Page 14

AURORA

I bolt out of bed, make a beeline for the toilet, and drop to my knees. My stomach turns and empties the small amount of food I managed to ingest in the past twenty-four hours.

Ethan left, and no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t sleep. I couldn’t eat. Emptiness and regret slammed into me once I was alone with my thoughts.

Unable to hold my head up, I lay my cheek on my forearm to avoid directly touching the toilet seat with my face.

Pregnancy: glamorous, it’s not.

Another round of nausea strikes, and I clutch the porcelain. The wave finally recedes, leaving me weak and trembling, and I collapse on the tile. I need a strong coffee and to crawl back under the covers.

Too bad I have to work.

I shut my eyes, thinking I’ll just lie here for a moment.

The door creaks open, and a shadow looms over me. A rough palm brushes my sweaty hair from my forehead.

“Damn,” Ricky curses. “You’re burning up…and pale.”

I emit a sound of agreement, and my teeth chatter.

“Okay, I’m taking you to bed.” He lifts me into his brawny arms with ease and carefully sets me on the mattress, pulling the blanket to my chin.

I snuggle into the sheets, the cool pillow a relief to my heated skin. “You smell like leather and winter,” I mumble, a bit delirious. “It’s nice.”

“Oh, yeah?” he chuckles. “That’s because I went for a walk to find you breakfast, and it’s nasty out.”

“Sorry.” I sigh remorsefully. “I’ll get up and eat in a minute.”

His knuckles press against my temple and cheek. “No, you won’t. I’ll bring it to you.”

“Your hands feel amazing. Keep doing that.” It comes out more provocative than intended, and I rush to clarify, “They’re icy.”

“Because you’re on fire,” he says in a low tone. “Let me get a cold compress.”

“It’s just morning sickness. It’ll pass soon. Plus, I’m due on set at nine.”

“You won’t make it,” he calls out over the running water. “It’s after eight-thirty, and traffic is a bitch in this weather.”

“Shit!” How long was I asleep on the floor? Adrenaline pumps through my veins, my eyelids pop open, and I toss the covers to the side. “I can’t be late! I have a photo shoot.”

My feet hit the hardwood, and I race into the bathroom, throwing on the shower. I remove my shorts, kicking them away, and yank my camisole over my head. A choking noise snags my attention, and wide blue eyes meet mine in the mirror.

I thrust my hand in a dismissive gesture. Too late now. “What? You have a boyfriend.” I break his stare and step into the glass shower.

“What if I’m bisexual?” he yells. “And I can still see you! Perfectly.”

“Then leave, weirdo.”

Bisexual or not, he was bound to catch me undressing at some point. Modeling isn’t for the modest, and he’s seen me practically nude plenty of times.

“Tell your boyfriend I said sorry.”

The adrenaline fades while I’m rinsing, and doubt creeps in. Forget the city traffic. My thick hair has to dry, and that takes at least an hour with a professional stylist.

I have to get dressed and in full makeup, without my talented assistant. I’ll never be ready. I’ll miss the photo shoot, and they’ll believe I’m incapable of meeting the requirements of my contract. I can’t fuck this up.

My chest tightens, and my stomach churns.

Not again.

With a hand clamped over to my mouth, I dash out of the shower, nearly slipping on my ass. Ricky awaits with an open towel, pursed lips, and an “I told you so” expression.

Wrapped tightly, I fall to my knees and repeat the same process as earlier, and even though I elbow him, my bodyguard insists on holding my wet hair back.

“Will you leave me alone? This is embarrassing enough.”

“Shut up. I’m a medic— was a medic,” he corrects. “I’ve witnessed much worse…like you naked. Disgusting.”

“I miss when you were quiet.”

It’s not true, and he knows it. Whether by forced proximity or divine intervention, we’ve become close, and I’d be lost without him.

When there’s nothing left in my system, my abdomen cramps, and anxiety turns to fear.

I place a hand on my belly. “The baby? Should I?—”

My phone rings in the bedroom, and, overwhelmed, I release a sob, tears burning my eyes.

I attempt to rise, but my head spins, and I wobble.

Once again, I’m in Ricky’s arms.

“I’m calling Ethan,” he says, his voice strained and clears his throat. “I know you’ll listen to him.”

Jackson

Before I leave Ethan’s office, his phone rings and his demeanor brightens. The sight of happiness on his typically serious mug is strange, taboo, as if we share a secret.

We share something more than a professional relationship.

A situationship—if I miraculously get Aurora back.

Even during moments of success on the ice, he wears a mask of irritation. I score a goal. He wants another. We win a game. He’s prepping for the next one. The only person who brings a huge smile to his face is Aurora, and my heart surges with hope.

Then, his gaze fixates on the caller ID, and the scowl returns, deepening the furrow between his brows. He signals for me to keep my mouth shut, sets the phone on his desk, and puts the call on speaker.

“Ricky,” he says, as curt as ever.

Now I understand Ethan’s abrupt mood shift and my need to stay quiet. Aurora’s bodyguard is one more person who hates me.

“You busy?”

Ricky’s urgent tone grabs my attention, and I lean closer.

“No.” Ethan adjusts the knot of his tie, loosening it from around his neck. “Everything okay?”

“She’s sick and in a panic about not being at work.”

Ethan’s sharp gaze meets mine. “Sick how?”

“Throwing up and running a fever. I found her passed out on the bathroom floor.”

My shoulders stiffen, and my heart thumps wildly. “I’ll go,” I insist on a whisper.

If she’s not well, one of us needs to be there. She loved me through my addiction, withdrawals, and countless hangovers. It’s time I step up and care for her.

“Make sure she stays in bed.” Ethan puts his finger to his lips to silence me. “Put her on the phone.”

Ragged breaths fill the line, and I rake my fingers through my hair, tugging on the strands. She’s having a panic attack.

“Baby, you need me to come get you?”

A shaky exhale, and, “No.”

My throat constricts. Fuck, I’d give anything to be there, to wrap her in my arms.

“What’s the matter, love?”

“A…bad day.”

Her voice cracks, and it takes everything in me not to grab the phone. Only the fear of her hanging up holds me back.

“Just breathe for me.” A few inhales and some sniffles. “Good girl. Tell me what’s going on.”

Her reply comes out in a burst of sobs. “I’m sick and missing a photo shoot. I can’t?—”

“Yes, you can,” he soothes in a low rumble. “And if you’re sick and not resting, I’m a five-hour flight from bringing you home.”

“My contract?—”

“Don’t care.” He shakes his head, although she can’t see him. “Nothing is more important than you and the baby.”

I nod in agreement. At least we’re on the same page there.

His voice softens. “How about I send you someone?”

There’s a long pause, and I suspect she knows he means me. “Who? Emily?” Bitterness and sarcasm lace her tone, but there’s also a tinge of interest.

Ethan must pick up on it too. “Will that help?”

“A lot more than who you’re thinking.”

Ouch.

The asshole finds her resentment toward me amusing and smirks. “Get Felicity to extend her an offer. It’s just business. She doesn’t have to live with you.”

“Good,” Aurora says with a yawn. “I don’t want her to.”

“Stay in bed. Do I need to find you a doctor?”

“No, I’m sure it’s morning sickness, but I’ll call mine.”

Ricky grumbles in the background. Wherever she is, he is, and dark jealousy curls in my stomach. I tell myself it’s his responsibility, what he was hired for, but I hate it. It should be me.

It will be me.

Ethan and Aurora say their goodbyes, our girl promising to rest and keep him updated, and I leave to track down a certain blonde who’ll do anything for money.