Pregnant.
With my baby.
A sharp, primitive rush hits me low in my gut—so fast it’s almost dizzying. Heat. Possession. Awe. Something close to fear, except it isn’t fear. It’s the realization that the world just shifted under my feet, and I don’t want to step back onto the old ground.
I look down the hall toward my bedroom.
She’s in my bed. Asleep. Finally resting.
I should put it back.
I should close the clasp and hang her purse where I was going to hang it and pretend I never saw it until she’s ready to tell me herself.
My fingers don’t move.
My mind keeps replaying the last couple of weeks—every night she showed up, every time she tried to be strong, every time her body trembled, and she acted like it didn’t matter. The way she flinched when her own thoughts got too loud. The way she ran to the bathroom tonight and Bianca followed.
I swallow once, slow.
I’m not angry.
I’m not even surprised, if I’m honest. We haven’t exactly been careful. And I’ve been greedy with her in every way I know how.
But I am—
I take a breath.
In the dark hall, I smile, unable to help myself.
I am definitely done pretending this is temporary.
I turn and walk quietly back to the bedroom. I put the pregnancy test back in her purse and hang it on the hook by the dresser.
She’s curled up on my side now, like her body chose it unconsciously.
“Mine,” I whisper, the word barely air.
Not as a threat.
As a fact.
I strip down, move around the bed, and slide in behind her carefully. I slide one arm around her waist and pull her back against me, my mouth near her hair.
She shifts in her sleep, a tiny sound in her throat, and relaxes into me like she knows I’m here. Like she knows she’s safe here.
I stare into the dark for a long moment, wide awake.
Because tomorrow she’s going to tell me.
Or I’m going to tell her I know.
Either way, it’s happening.
And I’m not letting her carry it alone for one more second.
Chapter Forty Five
Erica
