I grabbed my phone from the bedside table and checked the time. It was almost eight, and there was a message from five minutes ago from Adelaide.
ADELAIDE: Can you wake up now I really need to pee and my bladder is about to burst.
I snorted.
Same, though. Same.
ME: Are you up?
ADELAIDE: No, I think it might actually explode if I move.
ME: Can you send Alex to find Matthew for me? He’s not here?
ADELAIDE: Can’t. He’s not here.
Ugh.
ME: I’ll go find them.
I slid out of bed and peered out of the window. At least it was sunny outside—something about this day had to be bright because I had the feeling it wasn’t about to be my visit to the bathroom.
Something told me I already knew the result of the test I was about to take. It was a feeling I couldn’t put my finger on, but one I knew was there all the same.
Granted, there was also a little part of me that was arguing profusely with that gut feeling that it was all in my head, that it wasn’t possible, that it was all Ffion.
That was why I wanted to get this over and done with.
I wrapped myself up in my dressing gown and went in hunt of Matthew and Alexander. I presumed they were together somewhere, and all I could hope was that it wasn’t somewhere obscure.
I really, really needed to pee.
“Christopher. Do you know where Matthew is?” I said, corralling the man in the hall.
He grinned. “Asleep in the library with the duke, Eva.”
“Two birds, one stone.” I sighed. “Whatever are they doing in there?”
“I’m not sure. You’d have to ask them. Are you quite all right?”
“Yes, thank you. Just attempting to hunt the pair of them down before my sister has a conniption. Thank you!” I touched his arm and hurried in the direction of the library.
It was almost painful not to pee right now.
I pushed open the door. Just as Christopher had said, they were both in here, sleeping. They had a sofa each, neither had a blanket, and while Alex was on his front with one hand brushing against the floor, Matthew was on his back with one leg resting on the back of the sofa.
I crossed back through the hall and went into the kitchen, where I retrieved a frying pan and a wooden spoon under the watchful yet amused eye of Christopher. Without saying a word, I took them with me on my return to the library, where I stepped up close to the sofas and promptly smashed the spoon against the bottom of the pan.
The racket I created was, quite honestly, absolutely bloody deafening.
Both men jerked awake so severely that Alex’s entire body convulsed, and he fell off the sofa. Matthew was no calmer, and he jumped so hard that he banged his head on the wooden part of the sofa’s arm.
“Wake up!” I shouted, bashing the pan one last time. With a little extra vigour for good measure.
“Jesus fucking Christ,” Alex said, using the coffee table to sit up. “Eva, what on Earth are you doing?”
I set the pan and spoon on the coffee table and glared at them both. “If either of you think we are pissing on a stick while you take an early-morning nap in here, you can think again.”
Matthew sat up, rubbing the back of his head. “Yes, but was the frying pan necessary?”
“No, but it amused me greatly, so suck it up, get up, and come upstairs.”
“That feels like a bad order to disobey,” Alex muttered, getting up.
I shot him a dark look and stalked out of the room. “Hurry up!”
There was the sound of a scramble behind me and they caught up to me at the bottom of the stairs.
I stopped and turned around. “I need a cup.”
Matthew blinked at me. “I can get you a drink if you’re thirsty.”
“I am the furthest thing from thirsty, but I need a cup.”
“Why?”
“Peeing on a stick is nigh on impossible. Unlike you, I do not possess the ability to aim my urine at a moving target. I need a cup.”
Alexander cleared his throat. “I’ll get two cups.”
“Thank you. I’ll be in the bathroom, trying not to give myself a bladder infection from holding onto this. Make it quick.”
“Yes, Your Ladyship.”
“Shut your ass, Your Grace, before I shut it for you.”
I swore I heard him choke back a laugh as I turned and started walking up the stairs. Carefully. Ever so, ever so carefully.
Honestly, I was going to start leaking like a cheap bathtub in a minute.
Matthew swallowed, following me up. “I’m almost afraid to ask this,” he said. “But I always thought you had to pee on it.”
“Two options,” I said, holding up two fingers, deliberately showing him the backs of them in the slightly offensive gesture. “You can pee on the stick and make a mess, or you can pee into a cup and dip it in. Like a lollipop into sherbet.”