He stands and remains still. “Sofia, please, just give me some time to figure this shit out. There has to be a way for us to make this work. I’ll speak with Enzo—”
I shake my head furiously and take another backward step. “They’ll kill you if you stay.” Tears splash on my cheeks. “As much as I hate you for all the lies and deceit, I don’t want to see that happen.” I wipe the wetness away with the back of my hand.
“Sofia—” he pleads, desperation threaded through his voice.
“No! We’re on opposite sides of the same damn coin. No matter how much we try, that will never change. Don’t you understand?”
The hope shining in his eyes dims. “I’m asking for a day. Two at the most. Just give me that before you do anything rash. My feelings for you were always real.”
My knees wobble. I just want to curl up into a tight ball until the pain of his betrayal dissipates. “Please don’t make this any harder than it already is.”
When he takes a step toward me, I turn and flee to the entryway, where I grab my purse and keys. I race to my car and lock myself inside. As I slide the key in the ignition, Roman pounds a fist on the window.
“Open the damn door, Sofia! Don’t leave!” he yells, delivering another blow that makes the glass shake.
I ignore him—which is the hardest thing I’ve ever done—and shift into reverse. The tires squeal as I peel out of the driveway. Slamming on the brakes, my head smacks the headrest. My heart bangs against my ribcage as I press on the gas, thankful for no oncoming traffic. I keep my eyes trained on the street because I don’t want to know if Roman is in pursuit.
If he’s smart, he’ll tell his lieutenant that he’s been made.
If my father or brothers get their hands on him…
He’s a dead man.
Chapter Thirty-One
Three days have passed since I saw Roman.
I assume he wised up and left town. My heart splinters at the thought of never seeing him again. But there wasn’t a choice in the matter. I couldn’t live with his death on my conscience.
Since there’s a lull between appointments, I grab my lunch from the mini refrigerator in the outer office and bring it to my desk. Ella usually stops by at the end of her study hall period to check in with me, so I want to stick around. I unwrap the roast beef and swiss on rye bread, and my stomach flips as I sink my teeth in. Flinging the sandwich onto the wrapper, I dash to the faculty restroom across the hall.
It’s unoccupied, thank God.
I slide the lock into place and make it to the toilet in the nick of time. Everything pours out of me in a violent torrent. After my belly is empty, I dry heave until my eyes water.
Once the spasms ease, I sit on the tile floor and push my back against the wall. I close my eyes and concentrate on my breathing until the cramps subside. With shaky arms and legs, I brace myself against the wall and slowly stand, wobbling to the sink to rinse my mouth and splash cold water on my face.
What the hell was that about?
I’ll be the first to admit I haven’t felt the greatest lately, but this is the first time I’ve actually vomited. My body just feels off. I’m more tired than usual, and I’ve been plagued with random bouts of nausea.
I’m not surprised that all the stress in my life is physically affecting me.
I’m teetering on the edge of a nervous breakdown because I’m constantly on the lookout for Roman and I’m worried about my dad and brothers. I had every intention of driving straight to the compound on Monday evening to tell my parents about Roman.
After work, I sat in the school parking lot for ten minutes knowing what needed to be done, but unable to set the wheels in motion. I needed more time to accept what would happen once I unleashed the truth.
One day turned into two.
Which quickly turned into three.
Now we’re on the fourth day, and I’m a nervous wreck with an upset stomach.
I scrutinize my appearance in the mirror to make sure I’m at least semi-presentable. Unfortunately, I look like death warmed over. The best thing I can do at this point is call it a day. I’ll let Sherry know I’m taking a few hours of sick time and head home. I can drive over to the compound once I feel better and tell my parents about Roman’s deception in person.
Just as I’m shutting down my computer, Ella pokes her head through the open doorway.
“Hey, Ms. B, do you have a few minutes?” She smiles.
“Hi, Ella.” I hold my hands up, palms out in a stay-put fashion because I don’t want her to get sick if I’ve picked up a virus. “Don’t get too close. I’m not feeling very well. I was just about to head home for the afternoon.”
Her expression turns sympathetic. “That sucks.”
I chuckle. Throwing up at work in the middle of the afternoon sucks big time. “It really does.”
“Hopefully whatever you caught will pass quickly. Is it a stomach bug?”
“I think so.”
“I bet some Saltine crackers and a glass of ginger ale will help settle your stomach.”
I grimace at the thought of putting anything in my mouth. “Maybe.”
She laughs. “Yeah… I don’t miss morning sickness. I couldn’t keep anything down the first couple of months. My mom would make coffee in the morning, and the smell made me gag.”
A shiver scampers down my spine. It’s the strangest sensation. I blink, refocusing on her. “What did you say?”
Ella steps into my office. “Coffee. I couldn’t handle the smell of it during my first trimester. I was constantly nauseous. And tired. I read in one of my pregnancy books that, in the beginning, it’s like your body is climbing a mountain every single day. That’s why you’re so exhausted.” She shrugs. “It makes sense, I guess. There were days when I just couldn’t get out of bed and make it here by the start of first hour.” Scrunching her brows, she cocks her head to the side. “Remember?”
