by Jenna Sutton
Standing in front of the farmhouse sink in my kitchen, I flip on the faucet. After filling a glass with tap water, I gulp down the massive prenatal vitamin my doctor prescribed.
I haven’t told anyone about my pregnancy, not even Tessa. We’re having brunch at our favorite restaurant in fifteen minutes, and I plan to tell her then.
I need to talk to someone, and I sure as hell can’t talk to the man who knocked me up. I don’t know what’s worse—that I don’t know his name, first or last, or that I wouldn’t recognize him if he was standing in line next to me at the neighborhood grocery store.
After stashing the bottle of vitamins in the cabinet behind some canned tomato soup—I don’t want someone to see them and discover my secret—I spare a minute to check my reflection in the full-length mirror hanging on the closet door in my entryway.
I’m not showing yet, I guess it’s way too early for that, and my red ankle-length pants are only a tiny bit snugger in the waist, likely from bloating. But my boobs not only feel bigger, they look bigger too, so I’m wearing a multicolored chevron print cardigan over my black T-shirt to conceal them as best I can.
My boobs offered the first clue that I might be pregnant. Although my period was a couple of days late, I wasn’t too concerned because it shows up late every once in a while. But then I noticed my boobs were sore—so sore I could barely stand to wear my softest, most comfortable bra.
Even though I told myself not to panic, that’s when I started to worry. I reminded myself that Wolf used a condom. I reminded myself that women have sex all the time without getting pregnant.
While I could ignore my missing period and my aching breasts, I couldn’t ignore the nausea that hit me the moment I rolled out of bed in the morning. Nor could I ignore the overwhelming exhaustion I felt only a few hours after I woke up.
When I took the first home pregnancy test, no more than five seconds ticked by before two lines showed up. They weren’t shy either. They were bold, just like I was the night of the masquerade ball.
Those two vivid lines screamed the truth: I was pregnant. Even worse, I had no idea whose baby I carried.
Hearing my phone vibrate, I rush to the bar separating the kitchen from the living area and scoop it up. I have a text from Tessa: At the restaurant. Got our fave booth.
I grimace, realizing I’m going to be late. Fortunately, the restaurant is only a few blocks from my apartment. After tucking my phone into my back pocket, I grab my leather hobo bag and set off at a fast pace.
When I get to the restaurant, I’m overheated and fantasizing about lemonade with freshly muddled strawberries. I wonder if this marks the beginning of pregnancy cravings.
As I walk through the door, chilled air gusts over me. I pause for a moment and close my eyes for a long blink. Is there anything better than a blast of air conditioning when your cheeks are flushed with heat and your forehead is shiny with sweat?
I give the hostess a brief wave before making my way toward the back of the restaurant. Tessa and I have been coming here for years for Saturday brunch, and we’ve kept our tradition, despite my sister’s new position of Queen of Alsania.
I haven’t seen Tessa in two weeks. She’s been traveling with Leo in an official capacity. They were in India when I found out I was pregnant.
When I reach the booth, Tessa slides out to give me a hug. “Hey, Cassiopeia!” she says, smiling impishly. She knows how much I detest that nickname, which is exactly why she uses it.
“That’s a pretty dress,” I say.
She’s wearing a minidress in a bright coral hue that should clash with her hair but doesn’t. The halter neckline bares her shoulders and features a waterfall ruffle. It’s not something most queens would wear, but the people of Alsania love Tessa so much, they wouldn’t care if she wore a sequined G-string to a state dinner.
Tessa touches the flouncy edge of the ruffle. “Leo picked it out.”
I’m not surprised. Leo chooses most of his wife’s clothing. It’s his way of taking care of her ... of spoiling her. He doesn’t shy away from bright colors or sexy styles either. He likes for Tessa to shine.
Once we’re settled in the booth, I pick up my water glass and take a big swallow. I’m thirsty all the time, and I read that excessive thirst was a common symptom of early pregnancy since the body is producing more blood.
“I ordered a grapefruit mimosa for you,” Tessa tells me.
