“I… um…”
“Take some time to process. We would like you to come in over the next few days to see us.”
“Okay.”
“Will it be alright to give you a call on Tuesday to set up an appointment if we haven’t heard from you?”
“Yes that will be fine.”
“Great, we’ll speak to you soon.”
“Thank you.” I’m on autopilot and still like that when I hang up the phone.
I’m pregnant. Me.
No wonder I’ve been throwing up and I can barely keep water down. That was the only clue, and it suddenly emerged over the last few days.
I’m pregnant. There’s a baby inside me.
I feel bad for being in shock, and I feel bad for not feeling happier. Then I start to freak. Desmier said he didn’t want kids. But that was before. When… when he hated me. He doesn’t hate me now, but how do I tell him?
Will he be happy or mad at me for being careless?
“Anastasia,” Jayce calls from the car parked paces away from me on the driveway. I don’t even remember he was waiting for me, or seeing him. “Are you okay?”
“Yes. Sorry.” I make my way toward him, and he opens the door for me to get inside the car.
“You look pale. Are you sure you should be going anywhere?”
“Yes. I’m fine.” I’m not fine. I feel like I’m going to throw up again, and I’m sure that will be because of nerves.
“Okay. Just checking. The boss will have my head if I take his wife out when she’s sick.”
“Don’t worry. You won’t get in trouble.” I give him a smile and get in the car.
He closes the door, and minutes later, we’re driving off the property.
I get lost in my thoughts, feeling sicker than sick the closer I get to Mira’s house.
Two hours later, we’ve arrived, and Jayce leaves.
Shaky legs carry me inside the house when the butler opens the door, and I’m led to the sunroom, where Mira sits looking like a shell.
She smiles for me, but her eyes are red, and she has that emaciated look again like when Evgeni first got sick. Only God must know what she’s going through.
I hug her when she stands, feeling glad I came.
“I’m so sorry, Mira. I’m so very sorry.”
She dabs away tears when we pull apart. “Thank you for coming to see me. I appreciate it in light of all you’ve gone through.”
“I had to see you. Just to see how you are. I know you can’t be okay, but I still had to come and see for myself.”
She motions for me to sit. I do, and she sits next to me. “I have to be strong. I knew this was coming. Part of me prepared. Part of me didn’t want to let him go.”
“I don’t think you could ever be prepared for death,” I reason, giving her hand a gentle squeeze.
“No. You can’t. It’s been awful not having him here, but at least I could see him at the hospital. Now I’ll never see him again and I have to make arrangements for… the funeral.”