“I’m scared,” I whisper. “I … I love him.”
She pulls back, and her brows furrow in confusion. That’s when I realize what I said … and what she doesn’t know—that our marriage wasn’t based on our feelings for each other. Only things have changed, and I’ve caught feelings for my husband.
But then she nods once and says, “Of course you do, and loving someone can be scary.”
I sigh in relief. As much as I want to tell her the truth, I don’t want her to worry about me. All she wants is for her kids to be happy and in love, and finding out her only daughter was forced into marriage will upset her.
“After everything you’ve been through, you deserve to be loved,” she continues. “And it’s clear that Kane loves you. Let him in, honey.” She kisses my forehead.
“Okay,” I breathe out. “Tonight, after the gala, I’ll talk to him.”
“Good.” She smiles. “Now, what do you say we do a little retail therapy for the gala tonight to take your mind off everything?”
“Actually,” I say, thinking about what Kane said regarding my shopping habits, “if it’s okay with you, I’d like to stay here and bake something yummy with you, like we used to. I have plenty of dresses I can wear tonight.”
Growing up, I used to cook Sunday dinner with my mom every week, and my favorite part was baking the dessert.
Mom beams. “I would love to bake with you. Any cravings?”
She winks, and I wrap my arms around her, hugging her again, thankful that I have my mom in my life. I missed her so much when I was in Russia, and even when I moved home, I struggled with letting my family in.
“I don’t even know if I’m pregnant,” I mutter.
“Well, there’s only one way to find out …”
“Not yet,” I tell her. “Right now, I just want to spend the afternoon with you.”
Everything else can be dealt with later.
“You got it,” she says. “What do you say we make your favorite dessert—dulce de leche?”
“Now you’re talking!”
Mom and I go to the grocery store to buy everything we’ll need, and then we spend the rest of the day baking my favorite dessert. Afterward, we go by Dominick and Peyton’s and then Dani and Matteo’s to deliver them each a dessert since we made one for everyone—where I learn my entire family is also attending the same gala.
At least I’ll have the support of my family tonight.
“You got this,”I say to myself several hours later, standing in front of the floor-length mirror, forcing a smile on my face as I double-check my appearance.
Tonight, I’m wearing a dress that I bought several months back but have not worn yet. It’s a stretchy, off-the-shoulder sky-blue satin dress. It was formfitting when I got it, but when I put it on a few minutes ago, I couldn’t ignore the fact that it almost didn’t zip up, forcing myself to face the fact that there’s a good chance I really am pregnant, which I don’t understand because I’m on birth control and I have never missed a single pill.
Kane joked about his sperm breaking through the barrier my pills provide, but it was nothing more than that—a joke.
My hand goes to my belly, and a wave of emotion crosses over me at the thought of being pregnant with his baby. While it was nice to spend the afternoon with my mom, pushing everything else to the side—including the idea that I might be pregnant—now thatI’m back home, with nothing to distract myself, the stress is back to weighing down on me.
It will be different this time,I tell myself, gliding my hand over the area where—if I am pregnant—the baby is growing.
I won’t be forced to have an abortion. I’ll get to experience every part of my pregnancy. And then I’ll give birth to a sweet little baby and become a mom.
I’ll have everything I’ve ever wanted.
The baby.
The family.
A husband who …
I swallow thickly.
