Page 86

The single word destroyed what little composure I had left. I threw my arms around him. For a second, neither of us moved. Then his arms wrapped around me.

A shaky breath escaped me as I inhaled the familiar scent of him. His heartbeat thumped steadily beneath my ear. I listened to it, trying to memorize it. Trying to borrow some of its strength. Words felt insignificant to convey my turmoil.

His hand slid into my hair and rested there. I tightened my hold. I wanted to forget this whole thing. To stay in his arms and in bed all day instead. I was feeling irrational and went through my con list of keeping the baby once more.

Unplanned. Not married. Fear of the unknown. My family’s reaction. Sucking as a mother. Giving birth.

It all seemed like nonsense and I hated that my brain leaned toward the negative aspects. I had a list of pros, but I refused to entertain them in any capacity.

Maybe that wasn’t the right approach, but vacillating back and forth was too mentally exhausting. Pasha and I had moved forward, but this area was still fragile in every way.

Once more, I chastised myself for not opening up to Marcel about all of this. It was too late now, at least for this morning. I could talk to him later about it. It would probably be a good idea.

Maybe I could text him in the car and give him a heads up. That would be the right thing to do. I took a deep breath to steady myself.

“I’m ready,” I said, pulling away.

He nodded, and I hated the look of utter pain registering in his eyes. We walked to the car in silence, the air thick with all the unspoken words. The drive to the clinic felt endless, each mile stretching out as my mind raced.

As Pasha weaved the Bentley in and out of traffic, I interlinked my fingers across my stomach. Absent-mindedly, he reached for my hand with his eyes fixed on the road. When he found them, his head jerked to look at me for a second.

With tender care, he moved one of mine away and left his cradled against me. His cheek twitched, and his jaw tightened. I tried to focus on the music playing through the speakers, the scenery passing by, the movement of the car, anything to distract myself from the warm weight of his hand over our child.

“We’re almost there,” he offered, breaking the silence.

I nodded, my throat too tight to use words. The tears came once more and this time I let them fall. Marcel would say this is part of the process and to deny my feelings would only cause issues later.

I spent the drive trying to convince myself to keep moving forward. Somehow it worked. By the time we pulled into a parking space, I wasn’t holding myself together by quite such a frayed thread.

The waiting room of the clinic was quiet, and a few other patients were there in various stages of pregnancy, by the look of the two of them. We approached the reception desk.

“Good morning. How can I help you?”

“I have an appointment with Dr. Mansfield,” I said.

“Name?” she asked before her gaze shifted to Pasha.

“Isabella Caruso.”

“Hmm, yes. New patient? Oh… you’ll want this form instead.”

Her brow furrowed. As she clipped the forms to a board, her eyes moved once more to Pasha. I couldn’t help but notice her gaze lingering on his face and trailing down his body appreciatively. My body tightened with a sudden, irrational surge of jealousy.

Stupid hormones.

We found a seat, and I started filling out the forms. The questions seemed endless, and my mind wandered to the receptionist again. Was she really checking him out? I shook my head. This wasn’t a good use of my brainpower. That urge to throw up hit, and I breathed through it.

“She’s probably a cock-craving whore too,” I mumbled under my breath.

“What was that, princess?” Pasha asked with a smirk.

“Nothing. When we leave here, we’re stopping for a leash and collar.”

The words flew out of my mouth, and a rich chuckle reached my ears.

“Well, my favorite color is red, so I’m sure Lysander will have plenty in his shop. You’ll look gorgeous in it,” he said.

I slapped my hand down on the clipboard and glared. “It’s for you, not me.”