I stand on shaky legs and approach the counter. The test lies there, innocent-looking but life-altering. I force myself to look at the result window.
Two lines. Clear as day.
"Shit," I whisper.
Izzy is beside me in an instant, peering at the test. "Let's try another one. Sometimes they give false positives."
We go through the process four more times, with four different brands. The results are unanimous.
Positive. Positive. Positive. Positive.
I sink to the bathroom floor, my back against the tub, knees pulled to my chest. Izzy sits beside me, her shoulder pressed against mine in silent support.
"This can't be happening," I say, though the evidence is lined up on my bathroom counter. "I can't be pregnant. Not now. Not withhisbaby."
"What are you going to do?" Izzy asks softly.
The question hangs in the air between us. What am I going to do? The options swirl in my mind, each with its own complications, its own heartaches.
"I don't know," I admit. "I just... I don't know."
Tears well up and spill over before I can stop them. Izzy wraps an arm around my shoulders, pulling me against her.
"Are you going to tell him?" she asks after a moment.
Will he even care? Will he think I did this on purpose, to trap him somehow? The thought makes me sick all over again.
"I don't know that either," I say, wiping at my tears. "He made it pretty clear he didn't want anything serious with me. A baby is about as serious as it gets."
"He still has a right to know," Izzy says, though I can tell from her tone she'd be just as happy if I never spoke to him again.
"I know." I rest my head on her shoulder. "I just... I need time to process this first. To figure out what I want before I involve him."
She nods, squeezing me tighter. "Whatever you decide, I'm with you. All the way."
We sit there on the cold bathroom floor, surrounded by positive pregnancy tests, while our forgotten spaghetti sauce congeals on the stove. In the space of an hour, my entire future has shifted on its axis, rearranging itself around this new reality.
I'm pregnant with Alexander Kingsley's baby. And I have absolutely no idea what comes next.
Tristan's office gleams with harsh white light that makes my already sensitive stomach tighten. I smooth my dress and step through the glass doors. The surprise hits me immediately: Julian Fairfax sits beside Tristan, both men rising as I enter. I wasn't expecting a joint meeting. I wasn't expecting to face them both while my world is cracking apart at the seams.
"Camille," Tristan says with a slight nod. His voice is cool and precise, like everything about him. "Thank you for coming in."
"Hope you don't mind me crashing," Julian adds, his smile warming his entire face. "I was in the neighborhood.”
I force my professional smile into place, though it feels like a mask. "Of course. It’s nice to see you again."
I take the seat across from them, setting my portfolio on the gleaming table. Two days. It's been two days since those four tests lined up on my bathroom counter, all displaying the same life-altering truth. Two days of panic, of weighing options, of imagining impossible futures. Two days of telling absolutely no one except Izzy.
And now I'm sitting across from Alexander's friends, men who might very well know what happened between us in Antigua. Men who might someday learn they're in the presence of the woman carrying their friend's child.
The thought sends a fresh wave of nausea rolling through me.
"You've brought the preliminary concepts?" Tristan asks, his blue eyes sharp and assessing.
I nod, opening my portfolio with hands I force to remain steady. "For both projects, though they're taking different directions based on your specific needs."
I begin presenting the designs, grateful for the familiar territory. Work I understand. Work I can control. Unlike the chaos of my personal life, design has rules and principles I can rely on.
