Page 114 of Possessive Ink

When he holds his hand out to me, I reach out and take it, and he shakes firmly. “Thank you. You’ve given me a piece of her back that I’ll carry with me forever,” he says, his voice shaky.

Nodding in silent understanding, I wrap his arm up, then send him over to Leo, who checks him out.

“Jesus, Atticus, your client just left you a thousand-dollar tip.” Leo whistles after the guy has left and the door has closed behind him.

I nod, but honestly, right now I don’t really care. “I have to go,” I say, packing up my stuff and shoving it into my bag before I make a beeline for the door.

“Wait, don’t you have another client?” she calls after me.

“Yes, in an hour. If I’m not going to be back, I’ll call them and rearrange,” I tell her absently as I rush out of the door and toward my car.

It only takes a few minutes to drive home, and I wait impatiently for the gate to slide open before I accelerate into the courtyard, abandoning my car in my haste to find Lemon.

Ignoring my brother and the weird deep house music he’s listening to, I dart up the stairs and push into the loft, already shouting her name the moment I step inside. “Lemon! Lemon, are you here?”

The living room and kitchen are empty, so I head for our bedroom, but it’s empty too. “Lemon,” I call, but there’s no reply. Our closet is empty, so I step into the bathroom, already convinced she’s not here. But when I look around the doorframe, I find her sitting on the floor, her back against the wall, her knees pulled to her chest, her gaze vacant and fixed ahead.

Panic punches me in the chest. “Lemon, fuck. Are you hurt? Are you in pain? Lemon?” Dropping to my knees next to her, I palm her face in my hands. “Lemon, Lemon.”

After a long, silent pause, her gaze slides to me, but the moment she sees me, huge tears fill her eyes, slowly falling in rivulets down her cheeks.

“Princess, what’s happening? Tell me what’s wrong,” I beg.

More tears fall, fat tears that make my heart break and pain fill my chest. “I’m so sorry,” she whispers.

“What? Why are you sorry? What’s happening? What hurts?” I ask, desperate to know what’s going on.

“I’m so sorry,” she says again.

“Why are you sorry?” More tears fall, and I snap. “Lemon, are you hurt?” My voice is sterner than it should be, but I need answers.

“No,” she rasps.

“Are you in pain?”

“No.”

“Are you ill?” I ask, tensing as I wait for her answer.

“No,” she says again.

“Then what the fuck is going on?” I demand.

Her gaze darts to the counter, and as I follow it, I see something sitting on the top. Rising to my feet, I step closer and see a white foil packet with a thin strip sitting on top of it. Carefully lifting it, I examine it. It’s clearly some kind of test, but there’s nothing printed on it to say what it’s testing for. Then I spot the box. It’s small, pink, and face down on the counter.

Lemon makes a pained noise when I pick it up and turn it over. “Pregnancy test,” I read aloud. Looking at the test, all I see are two lines. What does that mean? Is she pregnant? Isn’t she pregnant?

“Lemon,” I call, but she’s already looking at me, fresh tears rolling down her face. “You took a pregnancy test?” I question.

She nods.

“Are you pregnant?”

A muffled sob falls from her lips as she nods again.

“You’re pregnant?” I question again. “Are you sure? There are two lines. Shouldn’t there be a cross or something?”

Blinking, her expression turns pensive. “I thought…I…”