Detachment

by Shae Banks

  “I’m sorry, what?” I asked, not sure what he was getting at. Yes, I’d lost weight. Was that really surprising, given the three months I’d just had? How bloody miserable I was? I wasn’t one for a pity party as a rule, but hell.

  “Congratulations, Mr and Mrs Aldrich!” he announced, returning to his desk and holding up the small, square, pregnancy test in triumph.

  There was no mistaking the two, clear pink lines when he shoved it into my face.

  “Oh…” I trailed off, my stomach flip-flopping with shock and elation at the news. But reality kicked back in and I forced myself to look at Francis, dreading what expression was going to greet me on his face.

  It took a couple of seconds for his expression to catch up with whatever his head was doing, but there was no mistaking the telltale sign of annoyance as he clenched his jaw.

  I waited, my heart beating hard and fast in my chest. What was he thinking? What would he do?

  “The shock is to be expected,” Dr Harvey continued brightly, drawing my attention.

  “Is it?” I asked flatly.

  “Apologies.” Francis struggled, clearing his throat. “Yes. Shock. A very pleasant shock, Lyla,” he declared, reaching for my hand.

  I let him take it, but regretted it the moment his grip tightened.

  Pregnant? No. No, I couldn’t be. I’d been assured it couldn’t happen. Would never happen.

  “Have you stopped taking the metformin?” the doctor quizzed, breaking into my thoughts again.

  I winced at the pain in my knuckles, but tried to ignore it as I focused on the doctor. “No. No, I kept taking that because it helped with other symptoms. But I had an appendicitis a few weeks ago. Less than six. Haven’t been well at all… my brother died… I…”

  I was going to be sick.

  “Lyla, slow down,” Francis suggested soothingly, as he abruptly released my aching hand. “Let’s take this one step at a time.”

  Condescending prick. It wasn’t him being told he was carrying a baby belonging to who only knew.

  Obviously, it was between two of them, but neither were the man sitting beside me.

  The doctor looked at me questioningly, a small line forming between his brows. Not even glancing at Francis, I explained, “My appendix was removed just a few weeks ago. Surely, I couldn’t fall… I mean, wouldn’t the anaesthetic cause problems? Will the baby be okay?”

  The doctor tilted his head. “There is a risk of complication, but it’s quite small. Far smaller than the risk of complication following IVF, by all accounts. The risks increase with gestation, and most complications are easily managed. Knowing to be extra vigilant gives us an advantage early on, so you can expect extra, more detailed sonograms. Other than that, I see no reason why this pregnancy shouldn’t progress perfectly if you’re properly cared for throughout. With your condition, there are additional risks of gestational diabetes and preeclampsia, but those will both be closely monitored and dealt with as we go.”

  I rubbed my hand and leaned forward in my seat. “Can I see how far—”

  “Absolutely,” Dr Harvey chirped, getting to his feet. “You know the procedure by now.”

  Relieved to gain some distance from Francis, I eagerly followed him into the next room. I’d been in the adjacent room enough times and did indeed know the procedure.

  Without prompting, I stepped up to the chair and pulled the curtain closed for privacy.

  Alone, or as good as, I took a moment to close my eyes and breathe while I tried to shake the pain out of my hand. If Francis was angry enough to risk that type of reaction in front of the doctor, then I’d hate to think what his response would be once we arrived home.

  Pregnant.

  Did I dare hope?

  “Let me know when you’re ready and we’ll bring Francis in,” came a female voice I took to belong to a nurse.

  I wanted to object to him being in there at all with me, but I desperately wanted to see my baby. I managed to contain my excitement as I removed everything from the waist down and lifted the expertly folded sheet from the chair.

  I sat, careful to keep my bottom on the paper covering the whole thing for hygiene, positioned my legs in the supports, and spread the sheet to cover myself.

  “I’m ready,” I called, after I took a calming breath.

  Was I ready?

  There was a world of hell ahead of me. I’d walked straight into it of my own volition, but a baby changed things, and I had to find a way back out.

  It might not last, but right then, I had someone else, someone far more important than me or Francis, Thom, Ryan, or even Sam.

  A flurry of activity erupted around me. Screens turned on. The whirr of machines sounded as the chair was reclined and my legs raised. The crackle of a speaker.

  I ignored everything.

  “It’ll be a little cold. Just take a few slow breaths and relax,” the nurse instructed, as the doctor inserted the instrument.

  I breathed. I waited.

  My eyes closed as I heard it, the rhythmic whoosh of a heartbeat. My baby’s heartbeat. So fast. So determined.

  “Seven plus… five, I think,” the doctor announced. “That could go up or down a few days, but for now, everything looks perfect.”

  Finally, I peeked up at the screen.

  This wasn’t how I planned for it to happen. I wanted any child I was lucky enough to be graced with to be born into a stable, loving family. Francis and I were neither.

  Francis was nothing to that little life inside of me, but there it was, and I desperately hoped that even though the baby wasn’t his, that he’d stop putting his hands on me. He wouldn’t risk me losing the baby, would he?

