I smile, but the wrinkle lines don’t reach my cheeks. “You and he are very close.”
“Very,” Saint whispers. “He’s my brother, and although I haven’t known him for very long, I already know him—if you know what I mean.”
I nod, sadness sweeping through me and taking root in my stomach. “I do, unfortunately. Brothers are special.” I pause, running straight past the memories of Daemon as the limo pulls up to the lobby of the hotel.
We both climb out, and I gesture to the front doors. “The doctor and his assistant are already upstairs. They’ve kind of turned my hotel room into a small hospital.”
Saint follows me through the front reception area, looking down at my belly every few seconds. “They’re his, you know.”
I pause, pressing on my private room number once we’re in the elevator. The doors close and I turn to face her. “What?”
Her pale cheeks flush with the softest tint of pink. “Sorry, it doesn’t matter.”
The doors open into my room and I lead the way through to the kitchen, pointing out where everything is before showing Saint her bedroom.
“How soon can you have the results back to me?” I ask the doctor once Saint has unloaded her bags in the bedroom, chewing on my lip nervously. My heart isn’t here anymore. It’s just not. I want to be home. I want the family, the love—I want Bishop. I love my baby. I love it so much, but I’m praying. I’m praying it’s his so I can go home.
“For you, I can have it back within a couple of hours.”
“Thank you.” I sigh, resting my head back on the sofa. A couple of hours. A couple of hours and I will know if my life is going to be changed for the better.
“Will this work?” Saint asks softly, slowly lowering herself down onto the single sofa. “I mean, because Bishop and I are only half-siblings? I know that we share fifty percent DNA, and half of that—like twenty-five percent. Will this work?”
Dr. Henare offers Saint a small smile. “Yes, because you and he still share twenty-five percent of that DNA, which this baby will hold fifty percent of his DNA. If this comes back inconclusive, it means the child is not his.”
Dr. Henare’s assistant—I didn’t catch her name—gestures to the sofa. “Lie down, sweetheart. Let’s get a peek at this little bub.”
“I’m nervous.” I slowly lie back while lifting my shirt.
“Have you had an ultrasound yet?” Saint asks as cool jelly glides over my belly.
“No. I guess I haven’t felt like I wanted to. And—” I take a deep breath, closing my eyes. The shame of my initial reaction closing in around me, even if it was only for seconds. “And at first, I didn’t know if I was going to keep it.”
Thud. Thud.
“There’s your baby.” The woman gestures to the screen, and I hold my breath, watching as gray and black colors swirl together.
Thud, thud, thud.
“And there’s the other one!” It comes out as an echo. Like words my brain doesn’t want to hear, so it refuses to acknowledge them.
I stop breathing. “What?”
Her long finger lines the two shapes on the tiny screen. “Two babies in different sacs. They won’t be identical, so it could be a boy and a girl. Lucky.”
“No!” I yell, but it comes out as a whisper. “Two? Oh my God, no!”
“Madison, hey, it’s okay.” Saint rushes beside me, her hand on my arm.
I flinch away from her, no longer fighting the tears. “I’m sorry. It’s just, you look like him at times and I wish—”
She flexes my arm. “It’s going to be fine.”
I appreciate her optimism, but it’s not. It’s really not. I’m not just having one baby, I’m having two babies. Two babies that may or may not be Bishop’s.
The doctor wipes off the gel from my belly. “You’re safe to have the extraction. Would you like to do it here, or we can take you into a bedroom?”
“Here is fine.” The words leave me, but my mind is still reeling. Two fucking babies.
Saint disappears into the kitchen. She’s just got off a long flight. I feel bad for jumping at her straight away, but the sooner that these results are done, the better. I’m distracted. Distracted by the continuous what-ifs. So deep in my thoughts that I don’t feel the needle pierce my belly.
Both doctors repeat that they will have the results back in a couple of hours. I thank them for their time and slip more cash into their hands—even though I know my father would have made it well worth their while. It’s not until I’m looking down at the busy street below that I notice them slip into a high-end Mercedes with a familiar-looking number plate.
Could there be Kings in New Zealand?
“God, what am I going to do…” My phone rings in my hand and I jump, sliding it to answer just as I catch Saint in the kitchen, pulling food out of the cupboards.