Page 37 of Modern Romance July 2025 #4-8

CHAPTER SIX

R EBECCA WOKE UP DISORIENTED , except for the nausea. She was very used to that by now. Her doctor had assured her it was normal and would lessen as time went on. She’d taken him at his word.

He had been wrong . Hunger and the need to vomit were a constant war all morning long, then just like a switch, afternoon would be fine. Mostly. She got the occasional evening attack if she didn’t eat.

Eat. Though her stomach rejected the idea, she realized she had not eaten since…the plane.

The plane. Greece. Theo. She closed her eyes again, just for a minute. Just to give herself the chance for regret.

If her mother hadn’t harped on her doing the right thing , she’d still be home in Ireland.

And maybe mucking the stalls had been an exercise in torture with the morning sickness, the exhaustion, but she hadn’t been willing to admit that to her father or the Desmonds.

Maybe growing a child in her childhood bedroom wasn’t exactly a satisfying adult endeavor or left her much room to feel like a mother , but…

It was what it was, like so many other things in her life.

Except now she was here, dealing with the father of her baby, in this pretty if bland room, on an amazingly soft bed, and though nausea rattled at her, she’d definitely slept hard and maybe long. Plus, there weren’t any unpleasant smells to make that worse, except…

She pushed into a sitting position. Then gave a little sniff. It smelled a bit like…food. She looked around. There on the pretty little desk—no doubt some extravagant antique—was a giant silver tray full to the brim of food.

Pastries, fruits, cereals. A pitcher of water that had the last vestiges of some ice floating at the top as though it had been sitting there for a while.

A far cry from the oatmeal and herbal tea her mother liked to shove at her in the mornings. Neither of which Rebecca had been able to stomach.

Rebecca didn’t know how to conceptualize this whole strange twist on her life, so she had to focus on facts. That was clearly a breakfast tray that had been there for a while. So what time was it?

She couldn’t remember where she’d put any of her things, but rolling over a little told her that her phone was in her pocket. She pulled it out, but the screen was blank.

Dead. She would need to charge it, which meant finding a charger. She would need to find out what time it was, and let her parents know that she…

She would stay in Greece for a few days.

With some sleep under her belt, she didn’t really see any way around that.

Maybe talking this out with Theo sounded a bit like torture—especially if she kept having annoying and unrelenting physical reactions to him—but it was the reasonable, responsible, adult thing to do. For the baby .

Besides, the bed was nice. The food might be nice. And she had come all this way. Ireland and home could wait for some answers, some decisions.

Carefully so as not to upset her stomach any further, she pushed out of the bed and moved over to the tray.

She made herself a plate of a few of the blander items, poured herself a glass of water.

No doubt it wouldn’t stay down, but that didn’t seem to matter.

Most mornings were the same. Eat breakfast. Toss breakfast right back up, and then settle.

But not eating meant feeling worse all day.

Then, because she was alone, and because she was pregnant and deserved a little pampering, she crawled back into the bed and settled in to eat. She was halfway through some sort of flaky pastry filled with a delicious cream when the door creaked open.

It was Theo’s head that popped in. He regarded her, then pushed the door the rest of the way open and strode in. Without any sort of invitation offered.

She had a feeling he was not a man who often waited for an invitation . Particularly in his own home.

“You are awake,” he said by way of greeting.

Since it was a rather silly greeting, she raised an eyebrow at him. “Yes.”

“And eating.”

She waved the pastry. “It appears so.”

His expression was unreadable, but she thought she saw a flicker of annoyance. She couldn’t tell if it was at her existence, or at his own self. “Eating is good. How are you feeling?”

She wasn’t sure what to do with the question. It seemed genuine enough, so she answered without being too graphic. “A bit off this morning, but some food should help it.”

“Morning sickness, then?”

The fact he knew the term for it was interesting. “You’re well-versed in pregnancy symptoms?”

He stood there, tall and broad, and not stiff exactly, but unmoving, his hands clasped behind his back. And yet she had the impression of strength , that in the blink of an eye he could move and handle whatever he wanted to handle.

“I did some research,” he said, then moved over to the tray, surveyed what was left.

“All challenges must be met with knowledge. The best way to educate myself was to read, and since you’ve done nothing but sleep, I had plenty of time to do such.

” He studied her for a moment, then turned back to the tray. “The sleep was good for you.”

She didn’t know why those simple words settled over her like a compliment.

She knew what she’d looked like when she’d arrived.

Tired. Haggard, probably. Though sleep might have done her some good, she couldn’t imagine she looked good right now.

She brought a hand up to her hair. It was half in and out of the band. She no doubt looked a fright.

But he’d said the sleep was good for her, not anything about her actually looking good.

She didn’t need him to. Obviously. But the idea of him sitting around last night reading about pregnancy was hard to reckon with.

This impressive, austere man. She had not really seen him interact with anyone but her, though.

Maybe there was a warmth somewhere he was hiding. Maybe he would be…a good father.

She knew it would be wrong to take that opportunity away from him, and that was why she was here . Still… It was a lot to reconcile when he was a stranger she had a ridiculous physical reaction to.

“You may take the morning to acclimate yourself, but this afternoon we will take a drive and sit down with my lawyers and decide how to move forward.”

Rebecca set the half-eaten pastry aside, took a sip of the water. The idea of a drive roiled around in her stomach just as moving forward with lawyers did. “I will not sit in a room with your lawyers, while I have none of my own.”

“You may call one.”

