The Girl Who Always Wins (Soulless Book 13)

by Victoria Quinn

  “Because the mind is the most powerful part of the body. If your mind has given up, so will your body. You know this better than anyone. Our patients who reach remission are always the ones who are positive, who never stop believing. The ones who give up…they never make it. When my wife had cancer—” He stopped abruptly, as if just thinking about it was too hard for him. “She never lost her faith. She never lost her hope. She told us from the beginning that she would beat it, and every time I took her to the hospital for treatment…she smiled. She laughed. She…believed. Within a couple months, she beat the shit out of that tumor, triumphed against her odds, laughed in its goddamn face. I really believe her exceptional progress was because of her positivity. I understand how hard it is to not get swept up in the fear and grief because when you aren’t the one experiencing it directly, it’s somehow so much worse. Her cancer was a million times harder for me than it ever was for her. But you have to support Daisy. You have to believe with her. Because that will make all the difference in the world.”

  When the elevator doors opened, she stood in the kitchen, a bag of takeout on the counter. She was still, watching me, tense as if she expected me to explode even though I’d had hours to wind down.

  I wished this hadn’t happened. I wished we’d been more careful. I wished I hadn’t put us in this position. All I had to do was take a step back and put on a condom. But I didn’t. I should have looked out for both of us, especially when I knew the consequences of our actions better than she did.

  But Deacon was right.

  There was nothing that could be done at this point. We had to wait…and hope.

  I came farther into the penthouse and approached the kitchen. “What’d you get?”

  She stilled again, surprised by the question. “A sandwich…”

  I came to her side and looked at her grilled steak sandwich with all the fixings. “It’s pretty big… You want to split it with me?”

  There wasn’t a smile on her lips, but it was there in her eyes. “Sure.”

  We didn’t talk about it.

  We talked about work. That was pretty much it.

  There was a bright pink elephant in the room, and neither one of us addressed it.

  We had a routine down, going to work, coming home, whipping up something together for dinner, and then working together on the couch. When we went to sleep, there was lovemaking before the lights went out for good.

  But still no talking.

  I knew I couldn’t avoid it forever.

  Another week had come and gone, and that meant she had reached five weeks.

  This was how I would spend my time from now on. Counting every week. Reaching a new goalpost and hoping to make it to the next one. Waiting. Hoping. Begging.

  On Friday, she came home from work. “Thought we could go to my parents’ to celebrate. My brothers still don’t know.”

  The high of our engagement had been forgotten after she’d told me the news. I was still happy, still wanted to be with her, but that seemed like old news now. “Sure.” I closed my laptop on the coffee table.

  She took the seat beside me, giving me that look.

  The same look her dad gave sometimes.

  I knew what was coming.

  She didn’t even look pregnant. She looked exactly the same. Naked, her stomach was as flat as ever. I hadn’t kissed her belly, hadn’t even acknowledged the existence of our child, because I was afraid to get too attached.

  Her hands came together in her lap. “I have doctor appointments this week…if you want to come. But if you don’t, I understand too.”

  I wasn’t a coward. Wouldn’t make her go through this alone. “I’ll be there.”

  She’d been bracing herself for a different answer, judging by the relief in her eyes. “Maybe we should talk about this…”

  There was nothing to talk about. “What do you want me to say, Daisy?”

  “I…I don’t know. You’re here, but you aren’t really here, you know?”

  I looked away and stared at the dark TV screen.

  “Your reaction is much better than I anticipated, but…it’s still a bit hollow.”

  I needed to be positive. I needed to be supportive. She couldn’t spend her energy worrying about me. “I can’t pretend that I’m not scared. I’m terrified. I’m afraid to even allow myself to want this because if it doesn’t happen…it’ll hurt so much.”

  Her hand went to mine. “I know.”

  My fingers intertwined with hers then gave her a tight squeeze. “But we have to hope for the best.” I forced myself to say it, to put that positivity in the air, to make her hope for a better future than the experiences in my past.

