Page 79 of Royal Deception

He pauses. “You sure? It’s a good one.”

“Yeah,” I say, a little too quickly. “I’m just not in the mood.”

Rory studies me for a moment, his brows slightly furrowed. He doesn’t say anything right away, but I can feel his mind working, turning something over. He sets the bottle down, leans back on one hand, and gives me a slow once-over.

“You feeling okay?” he asks, tone casual but gaze sharp.

“Yeah, of course,” I reply, trying not to sound defensive. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

His head tilts slightly, his expression unreadable. “You just seem… different.”

I force a light laugh, reaching for some grapes. “Well, I haven’t seen you in a while. Maybe you just forgot what I’m like.”

It’s a weak deflection, and I know it the second his eyes narrow slightly, like puzzle pieces are starting to snap into place in his mind.

Shit.

I need to change the subject. Quickly. “So, what made you pick this place? I never would’ve guessed you were the horseback riding type?—”

“Clary,” Rory interrupts, his voice low and steady.

I freeze.

His gaze is locked onto mine, intense in a way that makes my pulse pound. “Are you pregnant?”

My stomach drops.

I open my mouth, but no sound comes out.

Because this is it. The moment I’ve been dreading.

And Rory doesn’t look like he’s going to let it go.

33

RORY

I’m staring at her, waiting for an answer, my mind reeling. All those little things I’d brushed off—her weird “flu” a few months back that dragged on forever, the subtle weight gain, especially in her breasts and stomach, the odd sensitivity she’d been showing lately… they all make sense now.

I lean forward, barely holding myself together, trying to make sense of this moment.

“Are you pregnant?” I ask again, my voice hoarse. I can feel the words leave my mouth, but they don't feel real.

Clary doesn’t say anything at first, but she nods quietly, her hand drifting to her stomach, the curve of her belly suddenly visible beneath her sweater.

Everything shifts in my mind. The pieces fall into place, and it all clicks. Her odd behavior, the way she’s been acting distant, avoiding me—it’s all because of this.

I swallow hard, trying to keep the rage in check. But I can’t hold it back.

“When the fuck were you going to tell me?” I demand, my voice tight with anger. “How could you keep something like that from me?”

The question burns, making my blood run hot.

Then, like a punch to the gut, a thought occurs to me.

“Am I the father?” The words leave my mouth before I can stop them, and my chest tightens with the fear that I might not be.

Clary’s eyes shift away from mine, and for a second, I’m sure she’s not going to say anything at all. But then, she blurts it out in a rush, her words tumbling over each other like she’s trying to get it all out at once.