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“I’m going to lie down for a bit.”
Concern immediately crossed Tori’s face. “Okay, do you need any—”
“No.” It came out fast, rushed, and made me look guilty. I forced a smile. “I’m fine, I promise. I’ll… watch for fever and text you if I need anything.”
Big fat liar.
I didn’t stick around for anything else, just bolted to my room—of course—that was after I was away from their watchful eyes. The hallway stretched endlessly before me.
By the time I reached my room, my pulse was so loud I could hear it in my ears. I slipped inside and quietly shut the door behind me, grateful for the barrier separating me from the rest of the house.
At least for a few minutes.
Phineas occupied the center of my bed like a tiny flickering ember. His ginger-striped coat caught the morning light. He looked like a king surveying his domain. His green eyes opened the second he sensed me.
Maybe I was going insane, but I swear judgment poured from the twelve pound ball of fur.
I pointed at him. “Don’t start.”
His tail flicked once. He was terrified. Not.
My mind flashed back to the first night we’d made love. After when I was in the tub. Without thinking, my hand drifted to my stomach. Did it feel different? Rounder?
“For fuck’s sake. Stop,” I muttered under my breath.
That was ridiculous. Impossible even. Nothing was different about it. Absolutely nothing. I was imagining things. Phineas continued staring. The traitor.
“My tracking app has to be wrong.”
The cat yawned. A slow, exaggerated stretch followed. Then he crossed his paws and stared me down. It was the feline equivalent of calling me an idiot. Wonderful, just what I needed—more judgement.
“It’s just stress, Phineas. The fear of Sebastian finding out how far things have progressed between Pasha and me…” I gestured vaguely.
The cat immediately curled into a ball and shut its eyes. The damned tiny, purring apricot croissant wasn’t even subtle about it. Just a full dismissal. Betrayed.
Someone forgot to tell the mangy thing that I was the one who rescued him from death. Ungrateful.
“Fine then. You are no help at all. Should’ve gotten a girl cat.”
I began pacing. Back and forth. “Think, Isabella. If not stress, then maybe you’re dying. Maybe it’s some rare disease. Maybe—”
Oh God, I was grasping at fucking straws and mumbling to myself. The answer was the most obvious one. The nausea surged instantly. Violently so. I clamped my hand over my mouth and barely made it to my bathroom. Dropping to my knees, I reached the toilet just in time.
Not soon after, a soft knock sounded somewhere behind me. Then Pasha was standing in the open doorway. My stomach rolled again. A second later, his hand gathered my hair and held it away from my face as the last of what little I’d eaten came up. The sweet gesture had me sobbing.
“Princess, are you okay? Tori and Kinsley said you weren’t feeling well.”
My heart raced as the idea of being pregnant consumed me. I wasn’t like most women. I never visualized kids in my future, mainly because I couldn’t see myself with a man before Pasha.
“Lev, I need you,” I said, gulping in air.
“I’m here. What can I get for you? Do you need to go to the doctor?”
“No, please. This is not good, not good at all.”
In a matter of minutes, I somehow tapped into the well of tears Kinsley seemed to possess and couldn’t control the sobs that ripped from my throat. I pushed away from the toilet and stood up.
The concern on Pasha’s face remained, and I wanted to comfort him, to let him know I was okay, but I really wasn’t. I brushed my teeth and avoided his eyes in the mirror. When I couldn’t dodge the reality any more, our gazes locked.