  “I agree. It could be different this time.”

  I nodded. “Yes…it could.”

  “And I know I can’t make things happen with just sheer force of will, but you know how I am. I don’t give up. I’m not gonna let our baby give up.”

  I looked away because I was about to get choked up. It wasn’t her—it was me. She could try as hard as she wanted, but I was the one who fucked up everything in the end. Her strength wouldn’t balance my weakness. “I know you won’t…”

  “Was it always the first trimester when it…?”

  “Yes. The very end.”

  She nodded. “I’m a third of the way there. So far, so good.”

  I forced myself to give a nod. “We’ll make it.” It was so hard to force this shit out, when I was too afraid to even believe it.

  She squeezed my hand, like that encouragement meant the world to her.

  I turned back to her, seeing the love in her eyes, the fight, the hope.

  I could never take that away from her.

  When we walked inside, her family was already there.

  “Oh man…I’m so tired.” Daisy took off her coat and hung it by the doorway. “Exhausted. Like, I’ve never been this tired in my life…”

  Dex eyed her from the couch, about to make a smartass comment. “Not surprised. Saying the same thing over and over again would exhaust anybody. And what about poor Atlas here? He’s the one who has to listen to it—”

  “Because I’ve been carrying around this mountain everywhere!” Daisy held up her left hand.

  Dex immediately dropped his sarcasm and jumped to his feet. He threw his arms up in the air. “No way!”

  Emerson came over and examined Daisy’s left hand. “Wow, it’s gorgeous.”

  “Thank you,” Daisy said. “Picked it out myself.”

  I shrugged. “I just bought it.”

  Emerson opened her arms and hugged me. “Welcome to the family.”

  I hugged her back. “Thanks.”

  Dex grabbed Daisy’s wrist and examined it. “Damn…that’s nice. Congratulations.” He smiled then hugged his sister, hugged her for a really long time, dropping his sarcastic remarks and enveloping her in older brother affection.

  Derek came to me and gave me a hug. “You’re sure about this?”

  I chuckled. “Yes.”

  “Because she’s just going to get worse with age.”

  “Nothing I can’t handle.”

  Derek patted me on the arm. “You’re a good man. And you’re good to my sister.”

  “Thanks, Derek.”

  Derek moved to his sister next and hugged her.

  Sicily came next and hugged me, holding her youngest in one arm.

  He was really cute, and I swallowed at the sight of him.

  It would be so nice to have a little kid at the end of this, with dark hair like ours, with her eyes.

  Can’t do that, man.

  Mrs. Hamilton came next, hugging me like she was my mom, not my future mother-in-law. “That’s a beautiful ring, Atlas.”

  “A beautiful girl needs a beautiful ring.”

  “Good answer. So happy that my little girl has found the right man for her.”

  “Thank you, Mrs. Hamilton.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Please call me Cleo. Everyone knows who I
’m married to, so I don’t need the title.”

  “Alright, Mrs.—Cleo.”

  She chuckled as she headed to Daisy.

  Deacon came up last, in dark denim jeans and a black t-shirt, veins of his muscular arms peeking beneath the sleeves. Without the bit of gray in his hair, it’d be hard to believe he had three grown children. With fatherly affection in his eyes, he came up to me and planted his hand on my arm. “Congratulations, son.”

  “Thanks…Deacon.”

  He smiled. “Still hard for you to say, huh?”

  “Just a tad.”

  He chuckled and pulled me in for a one-armed hug. “Don’t get too used to it. Soon, you’ll be calling me Dad.”

  20

  Daisy

  I dug my hand into the basket of fries and fished out more, getting the grains of salt on my oily fingertips. Sometimes food made me sick, but so far, fries had never let me down. Guess the kid liked them.

  “Drink too much last night?” Dex asked.

  “No.” I kept eating. “Why?”

  “Because you’re drinking water instead of your usual Sex in the City drink.”