  That tiny person was my new priority. Not Francis. Not Ryan. Not Thom or Sam. The flutter on that screen was everything, and it was up to me to keep that life safe. Loved. Protected at all costs.

  The remainder of the appointment went by in a blur. If I hadn’t been in shock, I might have thought it was weird how Francis kept track of everything the doctor said and even went as far as to make an appointment for a twelve-week scan before we left.

  I clutched the prescription I’d been given and followed Francis out of the building, not daring to speak. He didn’t seem angry, but with how quickly that switch flipped recently, I didn’t dare say anything.

  He stopped and looked back at me as I descended the stairs onto Harley Street. He showed very little emotion at all, and it had me worried, but it also made me think of Ryan and his expressive personality. How easily I could guess how he was feeling with just one look. I missed that.

  “Well, today has taken quite the surprising turn,” he finally commented, his tone bright as he held out his hand.

  I didn’t have a response to that. “Francis, I…”

  When I didn’t take his hand, he reached out and grabbed at my arm. The pain that exploded through me had me crying out, and it belied how cheerful his words were.

  He picked up his pace when onlookers turned their attention to him. He smiled, but between clenched teeth, he gritted out, “You came home. It’s all forgotten. We have far more important things to think about now.”

  With his free hand, he dug into his pocket and produced my wedding and engagement rings.

  It was hard not to recoil, and I had to force myself to try and snatch my arm from his death grip. “More important things?” I sniffled as I tried to fight back the tears wanting to fall.

  He stopped in the middle of the street and let go of my arm, but quickly snatched up my hand before I could step back. “Lyla, we have a child. That, our perfect miracle, is all we’ve been missing,” he told me, sliding the jewellery onto my ring finger.

  We? This wasn’t his baby.

  This was… well, it wasn’t his. It didn’t matter who the father was, Thom or Ryan, they weren’t him. We’d created this life entirely unintentionally, but it had been done through mutual respect, not a sense of duty and expectation. This baby was a product of our love for each oth
er, however brief it had been.

  Because I did love them.

  I missed them.

  And now I fully understood Thom’s approach.

  The relationship we’d forged in those few short weeks was far from conventional, but it worked for us in its own way. For the first time in years, I’d been truly happy. I had a home. I belonged there with them.

  The issue I had now was getting away from Francis. With the way he’d grabbed me moments after seeing a precious new life on the screen, I had no doubt he wouldn’t stop just because I was pregnant. I had to come up with something to get away. To get back to them. Not to force this on them, but to let them know about this new development.

  Then, I had to find a way to leave without anyone getting hurt.

  Time. I needed time to think. To plan. I’d done it before, and I could do it again. I had to. I didn’t have myself to consider anymore, I had a precious new life to think about, and I wouldn’t let anyone jeopardise the miracle I’d been given.

  I glanced at Francis. He was still talking—something about my blood pressure and controlling risks—but I wasn’t listening. His plans weren’t mine. This child was mine and I needed to figure out what the hell I was going to do.

  Because two things were certain—he wasn’t claiming someone else’s child and I wouldn’t allow him to hurt my baby the way he’d hurt me.

  To be continued.

  Note From Authors

  Thank you so much for reading. We would be very grateful if you would consider leaving a review.

  Also By

  Shae Banks & ZL Morris co-authoring

  Pieces of Me

  Detachement

  Fulfillment

  Shae Banks

  Discarded

  Things We Lost

  ZL Morris

  Field of Blood

  Tallulah Falls

  Willow Dark Storms

  Tallulah Rising

  For Friendship or Love

  Benji’s Decision

  Carrie Whitethorne

  Kingdom of Oz

  The Ruby Fortress

  The Quartz Tower

  The Prism City

  Three Tricksters

  Trickster’s Hunt

  Trickster’s Guard

  Riftkeepers

  with Analisa Denny

  Prime

  Pursuit

  Reckoning

  The Elder Mother

  Fused

  Daizlei Academy

  with Kel Carpenter

  Trial by Heist

  About the Author

  SHAE BANKS

  Shae is a writer of romance in all its forms. She also loves to explore people. Who they are. Where they've been. Where they're going. She does this from the North West of England surrounded by the rolling hills and the Lake District where she lives with her family, cat, and Labrador retriever.

  She is the alter ego of USA Today Bestselling Author Carrie Whitethorne.

  www.shaebanks.com

  Romance Without Limits Reader’s Group

  Shae Banks’s Readers Group

  Shae Banks Instagram

  Carrie Whitethorne’s Reader’s Group

  ZL MORRIS

  ZL Morris is a quirky author who refuses to be defined by one descriptor. While her current books dabble in the reverse harem genre, ZL plans to expand her writing to include all genres in romance. She likes stories of romantic mishaps and mayhem and looks forward to writing all of them! She can be found awake at odd hours of the night, which works well for her connecting with her American readers. Just don't hold her ramblings at four in the morning against her. It's when she comes up with the best ideas!

  www.zlmorris.com

  ZL Morris Reader’s Group

  ZL Morris Instagram