A weak smile lifts the corners of my lips. “Of course, I remember. I’m just glad you feel better now.”
“Me, too. Actually, I feel a ton better. The doctor said all the hormones raging through your system cause morning sickness. It can really mess you up for a while. Some women never experience any nausea at all.” She gives me a sour look. “I wasn’t that lucky.”
Her words somersault through my head. “I think I’ve heard that.”
Nausea.
The smell of coffee making her sick.
More tired than usual.
My mind grows fuzzy around the edges as if I’m underwater and don’t have enough oxygen to get to the surface.
“Oh!” Ella shakes her head.
I snap back to the present and flinch at the thin film of sweat on my forehead and arms. I really need to go home and lie down.
“I almost forgot why I stopped by!” With a brilliant smile, she waves a piece of paper around. “I got an A on the AP Calc exam! Can you believe it?”
With effort, I sweep my own concerns away and pay attention to the girl in front of me. “That’s fantastic! Ella, I’m so proud of you!”
Still grinning, she nods. “It was really hard, and I spent a ton of time reviewing.”
“Just a few more weeks,” I say encouragingly. “And then you’ll be done.”
“Yeah.” Her smile dims in wattage. “Everyone is talking about how sad it is that high school is almost over, but I don’t feel that way. I’ll be relieved when all this is behind me.”
“I understand why you feel that way. This year hasn’t been easy. But you’ve gotten through it. And you’ve done well. You need to take pride in that.”
“My friends keep saying how excited they are about going away in the fall, living on their own, and doing whatever they want. They get to experience all that freedom.” Her expression sobers even more. “It feels like I’m really missing out by living at home. I won’t even be starting school in the fall.” She inhales a deep breath and blows it out. “I know it’s the right thing to do. There’s no way
I can handle taking classes and having a baby midway through the semester. That would be insane.”
“You’re right,” I agree quietly, “it would be extremely difficult. Which is why the plans you’ve made are your best option. With the baby due in late October, you’ll have a few months to settle into motherhood before the spring semester begins. I still recommend taking two or three classes instead of a full load. Attending college can be an adjustment all on its own. And so is having a baby. You just have to take it one step at a time. Everyone’s path is different.”
The edges of Ella’s lips tip upward. “Thanks, Ms. B. I guess I needed a little bit of a pep talk. I really appreciate you being there for me through all this.”
My eyes sting from her gratitude. I have to fight to keep my composure. “You’re welcome. You’re so smart and talented, Ella. I have high hopes for what you’re going to accomplish in life.”
The bell rings.
She sighs. “I’d better get going. I don’t want to be late for class.”
I give her a small wave. “Bye, Ella.”
As soon as she’s gone, I close the door to my office and lower myself onto a chair. The conversation I just had with Ella swims around in my head. Key words that never meant anything to me now take on new significance.
Nausea.
Exhaustion.
Emotional.
Is it possible that I’m… pregnant?
The very idea seems preposterous.
In all the years I’ve been sexually active, I’ve never had a pregnancy scare. I’ve never even been late.
I wince, trying to recall the last time I had my period. I rifle through my purse until I find my phone and open my period tracking app. Shock suffuses me as I realize that I’m two weeks late.
How didn’t I notice?
I was so caught up in my budding relationship with Roman that I stopped paying attention to pertinent details I normally wouldn’t miss.
If I thought the situation couldn’t get any worse, I was wrong.
So very wrong.
Chapter Thirty-Two
I rush toward my car in the school parking lot with one thing on my mind.
And that’s stopping at the pharmacy on the way home to get a pregnancy test.
In my two years as a high school counselor, I’ve had several girls pop into my office, frightened that they could be pregnant. The first thing I tell them is to talk to their parents because this isn’t an issue they should deal with on their own. The second is to take a test. For the most accurate results, I advise them to make an appointment with their family doctor or Planned Parenthood to run blood work and take a urine test. If they aren’t comfortable with either of those options, I tell them to pick up a home pregnancy test.
Most of the time, they stop in and tell me their results were negative. We then have a come-to-Jesus discussion regarding safe sex practices. Abstinence is the only foolproof method, but that’s not a realistic option for many teenagers nowadays. And I get that. We go over the different kinds of birth control available over the counter and by prescription, as well as the fact that using two methods of contraception is most ideal.
Clearly, the situation I now find myself in is chock-full of irony.
I’m still clinging to the possibility that I’m late. After all, pregnancy isn’t the only reason why a woman might skip her period. There are thyroid issues, stress, over-exercising…
I snort at the last one.
Over-exercising isn’t an issue for me. I’m lucky if I can talk myself into stopping off at the gym twice a week to run on a treadmill. And even that’s pushing it most of the time.
Ten minutes later, I steer into the drugstore parking lot. I exit my car with nerves dancing in my belly and head inside, searching the aisles until I find three shelves of pregnancy tests.
I study the single and double-stick options. Just to be safe, I’ll buy one with two sticks. Plucking a box from the shelf, I peruse the label and replace it, grabbing another to do the same.