  The secret had stayed between my parents and me because I didn’t want that to be the point of conversation at our celebration the other night. Atlas was doing really well with this whole thing, but I could see the struggle behind his eyes. “I’m pregnant.”

  “Ooh, that’s why he proposed.”

  “Oh, shut up.” I threw a fry in his face. “He asked me before we found out.”

  He grabbed the fallen fry off the table and put it into his mouth. But then he stilled. “Wait…what?”

  “Seriously? It’s taken this long for you to process what I just said?”

  “You’re pregnant?”

  I rolled my eyes.

  “How?”

  “I got laid, idiot.”

  “I just mean, you seem like a smart girl who doesn’t accidentally get knocked up.”

  “Well…shit happens. And it’s with the man I love, so I’m fine with it.”

  “You were the one who said you were going to have kids at the last possible moment—”

  “Well, looks like that timetable moved up.” I threw another fry at him. “Write your life in pencil, not pen.”

  “I guess you could use our babysitter. It would be nice for the kids to have their cousin with them. Derek and Emerson really like theirs too.”

  “Yeah…I’ll worry about that when I get there.”

  He watched me for a while, sensing my mood change. “What’s wrong?”

  I should have assumed that my dad would keep this information to himself, to protect Atlas’s privacy. “Atlas can’t have children. Every time he tried with his wife, it ended in a miscarriage before the second trimester.”

  He closed his eyes. “Shit…”

  “So, I’m just hoping, praying, begging…that doesn’t happen to me.”

  “I’m sorry, Daisy.”

  “It’s been hard for him, but he puts on a brave face for me.”

  “Is it a genetic problem?”

  “He thinks it’s related to his blood disorder, but he’s not entirely sure.”

  He turned quiet, his eyes dropping down to the basket between us. “Well, just because something happened in the past doesn’t mean it’s going to happen again. Since the exact issue is unknown, it could be different this time.”

  “Yeah, that’s what I’m hoping for. I was totally not in the place to be a mom, but…I’ll be devastated if this doesn’t work out.”

  He shook his head. “Daisy, you’d be the best mom ever.”

  I dropped my gaze, touched by what he said. “Really?”

  “Yes. I know I give you shit a lot, but…”

  “I think he’d be a really good dad too. And I know how much he would love our baby…if it happens.”

  “Yeah. Being a dad is… There’s no feeling like it.” He looked like he wanted to say more, but to avoid being insensitive, he stayed quiet. “Relax… Don’t think about it. Stay positive.”

  I nodded. “Same advice Dad gave me.”

  “Then it’s damn good advice.”

  “Mom, what are you doing here?” I looked up from my desk, seeing her standing in front of me in the middle of the day. She’d never stopped by my office before. She was too busy running the lives of the rich and famous.

  She held up a bag of takeout. “I was in the neighborhood and thought I’d bring you lunch.”

  “You didn’t have to do that.”

  “You want me to take it back?” she teased.

  “Whoa, hold on.”

  She chuckled and set the bag in front of me.

  It was a salad with a sandwich and a banana nut muffin. “This looks pretty good. Thanks.”

  “Of course.” She took a seat in the armchair facing my desk and watched me eat. “How are you feeling?”

  I shrugged as I poured the dressing on top. “The same, really.”

  “Taking your prenatals?”

  “Taking everything, Mama.”

  “Doing your walks?”

  “Mom, all I do is strut around here all day long.”

  “In heels?” she asked, amused.

  “Yep. You aren’t the only bad bitch in the family.”

  She chuckled.

  “We have a doctor’s appointment in a bit.”

  “You want me to come with you?”

  “Atlas is taking me.” I wore my diamond ring everywhere, but I didn’t feel engaged. I felt married already, and now we were in the stage of our lives—starting a family. I’d always pictured myself having a big wedding with a gorgeous bridal gown and a super-hot dude waiting for me at the end of the aisle, but…priorities changed. My only focus was on this little person inside me.