I murmur my appreciation. A mimosa sounds delicious. I haven’t had any wine or liquor since I found out I was pregnant, but I doubt a few sips of champagne will hurt the baby.
As for Tessa, she doesn’t drink. Although alcohol is no longer prohibited by her doctors, she’s afraid of putting extra strain on her liver.
The server comes by, and after delivering our drinks, he asks if we’re ready to order. When I tell him that I need a moment to look at the menu, I can sense Tessa’s surprise.
“You don’t want the spinach and bacon crepes?” she asks.
Topped with hollandaise sauce, the crepes are my favorite item on the brunch menu. But they don’t sound very appetizing this morning. In fact, the thought of eating spinach makes my stomach churn and triggers my gag reflex.
I shrug. “Just in the mood for something different.”
It doesn’t take me long to review the menu and make a decision. Once we’ve placed our order—pancakes with strawberries and chocolate-hazelnut drizzle and a side of sausage links for me and an omelet with ham, green apples, and Havarti cheese for Tessa—my sister’s gaze narrows on my face.
“You look tired.” Her tone isn’t critical, simply concerned. “Everything okay?”
Although I’d planned to tell her about my pregnancy toward the end of our meal, I suddenly change my mind. “I’m pregnant,” I blurt out.
I can actually see the moment when Tessa realizes what I said. Her eyes widen and her mouth slowly rounds into an O.
“Pregnant?” she repeats.
I nod. “I’m four weeks along. Almost five.”
“I don’t know what to say. I can’t tell if you’re happy about it.” She reaches across the table and grasps my hand. “If you’re happy, then I’ll say, ‘I’m so excited! I’m going to be an aunt!’ But if you’re not happy... if this isn’t what you want ... if this isn’t the right time...” She sighs. “Whatever you decide, you know I’ll give you all the love and support you need.”
Tears blur my eyes. “I’m too scared to be happy.”
Before I can blink, Tessa is sliding into the booth next to me, pressing her hip against mine and forcing me to make room for her. Wrapping her arm around my shoulders, she says, “Shh. Don’t cry. It’s going to be fine. I promise.”
I take a deep breath, trying to compose myself. Telling Tessa about my pregnancy in a restaurant wasn’t the smartest idea I’ve ever had, especially given the hormones coursing through my body.
She rubs circles on my back for a few minutes before breaking the silence. “Have you made a decision yet?”
“Yes. I’m keeping the baby.”
She squeals. “I’m so excited! I’m going to be an aunt!”
I can’t help laughing. “In early February.”
“Have you told Zac?”
I’m confused for a moment before I realize why Tessa is asking about Zac: she thinks he’s the father of my baby. Her assumption makes total sense because I didn’t tell her about Wolf. I haven’t told anyone about him.
Zac may not have knocked me up, but he is partly responsible for the mess I’m in. When he told me that he needed to postpone our trip again, I questioned his commitment to me and our relationship. He said I wasn’t a priority—that his job was far more important—so I ended things.
I was disappointed about the breakup, but I wasn’t devastated. I don’t want to be with a man who doesn’t care about my feelings or want to spend time with me.
If Zac hadn’t canceled our trip, I wouldn’t have attended the masquerade ball and run into Wolf—liter
ally. It’s just my luck that the first time I do something risky, I end up pregnant.
At the very least, I should’ve been smart enough to ask Wolf for his real name. But I didn’t, simply because I wanted to enjoy the fantasy I created in the folly for a little longer.
Tessa nudges my shoulder. “Have you told Zac?” she asks again.
“No, not yet.”
I feel guilty about misleading my sister about the paternity of my baby, but not guilty enough to admit the truth. I don’t want to tell her about Wolf. I know she won’t judge me, but I’m still embarrassed ... still ashamed.
I’m not ashamed that I had sex with a stranger. I’m ashamed that I’m pregnant, and I have no idea who fathered my child.
My feelings probably have something to do with being adopted. I have so many questions about my birth parents, from big ones like, Why did you give me away? to little ones like, What’s your favorite color? Those questions will never be answered.