Irritation builds as I try to figure out what makes one test better than the other. And who knew there were so many choices?
I see yet another brand and examine it as well.
Arghhh.
I just need to pick one and get out of here.
“Sofia?” a deep voice asks.
Startled out of my thoughts, I fumble the boxes. I whirl around as they fall to the floor and find Roman standing behind me. My cheeks heat as he bends down and scoops up the packages.
His eyes widen when he sees what he’s holding. “You’re pregnant?”
“I don’t know,” I rasp around the lump in my throat. “That’s what I need to figure out.”
He sets two tests on the shelf, holding on to the third. “I think this one will do.”
I nod in agreement. “I thought you’d taken my advice and left town.”
He gives me a hard stare. “You really thought I’d just pick up and leave you?” He steps closer and slips his fingers under my chin, tilting my face up until only he fills my vision and the universe shrinks to just the two of us. “I told you before that you’re mine and I’m not about to let you go. You asked for time to think things over, and that’s what I’ve been trying to give you. Time. A few days to get your head on straight. Maybe you haven’t seen me, but I’ve been here all along keeping you safe. Protecting you.”
Relief rushes through every cell of my body. I may have told him to leave, but that’s not what I wanted. It never occurred to me that he was just giving me space.
Roman rests his other hand on my abdomen. “And this child is mine, too.” His fingers spread. “I’m not leaving either of you,” he vows, his jaw clenched in determination.
“I don’t even know for sure if I’m pregnant.” Glancing around, I add in a lower voice, “I just realized I’m late today.”
He jerks his chin toward the front of the store. “Then we should figure it out, princess.” His lips quirk at the nickname.
I walked in here feeling alone and scared that I might be carrying the baby of the man who betrayed my family.
Roman’s disloyalty and deception still hurt, and I’m not sure how to get past them. Or if that’s even possible. My feelings for him are a thorny tangle of conflicted thoughts and emotions. He could have walked away from me and the situation with my family, but he chose not to. He’s here.
I don’t have to go through this ordeal alone, which makes all the difference in the world.
With a surge of confidence, I look at him and say, “Okay, let’s go.”
Chapter Thirty-Three
I clutch the pregnancy test so tightly that the foil wrapper crackles from the pressure. Now that I’m moments away from peeing on a stick, I’m hesitant to go through with it because I’m frightened of what the results will be.
I could be pregnant with Roman’s child.
My gaze travels over to where he sits at the foot of my bed, not looking the least bit concerned. Annoyance builds at his calm and cool appearance. But maybe it’s just for show. Maybe he hides his emotions better than me. My thoughts and feelings have always lingered close to the surface.
He stands and lays his hands on my shoulders. “Go take the test. No matter what happens, I’ll be right here with you. Everything will be okay.”
I tear up from the gentle encouragement and heartfelt promise. Life was already complicated before I realized I might be pregnant.
Now…
I don’t want to think about what we’ll do if the test is positive. I can’t imagine that carrying Roman’s child will change my father’s course of action when he discovers Roman spent the last five years collecting information on the Valentini organization in order to destroy it.
“How can you say that?” I shiver while thinking about what Papa might do to Roman.
He slides his arms around me and pulls me close. His strength radiates outward, filling me.
I grab hold of him and hang on for dear life.
His lips press against my forehead as his embrace tightens. “I’m not leaving, Sofia. You’re mine. We’ll deal with your family after we get a result. Let’s take it one step at a time, okay?”
I nod, needing to believe what he’s telling me. I can’t imagine us skating through this ordeal unscathed, and that scares me more than I’m willing to admit. Pregnancy or no pregnancy, I know the consequences will be severe.
Roman knows it, too.
“Go take the test,” he says softly, brushing a lock of hair off my cheek.
“Okay.” I trudge to the bathroom as if I’m marching to my death. Unfolding the directions, I sit on the toilet seat and scan them. They seem straightforward—open the test, hold it under a stream of urine, set it on a flat surface, and wait three minutes to see if my life has been irrevocably altered.
One pink line means not pregnant. Two means there’s a baby on board, a possibility that makes my belly spasm.
Tearing the wrapper, I lift the lid and take care of business. I cover the applicator tip with a plastic cap and set it on the counter afterward. My nerves are stretched impossibly taut, and my palms are a sweaty mess.
I pull myself together and open the door, stepping into my bedroom to find Roman pacing.
He stops when he sees me and arches his brows in question.
“I don’t know yet. The results take three minutes.”
He straightens his shoulders and nods, shifting his weight from one foot to another.
I’m not sure what to do with myself, and I realize while watching Roman fidget that neither does he. We’re both tiptoeing through this situation.
After a few minutes tick by, Roman gives me a sharp look. “The test should be done by now, right?”
Fear snakes through me.
Oh God, I don’t want to know.
The results waiting for us in the bathroom have the potential to change the course of my entire life.
I’m not sure if I’m ready.
Roman and I aren’t even in a relationship. I have no idea what we mean to each other. We’ve yet to work that out. And then there’s the fact that everything I knew about him, everything my family knew, is nothing more than a pack of skillfully crafted lies.
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