Rather than stop at a pharmacy and put all the second-guessing to rest, I go straight home. Coward. I seek out the solace only Crew can provide. It usually includes snuggling on the couch and then sex.
My body has become accustomed to the schedule梩o crave it. Crave him.
The elevator doors open, revealing Crew leaning against the wall beside the Monet. 揊inally! I was about to call you.?
I take him in: the combed hair, the tux, and the anxious, let抯 get going expression.
He does the same to me. 揧ou forgot.?The two words are flat. Annoyed. Any hopes of talking him into staying home, spooning on the couch, and admitting I might be pregnant flee like leaves on a windy fall day.
揘o,?I lie. 揗y meeting just ran long. I came home as soon as I could.?The last part, at least, is true. I rushed home because I wanted to see him. 揑抣l go change.?
I can抰 believe I forgot. Tonight is Kensington Consolidated抯 company party. I know it抯 a big deal for Crew, filled with important networking for cementing his status as future CEO.
Crew grabs my hand as I try to pass him. His annoyed expression falters, something softer appearing. 揂re you okay??
I paste a smile on my face. 揙f course. Just give me a few minutes, okay??I can抰 tell him. Not now, right before we have to go make small talk with important people all night. A part of me is relieved, even. There抯 no choice but to not utter the words.
It抯 not until I抦 inside my closet that I let the smile fall. I read somewhere, once, that smiling tricks your brain. The mere motion triggers happy chemicals into releasing, whether your smile is fake or real. Since I can抰 drink梡ossibly for nine months, but at least until I take a pregnancy test桰 could really use any drugs my body can produce naturally. And I抣l be forcing lots of smiles tonight.
I swap the pencil skirt and blouse I抳e been wearing all day for a floor-length silk gown. The emerald fabric whispers against my skin as I head into the bathroom to freshen my hair and makeup. Once I抦 satisfied with both, I grab a matching clutch and a strappy pair of stilettos. My feet cringe at the thought, but the fabric will drag on the floor if I don抰 wear heels.
Crew is in the same spot I left him in, scrolling through emails on his phone.
揜eady,?I chirp.
揧ou look beautiful,?he tells me, before we walk into the elevator.
I bite down on my tongue until the pain turns sharp, battling the urge to tell him what I抳e been preoccupied by all day. 揟hanks.?
揇id work go okay??
揧ep.?I hesitate. 揑 might need to go to Paris next week for some meetings.?
Crew doesn抰 look up from his phone. 揧eah. Sure.?
揙kay.?I rest my head back against the hard panels of the elevator, following Crew out into the underground garage when we reach the bottom floor. Roman is waiting beside the car. He gives me a respectful nod. 揗rs. Kensington.?
I smile at him before climbing into the SUV.
The ride to the Met is silent. I know Crew is nervous about tonight. He抯 been handling a big acquisition lately, and I抦 sure he抯 bracing for questions from investors. I抦 preoccupied by the possibility a tiny person might be growing inside me.
Walking from the car and up the steps is all it takes for my feet to start screaming at me. The climate controlled and smooth lobby floors of the museum are a slight relief. We抮e immediately escorted into the Great Hall. Polite chatter echoes off the soaring ceiling and stone walls. I barely have the time to take in any of the candles or flower arrangements decorating the space before people start approaching us. Swarming us.
Crew is the golden boy of Kensington Consolidated梠f all of Manhattan. The heir to the throne. Emperor-in-waiting.
I抳e never gotten the impression Arthur Kensington is well-liked. Business savvy, but not approachable. He抯 the guy you invite because you have to, not because you want to.
Oliver is more of an enigma. I spot him standing in the corner, talking to two other men in tuxedos. He seems like his father抯 lackey, willing to do whatever it takes to impress and hold his position. But I didn抰 think he was the type to screw his father抯 wife behind his back. No matter his intentions, he doesn抰 have the effortless charisma Crew possesses. The ability to make you feel special just for holding his attention. I noticed it when I was sixteen and told my father the only Kensington I would marry was Crew, and I see it now as he talks to the Spencers.
It feels like every single one of the thousand plus attendees have spoken to Crew by the time we reach our table梚n the very center of the hall. Arthur and Candace are already seated, but there抯 no sign of Oliver.
Arthur rises to kiss my cheek, playing the perfect father-in-law. 揝carlett. Stunning, as always.?