16
Nicole
No. No. No.
That damn pregnancy test must be wrong.
I blink once, twice, and stare at the two lines on the pregnancy test that don’t seem to vanish.
My vision had been blurred earlier. Was there even a tiny chance that I was the only one seeing that I was pregnant?
One glance up at Dante and I take a step back.
He will never let me go. Not while I carry his child.
“So, it’s settled,” Dante says. He clears his throat, and his eyes flinch before he turns and storms out of the bathroom.
What is settled? I fold my arms protectively against my chest.
My head hurts and my stomach is somersaulting from the news.
I can hear his muffled voice just outside of the open bathroom door. Anger resonates through his tone. Even if I want to ignore him, and I desperately do, his voice is loud and booming.
He’s in the hallway speaking with the physician.
I toss the pregnancy test into the trash and wash my hands. One glance at my reflection in the mirror and I don’t recognize the girl staring back at me.
I slam the bathroom door shut. Of course, there’s no lock. There’s nothing to shove in front of the bathroom door to keep it secure except for the stupid little trash can that holds the pregnancy test and the box. There’s nothing else in the mint green can that matches the towels hanging on hooks.
I storm toward the shower and turn the knobs, blasting a jet of hot water into the tub. The shower pours down as I strip and toss my clothes on the floor.
The curtain is fabric with hints of blue, green, and gold in horizontal lines. I yank back the cloth material and step under the hot spray.
The water feels good, unlike the last time I had been blasted with a hose. I shut my eyes and tilt my head back. The roar of the shower drowns out Dante and the doctor.
Perfect.
It’s just what I need.
I lather my hair with shampoo. The fragrant is sweet and energizing with hints of spearmint and lavender. I rinse the suds and am relieved to find a bottle of matching conditioner.
These aren’t manly fragrances, and they don’t smell at all like Dante. Does he usually bring women home from the bar or the trafficking operation?
A shiver burns through me.
How many women has he owned?
I reach for the shower and crank the heat all the way up.
I know the shower isn’t cold, but I’m trembling and my teeth chatter.
I finish washing up as quickly as I can and shut off the shower spray. I pull back the curtain for a towel and stare into Dante’s sharp gaze.
“Get out!” I point at the door. “Who the hell told you that you could come in here?”
Dante hands me a towel from the hook. He’s silent.
“I could have found that myself.” It wasn’t like I had to dig around for a towel. The linens had been left out.