These pangs of longing should get better with time. At least that’s what I tell myself. So far, they haven’t gotten any better though. Every time one of them comes on, it feels like someone’s battering their fists against my heart.
Nona comes up to me, snapping me back to the present. “Cara mia.” She leans in and presses a kiss to both of my cheeks. “You must have been so worried about your father. Thank goodness, he’s back. You know what they say, when it rains, it pours. This family’s been through so much lately.”
I nod stiffly. Nona doesn’t know I left. No one in the family does except for Mamma, Cleo, Vince, and a few of Papà’s men, but they’ve been instructed to keep their mouths shut.
“I know, Nona. Hopefully, we’re on the other side of it now.”
“At least we have your wedding to look forward to. I can hardly believe it’s happening next week.”
A wave of nausea hits me.
Nona sees my expression fall and frowns. “Are you all right? You look pale.”
“I’m a bit tired.”
“Maybe you should go lie down. There’s a nasty bug going around.”
Is it possible I’m getting sick? It’s the last thing I need right now. I’m barely functioning as is.
I glance around. I thought Rafaele would be here, but he’s either really late or he’s not coming, and I’m not even sure why I’m waiting up for him. Appearances, I guess. He’s impossible to read, and I’m being careful not to do anything that might rub him the wrong way. I can’t give him any reason to doubt the story I told him.
“You’re right,” I say, squeezing Nona’s hand. “I’m going to get some rest.”
She gives me a kind smile. “Go, amore. I’ll let Pietra know.”
I trudge upstairs to my room and lie down on my bed.
Where could I have picked up a virus? Maybe Pilates, since that’s the only place I’ve been allowed to go when I want to leave the house. Even for that, I have Mamma as my escort.
There’s a dull throb at the back of my head, and my stomach just won’t settle. I go over everything I ate in the past twenty-four hours. Salad with canned tuna, some Greek yogurt, a veggie omelet… I doubt it could be any of those things. Sometimes, I get a bit of a headache on the first day of my period, but this isn’t the right week for it.
Hold on.
My eyes spring open. When was the last time I had my period?
I roll off the bed and hurry to check the calendar on the desk. A quick scan tells me I should have gotten my period last week, the day after I returned.
There’s a sinking sensation in my gut. I’m about a week late. I’m never late. I’ve always been as regular as a damn clock.
There’s a knock on the door. “Gem?”
It’s Cleo. “Come in,” I call out, my pulse loud in my ears.
She walks in, her face lined with concern. “Nona said you aren’t feeling well. I wanted to check in on you.”
“Close the door and sit down.”
“Is everything okay?”
“No. I’m nauseous. And I just realized I’m late.”
Her forehead wrinkles with confusion. “Late?” When the realization hits her, her eyes widen. “Your period? Wait, what? Have you—”
“Yes. With Ras.” I can feel a wave of panic creeping up my spine. I climb off the bed, unable to sit still. “Cleo, the night Rafaele killed Ludovico, Ras and I…” I swallow. “We had sex. Unprotected. I took the morning-after pill. It was around the time I was ovulating.”
Cleo’s shaking her head. “If you took the pill, you should be fine, right?”
I should be. I mean, I took it hours after we did it and those things work well, don’t they?
I blink, trying to recall the events of that morning and when I do, my stomach plummets all the way to my feet. “Oh God. Cleo, I threw up.”
Right after Papà hit me. It was less than an hour after I took the pill, and that might not have been enough time for it to fully digest.
“I might be pregnant,” I mutter as panic explodes inside my chest. “I need to take a test.”
Shit, shit, shit. I should stay calm down, at least until I know for sure what’s happening, but that’s easier said than done.
“How do I get one?” I ask Cleo. “I can’t leave the house unescorted, especially not to a pharmacy. Mamma will just say I should tell my driver to get me what I need.” I perch on the edge of the windowsill, my stomach clenching with anxiety. “I have no idea what to do.”
“Okay, take a deep breath,” Cleo says, squeezing my hands. “I’ll get you a test.”
“How?”
“Don’t worry about it.” She presses a kiss to my cheek and gets up. “I’ve got it, okay? I’ll be back in five minutes.”
I’m so agitated, all I can do is nod and watch as she hurries out of my room.
As soon as she’s gone, the weight of my situation presses down on me. I can hardly breathe.
My throat tightens. My hands find the windowsill and curl over its edge. It’s March, but winter’s grip hasn’t let up a single inch. Flakes of snow dance through the air in slow motion before settling on the driveway. If Ras were here, he’d no doubt be complaining about how damn cold it is.
I stare at the snow for a long time. Long enough for Cleo to return. She’s wearing a hoodie over her outfit, and she takes a box out of the center pocket. “I went through the maids’ cubbies. You know Melody’s always having pregnancy scares, so I thought she might have one of these.”
“Thank you,” I say numbly as I open the box and read the instructions.
My hands shake.
It seems simple enough. Just pee on a stick and wait. What they don’t say is that the three-minute wait is excruciating.
I sit on the bed biting my nails while Cleo’s silent beside me. When the timer on Cleo’s phone goes off, we both jump up.
“Do you want me to check it?” she asks when I don’t immediately dash to the bathroom.
I swallow. “No. I’ll do it.”
My legs are weak as I make my way to the bathroom. My heart is pounding so loudly in my chest that it feels like it might burst. I try to take deep breaths, but they come out shaky and uneven. I close the bathroom door behind me and stare down at the stick lying by the sink.
Two lines.
Two fucking lines.
“Gem?” Cleo appears in the doorway.
I don’t trust myself to speak, so I just hold up the test.
There’s a long pause before she responds. “Shit.”
I brush past her and collapse in a chair across from my bed.
Pregnant. The word echoes in my mind, refusing to be silenced. How could I have been so careless?
I know how. That day was pure chaos. I didn’t even think of the morning-after pill when Ras picked me up off my father’s office floor.
But now I have to think about it.
I’m fucking pregnant.
“This is a disaster,” I say numbly. Rafaele won’t marry me while I’m pregnant with another man’s baby. If I tell our parents, I’m sure they’ll make me get rid of it.
I feel sick just thinking of doing that. Not because of my moral beliefs, but because this is our baby. A part of Ras inside of me. My hand presses over my flat belly, thinking of how he’d react if he knew.