  “How’s he doing?”

  “He’s on pins and needles—all the time.”

  “Yeah…I bet.”

  “He says all the right things, but I can tell he’s a nervous wreck inside.”

  “Can’t blame him.”

  I couldn’t either.

  “You still aren’t showing.”

  “Oh, I can totally tell. My clothes are getting really snug.”

  She smiled. “Good excuse to go clothes shopping.”

  “True. Do they have sexy maternity clothes?”

  “All maternity clothes are sexy because you’re glowing.”

  I took a couple bites. “I don’t feel sexy. Throwing up…feeling bloated…hungry all the time.”

  “Well, that last one isn’t new.”

  “You got me there.”

  Atlas appeared in the glass doors, giving people a wave and a smile, and then he let himself into my office and bypassed my assistant. He was in his blue scrubs, the upper part of his chest visible in the deep cut of the shirt. He looked really good in scrubs. I didn’t have a thing for doctors, but I definitely had a thing for him.

  Mom left her chair and gave him a hug. “Nice to see you, honey.”

  I smiled because I liked hearing my mom refer to him the same way she referred to us.

  “You too, Cleo,” he said. “Are you joining us?”

  “No. I just dropped off lunch since I was in the neighborhood.”

  “That was nice of you. Thank you.”

  Mom turned to me. “I’ll see you later, honey.”

  “Bye, Mom. Love you.”

  “Love you too.” She let herself out, her ass still like a nectarine.

  Atlas lowered himself into the armchair, crossed one ankle on the opposite knee, and then turned apprehensive, like he was dreading our appointment and had gone straight back to thinking about it once my mom was gone.

  “You want some of my muffin?” I ripped off a piece and chewed.

  “I always want your muffin.” His eyes lit up playfully, returning to the man I’d fallen in love with.

  “Well, you can’t have that muffin. At least, not while we’re at work.”

  “Never stopped us before.”

&n
bsp; I rolled my eyes and returned the pastry to the bag. “I’m ready.”

  “Did you eat enough? You’ve only eaten half your salad.”

  “I already had lunch.”

  He grinned and got to his feet. “Should’ve known.”

  We walked out of the office together, his arm around my waist, the two of us leaving as a couple. We’d never had that luxury before, and it was a great luxury to have. I missed working with him, but it was nice to be ourselves, to abandon professionalism and just be two people in love.

  We sat together in the doctor’s exam room and waited for Dr. Jamil.

  Atlas sat still and quiet, but his dark eyes showed his silent hysteria. His energy was so palpable that it did all the talking.

  “My father recommended Dr. Jamil. Said he’s one of the best.”

  Atlas gave a slight nod and a sigh, one ankle crossed on the opposite knee, his elbow propped on the armrest. He didn’t hold my hand or even look at me. If a heart monitor were hooked up to his finger, it would show it racing at lightning speed.

  I tried to get his mind off the situation, and the best way to do that was to talk about work. “Figure out the relationship between the B cells and your patients?”

  He kept his eyes straight ahead. “No.”

  “Did you figure out if they’re pre-diabetic?”

  “Yes.”

  This wasn’t working. “As in, they are pre-diabetic—”

  “No. Look, I know you’re trying to distract me, but it’s not going to work.”

  “I really am curious. Come on, I always ask you questions.”

  He gave a loud sigh before he spoke. “The patients aren’t diabetic, whether it’s type one or type two. The high B cells must just be a coincidence.”

  “But B cells don’t just elevate for no reason.”

  “I agree, but I’ve researched everything and can’t find anything.”

  I took a breath and considered the situation, trying to find a viable explanation for this phenomenon. “If the B cells are rising, that means their immune system is being primed to attack. And if they aren’t diabetic, then…” I sat in silence, trying to figure it out. “What if the medication is causing an internal inflammatory problem, so the body is producing these cells to attack the issue…”