Telling him the truth…
Or watching his face when he realized I had been carrying it for this long without him knowing.
1
AVA REYNOLDS
Iarrived in Chicago two days later.
The moment I stepped through Saint and Zahra’s front door, the aroma of the house made me emotional. It smelled like Zahra’s favorite candles and whatever expensive scent housekeeping had lingering through the vents. The aroma was familiar, warm, and safe. And still, it made me want to turn around and walk right back out.
For a few seconds, I just stood in the doorway with my carry-on in one hand and my oversized tote on my shoulder. I’d had all of my other belongings and what I’d accumulated over the last four months shipped back so I didn’t have to deal with all of that luggage at the airport.
I stood there, taking in the massive foyer, the polished floors, the high ceilings, and the luxury. Just a few months ago, these beautiful walls had felt like a very expensive cage.
And they still did.
A part of me wished I was still in Thailand, eating fresh fruit, haggling with vendors, building my hair business, and keeping my pregnancy to myself. It had been easier there. I didn’t have to think about the drama that was waiting on me here or the factthat the second everybody found out I was pregnant, my peace would be over, especially once Reek found out.
My stomach turned at that thought. Actually, everything in me had been in knots since the plane landed.
I was overwhelmed by too much at once; hiding the pregnancy, telling Zahra, seeing her face when I told her who the father was, telling Reek, experiencing his reaction when he found out, and even actually seeing him at all, after all these months of silence. I hadn’t heard his voice, seen his face, or had to stand in front of him and act like he didn’t still own me.
That alone was enough to make me sick to my stomach, outside of the morning sickness.
“Ava!” Zahra’s voice exploded through my thoughts, and when I looked up, she was at the top of the stairs with the biggest smile on her face.
My heart softened instantly. She had one hand on the railing and the other under that huge, round belly of hers, moving way too fast for somebody that far along. I had seen her big belly countless times on FaceTime but seeing it in person was different. Her stomach sat heavy in front of her, stretching the soft cream lounge set she had on. She was glowing, beautiful, and smiling so hard it almost made me forget my own mess for a second.
Almost.
We had talked every day while I was in Thailand. Sometimes more than once a day. But I still knew she had been scared I wasn’t coming back. And, honestly, there had been moments when I wasn’t sure I was.
“Girl, slow down,” I called out. “Stop running before you fall and hurt yourself.”
She kept on coming anyway, one hand on her belly, the other sliding along the railing while she grinned at me like she hadn’t seen me in ten years instead of a few months.
The second she hit the last step, she ran towards me. “Oh my God, you’re home!” Her arms went around me so tight and fast that my whole body locked up.
I hugged her back, but every nerve I had went on high alert.
Please don’t feel it.
Please don’t feel it.
I had on an oversized sweatshirt and loose joggers for a reason. My little bulge still wasn’t much. I was young, in shape, and the food was so much healthier in Thailand that I had actually leaned out everywhere else. My face was a little slimmer. My arms looked good. If anything, I just looked a little bloated. Unlike Zahra, whose baby bump was huge and impossible to miss, mine was still small enough to hide if I wore the right clothes and kept people from holding onto me too long. So, while Zahra squeezed me and rocked me side to side, I fought the urge to pull away too quickly and make it obvious.
“I missed you so much,” she said, finally letting me go enough to hold me at arm’s length. Her eyes ran over my face. “Look at you. Your skin is glowing. Thailand did you good.”
I blushed, trying to act normally while subtly shifting my tote in front of me.
She rolled her eyes. “You were over there living your best life while I was home getting big as hell.”
“You look good,” I told her honestly. “Very good. But stop flying down those stairs like that. I’m serious. If you fall, Saint would lose it.”
As if he’d heard his name, the back patio door slid open, and Saint stepped in from outside.
The cool air followed him in for a second before the door shut behind him. He had on jogging pants, a fitted white tee, and that usual dangerous ease about him, like he could be laughing on the patio one second and shooting somebody in the face the next.
