Page 51 of Her Wicked Husband (The Huxleys #2)

Fiona

The second I walk out of the office and pass Amélie, my smile slips.

We’ll be fine as long as she doesn’t get pregnant.

I initially bought four cupcakes to share with Bryce, but after I overheard that, I knew I wouldn’t be able to fake being serene. Don’t overthink it. And for God’s sake, don’t give it the worst possible interpretation .

He was probably just thinking about our agreement. A baby would be inconvenient. I’m not sure if I want to start a family right now, and Bryce probably wants a baby even less because his mom is so psychotic about it.

I reach the elevator bank and hit the button.

It climbs slowly from the lobby. At least I didn’t lie about being tired.

For some reason, I’m really sleepy even though I had the largest cold brew on the menu.

The cold brew supposedly has more caffeine than regular coffee, so I don’t know why I’m still so drowsy.

If I didn’t know better, I’d suspect that Lareina slipped me some sleeping meds, but she couldn’t even drink her own coffee without my sipping it first to make sure it was okay.

That poor woman. She told me that she basically starved until she met Ares.

“There you are.”

I turn around and face Josh. His voice is as smooth and hard as glass. “Yes? What is it? ”

“Games aren’t my thing, so I’ll be blunt. Don’t ever betray or hurt Bryce again.”

My spine straightens. Although his criticism is justified, I don’t have to like it.

“I hate it that you make him happy, because you’re too poisonous. He looks tough outside, but inside he’s a big teddy bear. He shouldn’t have to suffer for your amusement.”

My jaw tightens at the unfairness of his doubts, but I soon realize I haven’t given him any reason to know I’m not going to act the way I did back in college. Does Bryce torment himself, wondering about my behavior and motives? Does he believe I might turn my back on him?

I didn’t sense anything like it, but Bryce and Josh have always been inseparable. Besides, aren’t identical twins supposed to be in tune with each other? What if I missed something?

This reaction from Josh, more than anything else, reaffirms my decision to fess up everything to Bryce tonight.

I wouldn’t want him to suffer because of my doubts and insecurities.

The need to be perfect in order to be worthy of affection has been hammered into me since I was seven.

It led me down an exhausting, painful path, and I want to deviate from it, no matter how my belly roils with fear.

I look up at the face so identical to Bryce’s, but at the same time so different. “I’m not playing a game. This is my life.”

“Your life? Wasn’t it your life ten years ago?” Josh scoffs.

“It’s different now.” My voice is surprisingly firm.

“We’ll see about that.” He points two fingers at his eyes, then turns them toward me. “I’ll be watching, Fiona.”

“Watch all you want. I won’t ever hurt Bryce again.”

The elevator doors open and a woman rushes out of the car, almost bumping into me. “Sorry!” she shouts without turning back and runs off, a plastic bag looped around her wrist.

I frown at her rudeness, then notice a box of tampons in the bag. Oh… Nothing like being caught unaware and the bathroom’s out of supplies for Aunt Flo.

I turn back. Josh is holding the elevator for me. I shoot him a sidelong glance, unsure why he’s suddenly being polite now. “Thank you,” I murmur, then step inside the car .

As it descends, I realize I haven’t bought any tampons in a while—

No. I haven’t had a period since Bryce crashed my wedding…

My blood cools, the coffee and cupcake congealing into a nauseating lump in my gut. But there’s no way I can be pregnant. Bryce and I were careful. He always used protection. And I’m pretty sure he would have said something if a rubber had ripped or anything…

Stress. It must be the stress . I’ve skipped periods before when I was in the middle of high-stakes marketing campaigns at work. And my life has been anything but smooth sailing with Zoe and all her insanity.

But things have been calmer since I kissed Bryce three weeks ago. Still, that doesn’t mean the effect of the stress disappeared completely, right?

I stop by a pharmacy on the way and pick up a pregnancy test kit and a box of tampons. The former just for reassurance, and the latter for when Aunt Flo decides to visit again.

Back at home, I stash the tampons in the bathroom cabinet under the sink, then tap my palm with the test. I should pee, but can’t seem to squeeze out any fluid. I gulp down two glasses of water and start pacing.

We’ll be fine as long as she doesn’t get pregnant.

The words ring in my head. My feet move faster, but I can’t shake off the chilly film of anxiety. Come on, Fiona . I’m nervous for nothing. Why would my body produce a baby at the worst possible time?

Because your life is full of absolutely shitty timing? This is the other shoe dropping.

I cover my ears. No, I’m not listening to negativity. Positivity only, please.

