I squint at him. “I know what you’re doing.” He wants to ogle me more.
“I’m just helping a friend.” He smirks.
“Whatever.” I lead Victor down the hall. This time I purposely exaggerate the swing of my hips. Two can play at this game.
In my bedroom, I open the closet door for him. Effortlessly, he hangs the heavy garments on the rod.
“Thank you,” I say, dropping my purse on the dresser.
“My pleasure.”
I reach down to take off a shoe and wince. My hands still hurt. I flex my fingers and rub the palms.
“Did the hangers break your skin?”
“Nope.”
“Let me see.” Before I can react, he grabs both of my hands to inspect, massaging my palms with his thumbs as he does.
“How was your official first day?” His thumbs circling erotically, I feel the stimulation there.
“Awesome, Mr. Santana.”
With a soft hiss through his teeth, Victor’s eyes smolder to ninety-eight percent cacao.
I sigh in frustration. One touch and I’m flirting with him. How pathetic am I? I yank my hands out of his and move to the closet.
Victor watches me closely. “Friends touch, Cherie.”
I choose a pair of jeans. “Not like that.”
“Like what?” His lips curl into a male satisfied smirk.
I point toward the door. “Out. I want to change and go see Gabs.”
He pauses at the door and stares back for a moment. “Meet you on the landing in five. We can walk to the hospital together.” Shaking his head, then chuckling, he goes.
He’s laughing at me, at this so called breakup. And why shouldn’t he? As a plan, it made absolute sense. In practice? It’s ludicrous. It’s been nine hours and the urge to seduce him is stronger than ever. I am in way, way over my head.
The surge of panic generates a desire to run — home to Mom, to Santa Fe, anywhere but here. However, I promised Gabs’ mom that I’d stay, and keep an eye on her. I promised Jesse, too. And Victor — and myself. I breathe through the panic and, once calm, change. Grabbing a bottled water on the way out, I meet Victor on the landing.
When we arrive at the hospital, Gabs is gone from her room for tests. The nurse looks at her watch. “Miss Santana should be back any minute now.”
“We’ll wait,” Victor says. He slides onto the deep window ledge to sit.
The water went through me quickly. “I have to use the facilities.” I go down the hall to the visitor’s bathroom.
When I come back to Gabs’ room, I freeze in the doorway. Jen sits with Victor on the ledge, almost sitting on his lap, actually. A hand on his thigh, she crowds him into the corner and leans over his arm, talking low about something.
In my mind, I filter through the hexes I could put on her. Wonder if she realizes I’m a witch?
I know that I have no right to feel jealous, but the sight of her pawing Victor shoots an unwelcome burst of it through my bloodstream finishing with a knot in my stomach.
The knot loosens when Victor takes her hand, lifts it off his leg and puts it back on her own leg. He pushes off the ledge to get away from her. She hangs on to his hand.
I speak up. “Baby, you are so hot. I can’t leave you alone for three minutes without strange women throwing themselves at you.” And even though I don’t feel it, I smile pleasantly.
“Hey, honey.” Victor roughly yanks his hand away from Jen. The movement catches the woman so off balance that she almost falls on her face.
With surprise and gratitude in his eyes, he touches his lips to mine and tucks me under his arm. And I don’t stop him.
“Sweetness, you remember Jen, don’t you?”
I pretend I don't.
“From your birthday party?” She says.
“Jen works here in the hospital. She came by to see Gabby,” Victor says.
“Oh, that Jen. Of course, that’s why you look familiar.”
“Hi, Cherie. I thought you were in Santa Fe?” Jen says.
“I was.” I smile broadly. “As you can see, I’ve returned.” I flash her my best, confident he’s-mind gaze — and slide my hand into Victor’s back pocket. The surprise on his face is nearly as fun as the one on Jen’s.
“Good.” She clearly doesn’t mean it. “I heard about Gabriela.” She motions to Victor. “And was just offering a psychiatric referral. My little brother went through —.” Her voice breaks.
“Oh. I’m sorry.” And I am. I know how difficult it is to have a mentally ill family member.