I never wanted my children to wonder like I’ve wondered. I wanted them to know. To know the answers to the big and little questions. To know who their parents are and how they came together.
I’ve always pitied the women who have to face an unplanned pregnancy without a partner. I never imagined I’d be one of them.
Maybe it makes me makes me conservative or old-fashioned, but I wanted to be married before I brought a child into the world. I know a lot of people think marriage isn’t important, but it is to me.
“How do you think he’ll take the news?” Tessa asks, still talking about Zac.
“I don’t know.”
Eventually, I’ll have to tell my sister that Zac isn’t the father of my baby. I know she’ll have a lot of questions—questions I won’t be able to answer.
CHAPTER FOUR
Marco
I hear Leo before I see him. I know it’s my brother, because he’s the only guy who roams around Helios singing “Libiamo ne' lieti calici (The Drinking Song)” from La Traviata. The tragic Verdi opera has always been his favorite.
Since the volume of Leo’s booming baritone is steadily increasing, he must be getting closer to the stall where I’m grooming my Arabian stallion, Antoine. The musky odor of horseflesh and the sweet, sunny fragrance of fresh-cut hay surrounds me as I stroke the dandy brush over Antoine’s flank.
If anyone should be wandering around Helios singing La Traviata, it’s me. Since the masquerade ball nearly two months ago, my attitude has mirrored a winter storm—cold, dark, and gloomy.
Sex with a stranger didn’t make me feel better. It made me feel worse. Much worse.
There’s just something so pathetic and wrong about fucking one woman while thinking about another ... while wanting a different woman. I regretted it the moment I withdrew from Bumblebee’s tight pussy, even though the sex was mind-blowing.
The truth is, I’m disgusted by myself. And I’m even more disgusted when I wake up hard and ready to shoot my load after dreaming about what happened in the folly.
The strangest thing is, I feel as if I’ve cheated on Cassie. I know that doesn’t make any sense. It sounds crazy, even to me.
To my relief, Cassie hasn’t visited Helios since she went to Italy with Zac. I miss seeing her, but it’s better if I don’t. Being around her is the equivalent of forcing a starving man to sit at a dinner table overflowing with food but forbidding him from sampling even one bite.
The operatic singing abruptly ceases, and my brother appears in the opening to the stall, his bottom half hidden by the split stable door. “There you are,” he says. “I’ve been looking for you.”
Despite the warm weather, and the fact that it’s Saturday afternoon, Leo’s wearing a pale blue dress shirt. He left his necktie back at the house though, and his shirtsleeves are rolled up to his elbows.
I can see a sliver of a black belt threaded through the waistband of his light gray trousers. No doubt he’s wearing black brogues, while I’m dressed far more appropriately in a navy-blue polo shirt, khaki riding breeches, and brown leather knee boots.
Continuing to run the brush over Antoine’s sleek chestnut body, I address my brother, “Good afternoon, Your Majesty.”
The King of Alsania rolls his eyes at me. “I hate it when you call me that.”
“You’ve mentioned that before ... Your Majesty.” His annoyed growl makes me smile. “Your vibrato is improving. But you’re still not good enough for the stage.”
Leo hasn’t always strolled around singing Italian arias. That started when he fell in love with Tessa. She makes him so happy he literally breaks into song.
The flush creeping over his cheeks encourages me to continue with my harassment. “You should sing something from Turandot instead,” I suggest. “It’s more fitting than La Traviata.”
La Traviata is the sorrowful tale of a doomed love affair between a consumptive courtesan and a young nobleman. Turandot, on the other hand, tells the story of a regal, forbidding princess and Calef, the clever man who melts her icy heart.
Although my brother is a smart man, it takes him a moment to catch on. When he does, he barks out a laugh that startles my horse so much he dances sideways.
“Are you going to start calling me Princess Turandot now?” Leo asks.
“Perhaps.”
“I think I prefer it over Your Majesty.” He unlatches the stable door and walks into the stall. “I just talked to Minister Abidisi.”
“About?”
Leo carefully re-latches the door before turning to face me. “He wanted to reschedule the meeting.”
