“Well?” I asked, feeling as though I was about to cry.
She squeezed my hand and gave me brave smile.
“You’re pregnant.”
Chapter 17
Pregnant. With a baby. Marcus’ and my baby. Pregnant.
I don’t remember getting home. For that matter, I don’t know when I started referring to the villa as home. Amanda loaded me up in a pre-paid cab and gave them my address. I don’t remember walking up the stairs. I don’t remember what Marcus was doing before he leapt up excitedly and took my hand.
“How was the cake tasting?” he asked in a rush. “Doesn’t matter,” he answered his own question. “I’m sure it was really boring. Hey listen—I want to talk to you about something.”
He led me to the bed and I sank robotically down, unblinking, with a single word running through my head.
Pregnant.
He was too caught up in his own excitement to notice.
“Rebecca.” He sat down beside me and took both my hands. “I’ve been thinking a lot about our situation. We’re all caught up with each other, but now everyone we know is getting involved, and it feels like we’re in too deep, and now we have all these actual feelings for each other…blah, blah, blah.” And I know what you’re thinking—he is as eloquent as he is beautiful. “But anyway, I’ve been really thinking about it. In fact, I was thinking about it when this invitation arrived this morning.”
He waved something colorful in front of my face. It looked like an invitation.
“Now, don’t apologize—don’t say anything at all. I know you had nothing to do with it. This has your mother written all over it, and to be perfectly honest, I think the fact that she wants to throw us a congratulatory party is very sweet. But it got me thinking—what if we use the party as a moment to announce…our wedding date?”
I think I might have blinked.
“I know what you’re thinking.” He held up his hands. “And I’m not saying that we actually get married. I’m just saying…what if we didn’t necessarily not get married? People have one year, two year, even three-year engagements all the time. Why don’t we just pick some far-off date, so everyone will stop pestering us about it, and just…see how it goes?”
My eyes dropped to my lap.
“I get that it’s only been a few months,” he clarified quickly, “I do get that. And I swear I’m not one of those people who’s like, ‘let’s just get hitched and see what happens,’ it’s just—”
He took my hands in his.
“I know we haven’t known each other long, but we have this amazing connection.” He gripped my hands and looked into my eyes. “I love you, Rebecca. And it’s not too soon to say that. There’s no magic length of time before saying, ‘I love you.’”
Wow! He just said those three little magic words to me. My heart was racing so fast. Shit! He just told me he officially loved me. Not I’m falling in love with you, but the actual, “I love you.”
“When I look into your eyes, I just know you’re the only woman in my life,” he said. “There’s this emotion that completely overtakes me, and I’ve never felt like this with anyone.” He softly kissed my lips. “I love you so much, always and forever.”
“I love you too,” I said.
Our eyes locked and we stared into each other’s eyes. It was a beautiful moment, one that was etched into my mind forever.
“I know it hasn’t been that long,” he said. “I’m just saying that I don’t see why we would call this whole thing off and derail everyone’s lives when…when things are going so well between us.”
He must have interpreted my silence as panic because he backpedaled quickly.
“You hate the idea,” he guessed. “I know. It’s crazy. I wasn’t even really considering it. Unless…you don’t completely hate it. Because the great thing about keeping a date but just pushing it back is that we could change our minds at any time. The second you decide you’re actually sick of me, you can pack up your bags and walk away. There’s absolutely nothing stopping you. But if…if you decided you wanted to stay. Well…” His eyes glowed at the prospect. “…then we might actually have a real shot at making this work. And by this, I don’t mean our master deception. I mean…us. You and me, Rebecca. Something real.”
I opened my mouth, but no words came out. The longer I was quiet, the more color drained from his face. Eventually, he let go of my hands and pulled back, giving me some space.
“Okay, say something. Please. You’re killing me here.”
My eyes came up to his, drowning in an ocean of tears.
“Honey, please don’t cry!” he exclaimed, pulling me close once again. “We don’t have to keep the date—we don’t have to do anything you don’t want to. Just tell me whatever you’re thinking.” His eyes focused manically on my mouth. “Say anything…please!”