“That’s not something to be proud of.”
“Maybe it is.” He smirks.
“Can’t you see what it’ll do to us? It can destroy everything.”
“Well, here’s the thing, Butterfly.” He leans over and brushes his lips against my nose. “I don’t mind self-destructing if it’s with you.”
As soon as we land, Cole tells the driver to take us to an address he gives him.
It’s an OB-GYN he looked up on the internet when we were flying.
I begged him not to take me to the doctor, because the driver will tell Lucien who could tell Mum, but all my protests fall on deaf ears.
Cole speaks in French to the receptionist. I speak it, too, but his accent is the best with foreign languages. It’s barely there. I sound like an English snob when I speak French.
The doctor, Dr Qasim Laurent, is an older man with olive skin and light green eyes. After he does the test and asks me a few questions, he says we should wait.
Cole tells him we want to make sure the baby is fine. After the doctor leaves us alone, me on the table and Cole standing beside me, I swallow. “Why do you want to know if the baby is fine? Are you…thinking about keeping it?”
“Are you?”
“I asked first, Cole.”
“You never come first, Miss Number Two.”
“Dick,” I mutter.
“What was that, Butterfly?”
“Come on, answer me.”
“You had better chances of getting an answer before reducing me to my dick. I know you love it, but, well, it doesn’t work in such situations,” he teases.
“Cole!”
His expression returns to the serene blankness. “I do want to keep it.”
If my heart could burst into pieces, it would’ve been all over the white room by now. “Really?”
He nods.
“But we’re…you know…I’m your sister in front of everyone.”
He gives me a dirty look. “You’re not my fucking sister. I hate that word.”
I hate it too.
I thread my fingers into his. If he and I want to keep it, then we can figure something out, right?
He watches me peculiarly for a second, his intense gaze sliding from my face to my abdomen and then back again. His eyes aren’t only seeing me, but they’re tearing through my flesh and peering into my soul.
“What?” I whisper.
“Did you… I mean, were you pregnant when Elsa beat you that time?”
The memory of that fear of being alone and not being able to protect my baby assaults me. I nod.
“I’m so sorry, Silver. I wouldn’t have stood still if I knew. I would’ve protected you.” He lifts our interlaced fingers and brushes his lips on the back of my hand, eliciting sharp tingles.