That still doesn’t give you the right to paw Victor.
Movement at the door draws our attention. It’s Gabs. She makes her way to the bed, eyes boring into mine.
“They might let me go home tomorrow,” she says.
“That’s fabulous.” I smile.
With heavy sarcasm in her voice, Gabs continues. “That’s only if I’m a good girl. So far the shrink isn’t making me wear one of those funny jackets, or locking me up in a padded room.” She claps her hands like a child. “Yay.”
“Gabby.” Victor admonishes her.
He rubs my back in a comforting way. As good as it feels, I take my hand out of his pocket meaning to step away. He promptly slides his hand up tangling it into my hair and massages my nape. It feels heavenly. Even though I know I should, I don’t stop him. It feels so wonderful, I just lean into it.
Huffing a breath, Gabs rolls her eyes at us. That’s when she notices Jen in the room. “What the hell are you doing here?”
Jen moves out of the corner, her face red with embarrassment. “I came to see if I can help in any way.”
“Oh, god,” Gabs groans.
“Nick’s doctor is the best —.” She starts.
“I don’t need Nick’s fucking doctor.”
Taken aback by the ferociousness of Gabs’ bark, Jen grimaces. “I should probably go,” she says.
“Yes, you should.” Victor turns to her with no smile, but no animosity either.
Lips pressed in a thin line, the woman flicks her hair back and squares her shoulders. “Goodnight, then.” She hurries out the door.
“I don’t know why she came here, Vic,” Gabs says.
“God, it’s so obvious.” I escape his blissful grasp to sit on my friend’s bed and look at him. “She wants Victor back.”
“That’s never going to happen,” he says.
I grunt at the lingering, stupid, blast of jealousy. He narrows his eyes at me. Time to change the subject.
I reach for Gabs’ hand. “G. Don’t be mad, okay? We’re on your side. Even bitch ex-fiancee.”
“I know. I know. My best interests and all that.” She yawns.
“You’re tired. We’ll get out of your hair.” I stand. “I’m working swings, noon to nine, starting tomorrow. Call if they release you before then.”
“Okay.”
“Call me no matter when they release you,” Victor says. “I’ll come get you.” He kisses her forehead.
She nods. “I need to talk to Cherie. Alone.”
Victor glances at me for approval. I nod indicating that it’s okay.
“I’ll wait at the elevators,” he says.
Gabs’ waits for him to go. “C. I want to apologize one on one. I never meant to hurt you.”
I turn to her. “But you did. Even though I understand your motive, and even though no real harm came of it for me or for Victor —.”
“Because you liiiiike him.” Gabs smiles.
Pressing my lips together in an attempt to hide my affirmative smile, I concede verbally. “I do.”
She giggles. “A lot?”
I nod. “So, in the end, giving me the wrong room turned out okay. It’s just the trust thing, G. How will I ever trust you again?”
Frowning Gabs closes her eyes. “I’ll do whatever it takes to earn it back.” She opens her eyes.
I smile and nod, even though I’m not convinced that’s possible.
“Aargh.�
� Gabs holds her tummy and winces.
“What’s wrong?” I’m part way out the door to get a nurse.
“Cramps.” She massages her abdomen. “My bitchiness the last couple of days may or may not have to do with PMS.”
Period.
“Hey, you wouldn’t have some tampons with you by chance?”
I should have gotten mine five days ago.
“The hospital only supplies napkins. They’re so gross.”
Every twenty-eight days for six years, like a finely tuned clock.
In a daze, I dig out the tampons I have in my purse and leave them with her.
My cycle is so regular that a calendarist could use my cycle to chart the year. Except this month.
“Thanks,” Gabs says.
What was I doing five days ago?
“C? Are you okay?”
Running away to Santa Fe.
“Sure,” I whisper.
I’m on the pill. I take it religiously at the same time every morning. Brush my teeth, take my pill.
“I’ll see you tomorrow.”
chapter forty-five
CALLING ME BABY. Cupping my ass. Cherie handled Jen aggressively. I smile. My girl handled me aggressively. And I fucking loved it.
