him. I will myself to pee. It’s harder to do it on command, but I manage enough to wet the stick.
“Oh, you can fucking bank on it,” Alexander hollers.
The room beyond the door falls silent. If Alexander’s punched him, I’d have heard that, right? I set the stick on the side of the sink, wipe myself, and pull up my underwear and fasten my jeans. After washing and drying my hands, I set the timer on my watch for three minutes. It’s the longest three minutes of my life.
The alarm sounds.
I pick up the stick.
My heart thunders in my chest, the noise of it echoing through my ears.
I go back into Alexander’s office. He’s standing by his desk. Doctor Carter is sitting down, or maybe his legs gave out. I can’t imagine Alexander being courteous enough to invite him to sit. I draw in a breath deep enough to burst my lungs.
Rip off the Band-Aid. Rip off… the Band-Aid.
“It’s positive.”