Finally, I sit down on the toilet and perform the test. The seconds tick by so slowly that I can’t help but start pacing again. Finally, I look down at the results box. Two lines. What does that mean? I flip the test, but the back doesn’t say.

I grab the instruction sheet for an explanation. Two lines means pregnant.

I press my knuckles against my mouth, the sharp edges of my teeth digging into my skin. No way am I with child. This has to be a joke. I look at the sheet again. If there are two lines, it indicates pregnancy .

Just how reliable is this test? I skim the rest of the paper. It proudly claims the test is ninety-nine percent accurate.

Bullshit. What about the one percent, huh? I could be that. Or this particular test is defective. Could happen. Wait a few weeks and the company will do a huge recall. Bet it was made in some super-sketchy place with no manufacturing standards to speak of.

I drop the test next to the sink. This is a damn lie. I’m going to prove it.

Grabbing my purse, I run out to the Maybach and get in. I’ll buy another test, and this time I’m going to hit a different pharmacy, just to be sure. And grab a test produced by a different company. Ideally one in the U.S.A. If not, Germany or Japan will do as well.

My teeth cut into my knuckles as I press my hand over my mouth to contain a scream.

We’ll be fine as long as she doesn’t get pregnant.

But what happens if I am pregnant? Are Bryce and I not going to be fine? Will we fight? Argue? Never speak to each other again?

I want to tell Bryce the whole truth about what happened with Jude today, and now this …

I rub my forehead. But if I’m really pregnant, it isn’t something I can hide. My palms slicken with clammy sweat. What am I going to do?

What’s going to happen to my baby?

Bryce doesn’t want it. So obviously he won’t recognize it as his. Will he bother giving a Huxley family cane to the baby, to let it know it’ll be under the family’s protection? Or will he turn his back on it?

What about me? I don’t want to throw it away the way my birth mother did, even if everyone around me disagrees.

My child deserves better. At the same time, I don’t know how I’ll deal with raising a baby on my own.

Zoe’s zeal for a grandbaby flashes through my mind, followed by Bryce’s story about her kidnapping Ares and leaving him to die in a fire.

What if she tries to hurt my baby? Can I protect it?

Can I even be a good mom? I don’t know anything about creating a good family environment. The two families that adopted me weren’t exactly wholesome and loving examples.

Should I give the baby up for adoption? But what if it meets a family like the Obermans, who provide material benefits but no warmth or love?

I didn’t realize how much I wanted the latter until I spent time with Akiko.

Do I want my child to experience the same kind of lack and pain I’ve gone through?

I park my car in the corner of a huge lot at a massive strip mall.

It has a supermarket, a pharmacy and a few other stores, including a McDonald’s.

I flex my hands around the steering wheel and drop my forehead on the car horn, lightly enough that the Maybach stays silent.

So many questions swirl, all of them unanswerable.

But the first step is definitely seeing if I’m really pregnant or if there was a mistake with the previous test. It’s possible it isn’t even the fault of the manufacturer, but me.

I might’ve peed wrong—I did it without reading the entire instruction sheet first. There might’ve been a warning that says if you pee for more than two seconds, the test gives a false positive.

I climb out of the car and start toward the pharmacy.

“Finn.”

Aaron . I turn and blink at my adoptive brother.

Gone is the flamboyant, confident heir. He looks even worse than he did at the hotel.

He’s unshaven, his eyes bloodshot and cheeks sunken.

His skin is dull, his hair messy like it broke up with a comb a while ago.

He’s in a button-down shirt that’s at least a size too big, slacks cinched at the waist with a worn belt.

At least he doesn’t smell, but he looks like he could use a shower.

“Finally.” He smiles. The expression doesn’t hold the cockiness it used to. An unholy anticipation glows in his eyes. Did Zoe abuse him more than I realized? Does he blame me for what happened?

“Aaron,” I whisper. My throat is too tight to speak louder.

“I’m so glad I ran into you. Aren’t you?”

“Were you following me?”

“What if I was? You don’t keep regular schedules, and you’re around too many people.” He sounds baleful.

I shake my head, snapping myself out of the shocked daze. “I don’t have time for this.”

His hand snakes out, gripping my wrist. “You’ll make time,” he spits out between clenched teeth. “You owe me. ”

“No. I already took care of your ridiculous debt.” I look around, but there isn’t anybody in the lot. “Let me go—”

His face contorts with rage. “Shut up, you stupid bitch. It’s all your fault. You deserve this.”

“No—” My vision goes black.