On one level, Cherie being jealous bothers me. That means she doubts me. Can’t have that during Operation Romance. On a baser level, on a wolven level, I like it. I like that Cherie verbally scratched my ex’s eyes out, physically staked her claim on me.
Perhaps the experimental breakup had an even shorter lifespan than I expected it to have.
Hovering near the elevator, I watch Gabby’s doorway. The second I see Cherie’s face, I know something’s wrong. Something serious. My girl looks shell-shocked.
Blue eyes bigger than normal — bigger than when she discovered she gave her virginity to the wrong man that first night.
Now, walking down the long corridor, it’s as if she has to concentrate to move her feet. The hairs stand up on the back of my neck.
“Cherie, what’s wrong?” I hurry down the hall to her.
“Nothing,” she mumbles.
She’s lying.
The elevator arrives. We step on. She’s very still, barely breathing, yet her nostrils are flared — like an animal deciding between fight or flight. The buttons are on her side. Her hand shakes as she pushes the M for main level.
Zoned out, Cherie sucks in a huge breath as the elevator sinks. The doors open. She does nothing, she stares straight ahead unseeing, unmoving.
I step in front of her, keep the elevator door from closing. “You’re scaring the living fuck out of me, girl.”
I reach for her hand to lead her out. She backs away, wraps her arms around herself.
Whatever’s wrong has something to do with me.
“What the hell did Gabby do this time?”
My yelling brings Cherie back from whatever zone she went to. At least she sees me now.
“Nothing. Gabs didn’t do anything.” Her voice so low, I have to lean in to hear her. When I do, she steps aside, quickly walks around me to exit the elevator and keeps going right out of the building. I hurry after her. Force her to stop and talk to me.
“What the fuck, Cherie? One moment you’ve got your hand on my ass. The next you won’t let me touch you. Fuck my brains out at night, breakup with me in the morning. I don’t know if I’m coming or going, peaches. You are the fucking queen of mixed messages.” It comes out a lot harsher than I intended. But, fuck, I can’t take anymore!
She clasps her hands over her mouth and nose, closes her eyes and breathes for a few seconds.
When she opens her lids, there’s more than her standard, ordinary anxiety in those baby blues. It’s full-blown terror. She crosses her arms, hugging herself, again.
“God. I’m so out of my element here, with you. This —.” She gags on her fear.
“Damn it, girl. I’m thinking the absolute worst here. Tell me what’s wrong.”
She shakes her head, squares her shoulders and gathers herself. “I don’t know yet if — I have to confirm if there’s an actual problem.”
“Confirm what? Fuck! Talk to me!”
“No.” Arms tight around herself, she spins, walks fast in the direction of the condo.
I close my eyes, do my best to crush the helpless rage burning my beast to bits. I can either follow Cherie or go back inside and grill Gabby for an answer. No doubt in my mind that my cousin said something. Cherie was fine when I left them alone. Completely obliterated after.
Given the fright in Cherie’s eyes, she may leave Telluride, again — this time for good. Decision made. I catch up to my girl. We walk silently back home.
Block by block, I can almost hear the gears in her overachieving mind grind on the secret problem looking for a solution.
On the landing, after unlocking Gabby’s door, my girl pauses. “Victor, I’m sorry. I just don’t — know — how.” She gulps out more words that make absolutely no sense.
“Oh, sweetness.” I caress her cheek, keep my voice low and calm like I’m speaking to a frightened animal. “You’ve got me out of my mind with worry. Will you tell me what’s got you so shaken?”
She searches my eyes. “Not yet. I need to work it out for myself, first.”
Work out what, mi ninfa?
“Okay.” I cup her sweet face. “You haven’t eaten dinner. Let me fix you something.”
“Thank you for the offer, but I wouldn’t keep anything down right now.” With a light peck on my cheek, she goes in, closes the door leaving me on the other side.
Fuck.
Damn.
Shit.
Fuck!
Some people count to calm down. I cuss. I stand in the landing, mentally going through every curse word I know in every language I know.
