The doctor claps me on the shoulder. “Congratulations, Mr. Bellanti. You’re going to be a father.”
7
CANDI
My heart starts to race.I can’t believe what I’m hearing.
“Are—are you sure?”
The doctor stares at me, her brows knitting together. “Yes. My apologies. I thought the nurse had informed you already.”
“Maybe she did? I can’t remember.” I was so fuzzy when I got here.
“It’s all right. You were having trouble staying awake when you arrived.”
She gives my shoulder a light squeeze, but it does nothing to quell the panic I’m feeling.
“You’ve been through quite the trauma,” she goes on. “Once we realized you were pregnant, we needed to do an ultrasound to double-check the health of the baby after what you’d been through. You’re about seven weeks along.”
I open my mouth but then close it again. My mind is blown. I don’t know what to say. I don’t know what to think. One minute I’m helping Juliana taste cakes for her wedding and the next I’m being told that I’m pregnant with Armani’s baby.
Oh God. Armani.
My stomach drops when I look at him. He’s…glaring at me. As if I’ve done something wrong. As if I’m not just as shocked as he is right now.
If the doctor senses the tension in the room, she doesn’t acknowledge it. She pulls a card holder from the pocket of her long white coat, flips through it, and hands me a small card.
“Here’s the number to our maternity center,” she says. “All the information you need will be provided to you upon your discharge, as well. A nurse will be in contact to help you schedule your first obstetric appointment, though of course you’re welcome to seek care elsewhere if you choose. In the meantime, if you have any questions, please do give the center a call.”
I don’t quite grip the card, and it flutters onto my lap.
“I’ll get started on your discharge paperwork,” the doctor says. She looks between Armani and me, seeming to finally realize that something is amiss. “And Mrs. Bellanti, I’ll send a nurse in to do your final checks and get you ready to go. Mr. Bellanti, it would be best to give her some privacy while she’s getting dressed.”
She leaves, and the tension in the room grows by the thousands.
The first thing Armani says is, “I assumed you were using contraception.”
His words are stilted, empty, and emotionless.
“I never said that. We never discussed it.”
“So you had unprotected sex with me knowing full well that you weren’t using contraception? What did you think would happen?”
I narrow my eyes. “Andyouhad unprotected sex withmewithout ever inquiring about my birth control status, and rarely bothering to use a condom. How is this all my fault?”
He shakes his head and digs a hand through his hair. “You did this on purpose.”
I glance down at the card the doctor gave me, but the words go blurry as tears sting my eyes and I quickly look away. After everything I’ve been through, combined with the shock of finding out that I’m about to be a mother, how can Armani act so cruelly right now?
“Why would I do this on purpose?” I choke out.
“Why do women ever get pregnant on purpose? To trap the man they’re with. You knew our agreement was up in a few more months, so you tried to trick me—”
“Trick you?” I sputter. “Are you serious?”
I’m suddenly exhausted, as if his anger has taken every last bit of strength I had. Shaking my head, I settle against the pillow and cross my arms.
“I’m not trying to trap you, Armani. I had no idea. I guess with everything going on, I wasn’t really paying attention to my cycles and…”
