Mom was kidnapped by Taylor, he threatened my life if she didn’t get information about the Yakuza deal.
She only did it to save my
There’s a black streak ending in a jagged tear in the paper, like something must have scared the writer.
I recognize the handwriting, it’s Sophie’s. One of her many lists. This time, one that she hoped would help her plead her mother’s case.
Nosy cousins were not enough, nor my mother’s gentle hints and nudges about “trust and forgiveness.” The Universe must have decided to send Miss Kevin deliver the final cosmic slap to make me sit up and pay attention.
Sophie is mine for life, which means I am hers as well. Trust. Truth. Transparency. Three words I hate, but it’s time.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Sophie…
“Hmm… ye worrying about one night of missing a rubber is a wee bit like closing the barn door after the horse has left.”
I’m sitting on the sagging couch in the intern’s locker room at Glasgow Royal Infirmary as Maisie lounges next to me, holding a plastic stick.
“Soothing,” I say. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome,” she smiles at me pleasantly.
“And it’s not like I thought I was pregnant from unprotected sex less than like, aweekago. I just said that it got me thinking when I started throwing up.”
“Well, congratulations, my brother’s super sperm managed to knock ye up in less than two months.” She makes a face. “Ah, god. I just joked about my brother’s seminal fluids.”
I’d come to the hospital to take Maisie to lunch, and just the smell of old coffee and disinfectant was enough to make me lose breakfast. She’d taken one look at my green complexion and dragged me down to the OB/GYN floor.
“I can’t be pregnant,” I groan, staring at the scatter of plastic tests.
Maisie had pulled ten of them out of the supply closet, “Just to be sure.”
“Well, it’s a wee bit sudden,” she admits.
“I was going to law school in the fall,” I say.
“Women have been pregnant and in graduate school before,” she says dryly. “There’s three heavily pregnant interns here at the hospital, though I sure as hell wouldn’t do it.”
“Do you really think Michael would let me go back to school if I’m pregnant with the MacTavish heir?” I know I’m feeling sorry for myself and it’s unattractive. “Law school was the one thing I’d earned on my own. Your family didn’t have to sponsor me, or pay for it. I just…”
“Sophie love.” Maisie is as serious as I’ve ever seen her. “If ye aren’t ready, we can fix this.”
“What?”
“I can make arrangements,” she tries to smile. “I would be sad, but this should be your choice.”
“No,” I say instantly. “No.” My hand goes to my stomach protectively, even though the fetus is the size of a cashew at this point. “I was stunned for a minute. I don’t know how Michael’s going to react, but…” I’m sobbing, Maisie’s sobbing, and then we’re laughing because why not? “I want this baby. Michael might be freaked out at first- holy shit, Maisie! I’m pregnant!” We sit on the grimy plastic couch, hugging and holding a fistful of tests.
“Well then,” she says, back in doctor mode. “Let’s run a blood test and see how far along ye are.”
While we’re waiting for the results, she says, “I am a wee bit surprised. Michael’s always been so adamant about wrapping it.”
“Maybe it’s the piercing,” I say without thinking. “You know, tearing a hole or something? It’s right at the tip, so-”
“Jesus, Mary and Joseph will ye shut the hell up?” She’s cringing, “Why did ye tell me that? Oh, god I’ll never get that out of my brain!”
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” I wave my hands appeasingly. “I wasn’t thinking!”