I cuss while heating up leftovers. I cuss while eating. I cuss while getting undressed. I cuss while taking a shower.
Lying in bed staring at the ceiling, I don’t cuss. Knowing she’s just inches away on the other side of the wall, I put my hand on it, wishing telepathy were one of my wolven skills. That I could reach over and enter her mind, find out for myself what’s wrong.
I drift into fitful sleep for a few hours, my subconscious as frustrated as my conscious brain. Both come up blank.
By eight the next morning, I’ve had enough. Juggling a tray of breakfast food, I use my spare key to get into Gabby’s — and freeze. Cherie’s on speaker phone.
“Thanks for returning my call so early, doctor.”
Doctor? Icy dread fills my veins.
A female voice on the speaker phone says, “No problem. What can I do for you, Cherie?”
“My period is late.”
“Oh, I wouldn’t worry. Given all your life changes lately, that’s not surprising. Since you’re not sexually active —.”
My girl cuts off the voice. “But I am. Sexually active, I mean.”
I can hear the doctor’s sharp intake of breath. “Well, then, there could be a problem.”
The night she wore the stockings, the night I pictured a child and passed out, did we make a baby?
A baby.
“But I’m on the pill,” Cherie says, her voice desperate.
Quietly, I set the tray down on the entry bench, gently close the front door.
“The dosage of the pill you’re on is the lowest available with just enough hormone to regulate your flow — it was never intended as contraception. Didn’t you read the literature?”
Who the fuck reads the literature?
“How late are you?” The doctor asks.
I’m in this. I show myself, move into the living room. Dressed in sweat soaked running clothes, hair up in a clip, my girl shakes her head at me. She’s angry that I’ve been eavesdropping. Tough shit. My eyes lock with hers.
“Cherie, are you there? How late are you?” The doctor repeats.
“Six days as of this morning,” Cherie says.
Eyes still on my girl, I
speak up. “Doctor. This is Victor Santana. If Cherie’s pregnant, I’m the father.”
Father.
“Oh, hello.”
Cherie rolls her eyes at me.
“Doctor, what happens next?” I ask.
“We determine if Cherie is indeed pregnant.”
“And then?” I ask.
“If she is, the next step is accessing the risks.”
Risks?
“What kind of risks?” My girl asks the question out loud.
“There are several. One of the effects of the mini-pill that you’re taking is the thinning of the uterus lining. Any embryo, therefore, will most likely not implant properly making the risk of miscarriage extremely high. Then there’s a strong possibility of an ectopic pregnancy — that is the embryo implanting itself outside of the uterus. Such pregnancies are not viable at all. In fact, they can be deadly. Most times a woman’s body will resolve the issue. Sometimes surgery is necessary.”
The terrorized look from last night is back on mi ninfa’s face. She sits. I stand next to her, caress her head. My disappointment tangles with fear.
“How soon can you see her?” I ask.
“Well, if Cherie wants to travel to Colorado Springs, we will squeeze her in this week. Another option is to see a doctor in Telluride. I can research GYNs there and make a referral. First things first and that is a home pregnancy test.”
“What brand do you recommend?” I ask the doctor.
She rattles off several names.
“They’re accurate?” Cherie asks.
“Absolutely. Modern over the counter tests are as dependable as any done in a doctor’s office. Positive or negative, call me with the results. If you’re not pregnant, I assume you’ll want stronger dosage going forward.”
“Yes,” Cherie says.
We say our goodbyes to the doctor and disconnect. Unseeing, Cherie stares at nothing. I crouch in front of her, take her hands.
“Breathe, sweetness.”
With a blink, her eyes peer into mine. “I’m sorry I was so irresponsible —.”
Raising her hands to my mouth, I brush my lips across the knuckles. “You didn’t get here by yourself.”
My girl gives me a small smile. “I didn’t expect you to be this calm.”
“This is what was eating you last night?”
She nods. “Something Gabs said reminded me that —.” She looks down. “Oh god.”
Accidental Lover (Wolven Moon Book 3) Page 34