Christina tilts her head. “Why?”
“I’m just curious,” I say quickly, in case they think I’m judging them. “I mean, this place—it’s not exactly conventional.”
Queenie snorts. “Neither are most families.”
Tessa smiles. “My kids will know exactly who they belong to. They’ll grow up surrounded by people who’d die for them.”
Christina nods. “They learn early how to stand their ground. How to read people. How to protect themselves.”
“And,” Queenie adds sharply, “they know they’re loved. No confusion there.”
Something warm unfurls in my chest, tangled with fear and possibility.
I nod, swallowing. “That… makes sense.”
No one pushes further.
***
After breakfast, I lose myself in the archives again, cataloguing documents, cross-referencing names, building timelines. There’s comfort in order. In knowing where everything fits.
I’m halfway through a box when Christina appears in the doorway.
“Hey,” she says lightly. “Got a minute?”
“Sure.” I swivel my chair to face her.
She steps inside, closing the door behind her. Her gaze is kind but assessing, the way it always is.
“You were a little… distant at breakfast,” she says. “Everything okay?”
I hesitate. Then I shrug. “Just a lot on my mind.”
She nods like she expected that. “I know I’m still fairly new here,” she says, smiling self-deprecatingly. “But if you’re having trouble fitting in, or if something’s bothering you… I can help. Show you the ropes.”
The offer loosens something in my chest.
“It’s not that,” I say softly. Then I take a breath and decide, abruptly, to trust her. “I think I might be pregnant.”
Christina’s eyes widen. Then her face lights up so fast it’s almost comical.
“Oh my God,” she whispers. “Emily.”
“Shh,” I hiss, panicking. “Please don’t tell anyone. I don’t even know for sure, yet.”
She presses a hand to her mouth, visibly vibrating with excitement. “Sorry. Sorry. Of course. Secret.”
My heart is pounding. “I haven’t said anything to Onyx. I don’t want to, until I’m certain. There’s so much going on right now.”
Christina nods seriously. “That’s fair.” She pauses, then grins. “I’ve got test kits. In my room.”
My breath catches. “You do?”
“Several,” she says and gestures to her softly rounded belly. “I didn’t believe the first test so Slate went out and ended up buying way more than I needed.”
Relief and terror crash together inside me.
“Could I…?” I trail off.