She snorted. “Don’t be ridiculous, Theo. I realize you have money and that makes things complicated, or whatever you privileged lot convince yourselves of. That’s fine. But first, we must make decisions as people . No lawyers.”

She realized with some trepidation how out of her depths she now was. Maybe she understood the rich having worked for the Desmonds, and had a relationship with Patrick, but she did not have access to things like lawyers .

How would her family absorb such a cost? No, she had to try to appeal to Theo’s humanity and focus on this between the two of them.

She looked at him standing there, his expression hard and determined, like he’d already written out the entirety of the rest of their lives. Like he’d somehow make certain she never left Greece, never had her own life again.

And that should terrify her, but it sounded kind of nice—someone else taking care of everything for a bit. Which was the problem. Maybe she wouldn’t mind a little swooping in now , but she wouldn’t want it always.

She certainly wouldn’t want lawyers swooping in, no doubt to make sure Theo got all he wanted and she got nothing. But first, everyone had to decide what they wanted.

Her thoughts took a quick, drastic turn to the state of her stomach. She pushed out of the bed. Barely got the words “excuse me” out of her mouth before she walked into the bathroom, carefully closed the door, then indeed threw up the entire contents of her breakfast.

Theo stood in the guest bedroom with the completely foreign feeling of not knowing what to do.

She was…retching. He’d read this was fairly common, though usually not a symptom that stuck around into the nineteenth week—if the doctor’s measurements had been correct. Should he be concerned?

He did not for the life of him know how to react to this. When Theo had been a boy, he had sometimes nursed his father after a dastardly hangover, but usually there was a woman around to do that kind of thing, and Theo had long since grown past the age and urge to do so.

These days, Theo was used to taking care of problems and things , not…people.

He could not think of the last time he’d had an upset stomach, but he tried to cast back to childhood. There’d been a few bouts of the stomach flu over the years. What had his nanny done? Soup? Some lemon mint water? A cool washcloth to put over his head?

He sent a text off to the head of his kitchens to bring an assortment of remedies down to Rebecca’s room.

She emerged seconds later. She looked…shaky. Not at all like the vibrant woman at the wedding, or even the one who’d walked into his office looking tired but determined.

A foreign sensation spun in his chest. A need to act, in ways he didn’t fully understand. But action was good. Better than feeling. He strode into the bathroom, grabbed one of the folded washcloths in the vanity, ran some cool water over it.

She had crawled back into bed when he returned, and he walked over and handed her the cloth. When she frowned at it, as if she did not know what it was for, he scowled and moved forward to place it across her forehead.

She blinked once, then looked over at him. There was something in her blue eyes. A kind of wondering, but then something he did not care for at all.

A little indulgent smile. “I do not have a fever,” she said gently.

“Nevertheless,” he said, hating that she’d made him feel foolish.

She reached up, moved the cloth from her forehead to around her neck. Then she sighed, closing her eyes. “Thank you.”

That odd spooling in his chest warmed, settled. The problem was solved, but what had caused it? He looked at the tray of food. “Is the food not to your liking?”

“The food is fine. I just can’t keep anything down in the mornings. But if I don’t put something in my stomach first thing, I’m a wreck for the whole day. So it’s just a whole vicious cycle.”

He had read about morning sickness, but this seemed…ridiculous. “Surely there is something to be done.”

“My doctor back home said if I do not gain more weight by my next appointment, the next step will be an anti-nausea medication.”

“Your new doctor will get you some immediately.”

She shook her head. “No. No, I don’t want to take anything.”

“That is foolishness.”

Her eyes snapped open. Frustration clear in them, but that did nothing to lessen their impact. Her impact. Nothing did.

“It is my choice.”

He did not know how to argue with that, though he wanted to. So he changed tactics. “You will need to have your medical records sent to your doctor here.”

Her expression stayed sharp and frustrated. His blood swam in response.

“It is not my doctor. I am not staying forever, Theo.”

He wanted to immediately argue, but he was not the head of his father’s company because he did not know how to maneuver people. “Perhaps not, but you are here now. Wherever you are, the doctor should have the necessary information.”

He could tell that she had a harder time finding an argument against that. “I suppose I could call their offices and see what needs to be done. But not right now.” She closed her eyes, made a face that indicated pain.

“What is it?”

She shook her head. “I’m just so sick of throwing up. So sick of feeling…not myself. Run-down. And so on.”

“You are growing an entire human being.”

Her hand rested against her stomach, and she sighed. “I know.” Her mouth curved ever so slightly, eyes still closed. “Isn’t that the strangest thing? People have been doing it since the dawn of time, and yet, it feels like this impossible, improbable undertaking.”

Those words made everything different somehow. He had been conceptualizing the child as…a child . An entity. And what that entity meant to his life, his future, his choices, but he had not thought of it in terms of…an actual infant. Growing inside her. Being born from her.

He had read about these symptoms, about complications, but he had not…allowed them to penetrate. She was talking about needing medication, to gain weight. She was retching in his bathroom.

Everything suddenly felt so…precarious.

They could not stay here, amid the bustle and demands of Athens. No, she needed rest and privacy and the best he had to offer. She was right, no lawyers. He didn’t need logistics, yet.

He needed to win her over, and to do so, they would need to be alone. Truly alone. Away from all the reaches of the outside world, except the team of doctors he would employ.

“Rest. This afternoon, I will take you somewhere private—no lawyers, just us—to discuss how we will handle this. Together.”

She let out a long sigh, relief softening her features. She yawned. “I need to contact my parents. My phone is dead and I…”

“You rest, omorfiá mou . I will handle everything.”

And he would.