Page 19

Chapter Eighteen

Lux

“Noooo,” I groan, shooting out of bed and flying to the bathroom. I narrowly miss the toilet and throw up in the sink instead, slumping against the marble counter to catch my breath.

My insides twist and turn, threatening to repeat the offensive action.

I slide down, stretching out on the cool floor, my battered cheek pressed to the tiles. Taking steady breaths, I command my insides to calm down. Eventually, my body grows cold, and I force myself up.

I splash cold water on my face, brush my teeth, and pull on a fluffy white robe.

The bed was empty when I sprang out of it so I wander into the kitchen to search for Dominic. The shades are open and soft sunlight streams in through the floor-to-ceiling windows. I press myself against the glass, admiring the skyline.

At this early hour, the city seems calm, blanketed in delicate hues of pink and orange as the sun rises. Dominic lives right on the edge of City Park, a green oasis in a sea of glass and metal.

I watch the flurry of activity as morning runners circle its winding paths and sleepy pet owners take their dogs for walks. I turn back, heading to the fridge for some ice-cold water to help settle my stomach.

What the heck is up with my insides lately? Must be all the stress.

I pour myself a tall glass of water and lean on the counter. A white sheet of paper catches my eye and I slide it closer, flipping it open.

Luxy,

I’ve got a busy day today. I’ll be home around dinner. Enjoy your free time!

Love,

Dominic

A smile slips onto my face, making my cheek hurt. I stuff the note into my pocket and head back to the bathroom to get a better look at myself. A terrifying image awaits me in the mirror.

I study the deep circles around my eyes, the bruise that now takes up the entire left side of my face, and my dry cracked lips. I shudder, wondering how to even go about fixing my nightmare of a face.

Suddenly, the glass of water I drank violently exits my body and I wretch over the sink, letting it out.

Dizziness makes me slide to the floor and I shut my eyes, trying to steady my breath. My chest burns like I’m having a heart attack and a nasty burp escapes my throat.

Vomiting, acid reflux, dizziness—am I getting sick?

A sinking feeling suddenly hits me, and my eyes fly open. No, there’s no way.

I rack my brain, trying to remember my last period. Surely it was a few weeks ago? My mind goes blank and I struggle to recall the last time I bought tampons. But I have an IUD, I remind myself, relaxing a little bit.

Although, when was I supposed to get it replaced?

With all the craziness of the last few weeks, plus the exhaustion of holding down three jobs, I kind of lost track of time. A hazy memory of missing my last gynecologist appointment bounces around my brain.

That was the day my Toyota broke down on the freeway and I had to spend my last fifty bucks on a tow truck. I think about my little red clunker for a second, wondering if the police ever found it.

Forcefully, I push myself away from the counter and stumble into the bedroom.

I throw on a pair of sweats and a sweatshirt, piling my messy hair into a bun. Sprinting to the entryway, I search the drawers of Dominic’s coat closet for a pair of sunglasses. I plop them on and glance in the mirror.

It’s not much, but it covers some of the bruising—and my bloodshot eyes.

I pull on my shoes and trip into the elevator, tapping my feet in an anxious rhythm. When I burst out into the street, sunlight blinds me and I pull the sunglasses tighter against my face.

My phone tells me there’s a pharmacy five minutes away, so I hustle up the sidewalk.

The quiet serenity of the park on the other side of the street beckons me, begging me to forget my mission. I almost choose to remain in denial. I could just spend the morning enjoying an iced coffee on the grassy knoll.

No, Lux, I scold myself. Pharmacy, pregnancy test, just do it.

I slink to the back of the pharmacy, clutching the counter. The woman notices me and walks over, smiling.

“Hello,” she says brightly. “How can I help you today?”

“Hi,” I blurt out. “Is it possible to get pregnant with an IUD?”

Her forehead creases as she looks me up and down. Slowly, she nods. “If it’s expired, the chances increase, of course. How long have you had yours?”

I lower the sunglasses, meeting her gaze with shame. “A few years I think…”

“You’re not sure?” her eyebrows fly up in surprise.

“It’s been a crazy few years,” I volunteer, shrugging helplessly. She nods and disappears behind the shelves of medicine and supplies. A few moments later, she emerges with a little pink and white box.

“Take it, just in case,” she says, sliding it across the counter. “If it’s positive, you need to see your doctor immediately.”

I nod in horror. It’s not impossible. She didn’t say it was impossible.

“Can I have a second one, too?” I choke out. I vaguely remember a friend telling me you have to take at least two to be sure.

The woman retrieves another test, stacking it on top of the first tidy little box on the counter.

“That’ll be sixteen dollars, please.”