I stop brushing Antoine. “You mean, reschedule it again,” I point out flatly. “He’s already postponed the meeting twice.”
Abidisi is in charge of Alsania’s Department of Energy and Natural Resources, and I’d like for him to work more closely with his counterpart at the Department of Infrastructure. Alsania’s energy and water infrastructure is decaying, and we need a strategy to modernize it. That’s the whole goal of the meeting.
Leo sighs loudly. “He insisted on having the meeting next Monday.”
Looking up at the rafters, I try to rein in my temper. “I can’t do next Monday. That’s the first day of Camp Discovery.”
The summer camp program is my passion project. Run by a nonprofit organization called Science is Life, the program encourages children to explore various forms of science. I’ve anonymously donated tens of thousands of euros to fund the camp over the past several years.
My playboy antics have always masked my inner geek, so my interest in science—chemistry, in particular—isn’t widely known. But earlier this year, after talking to Cassie about her volunteer work, I decided to get more involved in Science is Life.
When the executive director heard about my interest, she offered me a seat on the board and a position on the committee that develops curriculum for the summer camp. I accepted both, and since then, I’ve committed hundreds of hours to Science is Life.
I don’t want to miss the first day of camp. But I don’t want to miss this meeting with Abidisi either.
“Damn it, Leo. I’ve been pushing for this meeting for months. Months. And now I have to choose between Abidisi and Camp Discovery.”
Leo leans back against the wooden slats that separate the stalls and crosses his ankles. “I know how important the camp is to you, Marco, so I told Abidisi that he could keep our original meeting this Wednesday or else he might find himself out on his ass.”
Shocked, I feel my mouth drop open. “You threatened to fire the Minister of Energy?”
Leo nods. “I did.” His mouth curls in disgust. “Arrogant bastard.”
I laugh, both surprised and delighted by Leo’s rare display of temper. I’m usually the one who gets fired up, while my brother is calm and controlled, no matter the provocation.
“Thanks for having my back with Abidisi,” I say.
“Of course. I want you at the meeting as much as you want to be there.”
When my father wore the crow
n, he didn’t expect or want me to be involved in matters of government. Leo is the exact opposite. He encourages me to attend meetings, pushes me to speak up on topics that I feel strongly about, and engages in debates with me about the future of our country.
Last week, during Leo’s quarterly address of Parliament, his speech included a word-for-word quote of something I’d said about monetary policy. I couldn’t care less that he didn’t attribute the quote to me. I was just happy that he valued and respected my thoughts on the subject enough to repeat them to our leaders.
“On a different topic...” Leo says, straightening from his slouch against the wall, “you should probably be aware, in the event that a reporter or pap approaches you...”
Tilting my head, I ask, “Aware of what?”
“Cassie’s condition.”
“Condition? What condition?” Suddenly, I’m struck with a horrifying thought. “Oh, Jesus. She’s sick?” Fear digs its claws deep into my chest, and the dandy brush slips from my numb fingers, landing with a soft thud on the dirt-packed floor. “What’s wrong with her?”
Leo shakes his head. “She’s not sick. She’s pregnant.”
My brain stalls. “Pregnant?”
“Yes. According to Tessa, the baby’s due in early February.”
“My Cassie is pregnant?” I barely register the bemused expression on Leo’s face. “She’s going to have a baby?”
“Your Cassie?” Leo says. “What do you mean, your Cassie?”
As the truth slowly seeps into my conscious, my stomach begins to churn sickly. At this very moment, a baby is growing inside Cassie—a part of her and a part of Zac Diedi.
Turning away from Leo, I lean my forehead against Antoine’s warm side and close my eyes. I knew I never had a chance with Cassie. I fucking knew it. But no matter how many times I told myself that, my heart just refused to listen ... refused to give up hope. It’s so damn stubborn.
And now that she’s pregnant with another man’s child ... well, I have no choice. I have to accept that she’ll never be mine.
“Marco...” Leo’s hand settles on my shoulder. “What’s going on? Why are you so upset?”