I mentally think back over the last few months and try to remember the last time I had my period. It’s just been so chaotic and so stressful lately, I never gave it a second thought. I honestly can’t remember when it last was. Maybe two months ago?
“This arrangement still expires in three months,” Armani says.
Disgust fills me at his cruel reminder. I’m still so shell-shocked that I don’t even know how I feel about the pregnancy, but apparently my fake husband does.
“Asshole!” The words burst out of me. “I was almost blown up today, with a baby inside me. I could’ve died and I never would’ve known…but now that Idoknow, now that we both know, all you can think of is covering your own ass?”
There’s no discernible reaction in his Resting Bellanti Face.
“Or perhaps you’d rather I ‘take care’ of the problem as quickly as possible,” I hiss, even though there is no way in hell I’d consider ending this pregnancy. At least, not for him.
“That’s not what I said,” he growls. “I’m simply reiterating the fact that our timeline is in no way affected by this…situation.”
An indignant huff comes out of my mouth. “Wow, Armani. Just…wow. I knew you were a cold bastard, but this is just beyond.”
He spreads his arms wide. “Why should this change anything between us? I married you for a very specific reason. Because it was in the best interest of my family, and our business. I sure as hell never asked for a baby.”
Turning my face away, I swallow hard. I’m two seconds away from falling apart. I don’t look at him, nor do I expect a response to what I’m about to say.
“I don’t want to argue about this,” I manage. “As far as I’m concerned,we’re done. All you have to do is let me go so I can handle this on my own. I don’t need you in my life.”
“I’m not done with you, Candi. You still owe me,” he says. “And I intend to collect.”
Whipping my head in his direction, I grip the thin hospital sheet with both hands as I yell, “Get out! Now! Get. Out!”
He stands his ground and I yell louder, rage and adrenaline pumping through me.
I can hear footsteps rushing down the hall. Nurses, probably.
Armani spins and storms to the door, looking back over his shoulder to add, “I meant what I said. You’ll complete your term of six months, and then we’re through.”
He doesn’t quite slam the door, but he definitely shuts it harder than necessary. Point taken. Guess I’m about to become a single mother.
“Mrs. Bellanti, are you okay?” one of the nurses asks as she rushes into the room, a male nurse right on her heels. “What happened?”
“Nothing,” I lie, tears rolling down my cheeks.
One of my monitors is beeping like crazy. I must have disconnected a wire. My heart rate is also through the roof, according to the numbers on the screen.
As the nurses fuss and coo over me, checking my vitals and getting the machines back in order, I settle back against the pillow and cry it out, my hands shaking as I clench the bedsheet in my fists. My chest aches and burns as my breaths hitch in my throat. This can’t be good for me. The doctor said it would take time for the tissues in my throat to recover. What about the baby? The thought instantly calms me down to sniffles.
“There you go, that’s better,” the female nurse soothes me, rubbing circles over my back as she helps me take small sips of water. “It’s okay. You’re okay.”
I nod. I am okay. Or at least, I will be. I know I will.
Because suddenly, there’s something inside me that feels stronger. Harder. More fierce.
How is it possible that I feel so different already? Different than I did even an hour ago? I never could have guessed there was life inside of me, that my screwed-up relationship with Armani had created something unexpected.
But now that I know about the baby…everything has changed.
The funny thing is, I never thought about being a mother. Not really. Sure, I had passing thoughts about having a family someday, but nothing concrete. Nothing so soon. And yet the second the doctor said I was pregnant, I knew I wanted this baby. More than anything.
“I’m going to disconnect your IV and then Ebba will help you get ready to go, okay? The doctor said you’re ready to be discharged,” the male nurse is saying.
I sit completely still as he stops the IV pump and removes the catheter from my hand. Then the female nurse shoos him away so I can get dressed in the clean underwear, sweatpants, and T-shirt that Donovan dropped off at the hospital earlier per Armani’s request.
“You weren’t expecting to be pregnant, I gather?” Her voice is soft and nonjudgmental as she sits facing the wall, allowing me some privacy. “You might be surprised how often that happens. You’re not alone.”