I slide my emergency credit card into her hand, praying it doesn’t get declined. The sale goes through and I stuff the box into my pocket, thanking her. I race back to Dominic’s penthouse, averting my gaze when I pass the park.

Instead of runners and dog walkers, all I see are mothers and fathers with strollers. The thought makes me sick to my stomach, and I don’t want to be the girl that pukes in front of Dominic’s snooty doorman.

I make it inside without any issues and sprint to the bathroom.

I study the instructions while I wait for the results, my phone set to ring in exactly five minutes. After the longest five minutes of my life, I slowly flip the stick over, holding my breath.

Two lines. Two very clear lines. Shit.

I pull out the second test and repeat the process, hoping for a different result. Positive—again.

I’m pregnant. I’m unemployed, homeless, and pregnant with Dominic’s baby.

After I make an appointment with Planned Parenthood to get this old, useless IUD out, I spend the rest afternoon mulling the news over.

Obviously, the wisest thing to do is tell him immediately so we can make a decision together. I throw myself into cooking a romantic dinner for him, intent on discussing the news like adults.

I’ve wanted to be a mother someday, but not under these circumstances. The dream has always been a husband, a little house, a dog in the yard, and a baby. Instead, I got a flooded apartment, an empty bank account, and a man I just met.

Despite it all, a little ball of happiness blooms defiantly in my chest. I’m going to have a baby, I marvel.

By the time I hear Dominic calling my name from the entryway, I’ve showered, put on a sundress, and set the table up for dinner. He walks into the kitchen, and I throw my arms around him, kissing his neck. He glances around, surprised.

“What’s all this?” he asks, pulling off his jacket and tie.

“Dinner,” I answer simply, dragging him to the table. The desire to tell him the news is itching at my skin and crawling up my throat. I need to do this, and I need to do it now.

A smile flits across his lips, but it’s quickly replaced by something darker. I meet his eyes, seeing a deep sadness, a longing I can’t quite describe. Fear coils low in my belly, and my hand automatically covers it, protecting my secret.

This foreboding feeling again.

“Luxy, come here,” he says softly, pulling me close. His arms wrap around my waist, his chin on my head. “I can’t do this.”

It’s barely a whisper, but it stabs me in the gut and slices me into a million pieces. I play stupid, trying to save my wretched heart. “You have a meeting or something? We can do dinner later if you want.”

“No, darling, this,” he says, louder this time, opening his arms and looking down at me. The warmth of his embrace quickly fades, replaced by a chill, even though it’s a warm summer evening.

“Dominic, what are you saying?”

“I’m sorry, I can’t let myself get involved in anything serious right now,” he says, choosing his words carefully. “I have too much going on, and being in a relationship is not something I can handle.”

“Are you serious?” I whisper, forcing my tears back. I will not cry. I will not cry.

He looks down at me, pity painted across his face. “Yes. I know, I fucked up. I started this whole thing, but I didn’t think we would get this far.”

I stare at the floor, my bare feet turning to ice. He gently tips my chin up to meet his gaze. “I talked to your landlord; there’s still a few weeks before you can move back in so…I have another property on the other side of town. You should stay there.”

“No.”

“No?” he echoes, surprised. “Where are you going to go?”

“I don’t know,” I snap, my hurt shifting into anger to protect my fragile ego. “I’ll figure it out on my own.”

I stomp away into the bedroom and start throwing my stuff back in the duffle bag. He calls after me, following me to his room.

“I’m so sorry, Luxy,” he pleads, his eyes soft and hurt. “Just let me take care of you until you’re back on your feet.”

I sling my duffle over my shoulder and march up to him, stabbing my finger into his chest. “I survived before you came into my life, Dominic Wolf, and I’ll survive long after you’re gone.”

He stands, staring at my retreating form as I stumble down the hallway. Without a second glance, I shove my feet into my boots and get into the elevator. The doors shut as he opens his mouth, but it’s too late.

I break down, sinking to the floor, tears streaming down my face.

By the time the doors open on the ground floor, I’ve composed myself. I slip on the same pair of sunglasses I borrowed this morning and walk out into the sunshine, heading directly for the park. I find myself an empty bench and sit down to formulate a plan.

I will not think about him. I will not think about him. I will not think about him.

I scroll through my phone instead, gauging how likely everyone in my contacts list is to let me crash with them for a bit.

Lisa .

We’ve always had an easy friendship—not that we ever hung out outside of work. Hell, I don’t even know her last name, but she’d probably let me sleep on her couch tonight at least. I tap her name and type out a message.

Having a quarter-life crisis. Can I crash at your place tonight?