I run my finger over the sesame seed-sized cluster of cells that is my baby. It has complicated my life so much already. Not to mention, it is half Shaun, who is doing his best to ruin everything. But I can’t hate the baby. In spite of all that, the idea of losing it makes my chest hurt.
I’m hopelessly in love with the life growing in my womb. And I know I’m going to do everything in my power to protect it.
Chapter Six
Ryder
Something wakes me up.
I would’ve preferred some extra sleep. My head feels like there’s a platoon of Marines marching through it…all of them with jackhammers.
I flip onto my back, trying for some extra Zs, and wince. The pajamas I have on are constricting. I don’t even know who put me in them. I usually sleep in my boxer sh—
Raising my head, I look down at myself and curse. I’m not in pajamas, I’m still in the clothes I put on to go to the club. My head drops back on the pillow. I don’t need to consciously sniff to know that I stink.
Of course I know why I’m in this condition. It’s all that drinking and thinking about Paige’s ultimatum. I hate being cornered into making a decision. And despite what Elliot said, it’s not about what I want. No. It’s all about Paige’s threat.
I look at the bedside clock. Almost noon. There’s something I have to do… But what the hell was it?
I jackknife up, and pain explodes like a bomb in my head. I put the heels of both hands to my temples. Maggie and Simon are supposed to fly home this morning, and I was planning to go to the airport with them. But since I overslept, they probably left without me.
Gritting my teeth, I struggle up, swallow four aspirins, and drag myself into the shower. Getting out of my clothes is so difficult I seriously consider just walking into the stall with them on. But eventually I’m nude and under the hot and cleansing water. It feels like heaven, and the temptation to linger is overwhelming. But, stuff to do. I change into a clean t-shirt and shorts and walk barefoot to the kitchen to get some coffee.
Elizabeth and Paige are at the counter, their golden heads close like a couple of conspirators. My sister is wearing a pink sheath dress, while Paige is in sweats. They’re laughing over something, and Elizabeth rests her fingertips on the rim of a black mug that says Sexiest Man Alive. As irritated as I am, it warms my heart to see Paige happy. It’s almost like yesterday never happened. I note with approval that she remains seated at the counter when Elizabeth gets up to put away the tea and cookies they were having.
“Morning, sleepy-head,” Elizabeth says, tossing her curls over a shoulder. “Or maybe it’s more like good afternoon.”
“I would’ve gotten up earlier if somebody had woken me.”
Paige’s expression goes neutral. “The housekeeper said that you came home late, so I didn’t want to bother you.”
I hate it that I’m the reason the merry spark vanishes from her eyes and the fact that it’s making me feel like the villain here. My mood takes an ugly dive.
“Coffee?” Elizabeth asks, a determined smile on her lips. She isn’t going to let the tension between me and Paige ruin everything.
“Thanks.” I rub my temples. “Where’s the chef?”
“Taking a break. I think we can fend for ourselves for one meal,” my sister says. “But if you want something fancy…”
I wave it away. “Forget it. I can’t stomach anything other than coffee right now.” Once I feel better, I’ll have a smoothie or something. But I don’t need the chef for that.
Soon, Elizabeth places the coffee in front of me in a mug that reads The Person Drinking Out of This Is an Ugly Ogre, a gag gift from her two Christmases ago. I start chugging it down. As the hot brew settles in my gut, I start to feel almost human again.
The doorbell rings, and a few minutes later, my housekeeper Sue walks in with a huge bouquet of blue hyacinths and white tulips.
“Who are they for?” I ask.
Sue looks mildly apologetic. “The delivery guy didn’t say.”
“Ah, one of Elizabeth’s secret admirers.” Even though she discourages them, she has her share of men who won’t accept no for an answer. They’re mostly harmless, albeit a little slow on the uptake.
“Doubt that,” she says with a soft snort, but her eyes say otherwise.
“Regardless, they’re beautiful,” Paige says.
“They are. At least whoever sent them has good taste.” Elizabeth takes the flowers, pulls the card and reads it. “Dear Paige. Sorry about yesterday and I do hope you feel better.” She pauses for a moment. “Anthony.”
My coffee mug hits the counter with a loud thunk. “What the fuck?”