I could go from cheerful to growling and furious in seconds.
What if Roman and I had caught something? Syphilis?
Didn’t that rot your mind?
The thought sent a fresh wave of nausea rolling through me.
Roman shifted beside me, exhaling through his nose before parting the leather curtain. “Stop the cart,” he called to the driver.
I frowned. “Where are you going?”
My voice came out whiny and needy.
Roman climbed out, his boots hitting the ground with a heavy thud.
“I’ll be back.”
I narrowed my eyes at him. “You want to get away from me, don’t you?”
He didn’t reply.
Or maybe he did, and I didn’t hear it.
Either way, I couldn’t blame him.
He had been patient, gentle, and relentless in his care for me, but I had become unbearable. Even I was sick of myself.
We continued moving, Roman riding horseback outside the wagon while I slipped in and out of restless sleep.
Then—an hour later?—
The wagon stopped.
The muffled conversations of travelers outside grew louder, the indistinct rumble of voices rising in urgency.
I was about to pull back the leather curtain and see what was happening?—
But then?—
The horses lurched forward.
The wagon jerked, then broke into a gallop.
The world tilted, swayed, spun.
I clutched my stomach, my nausea turning violent.
What the hell was happening?
Finally, the wagon came to a stop.
The curtains parted, and Emily’s round belly and knowing gaze filled the space.
“Get up, Olivia.”
She stood there, hands resting atop her belly, her face firm with authority.
Beside her, Rosie smiled sweetly, bright as the morning sun.
