Page 100 of Release Me

Not yet.

“I see. Then given the very positive pregnancy test, it seems likely that your implant expired, leaving you without any form of protection.”

“Oh.”

It all makes sense now. The sore boobs, the vomiting, the mood swings. Everything, except the vomiting, which I’d attributed to some isolated case of food poisoning and then disgust at being in such close proximity to Vince, seemed to fit my pre-menstrual symptoms. Were they a little more intense than usual? Yes, but I thought that was just an indication of a rough period ahead.

“I can’t be pregnant.”

Can’t doesn’t feel like the right word, but it’s what comes out. Dr. Suffrant nods with understanding.

“You don’t have to be,” she says, moving over the the counter where there are pamphlets on everything from HPV to abortion, and my heart skips several beats when her long, elegant fingers grip the edge of the latter.

I jump to my feet. “No!”

Dr. Suffrant spins around with a quickness. “Nadia, it’s okay.”

“No, it’s not. I just…I don’t…I can’t be here right now.”

Any response from my doctor is lost in the sound of the metal knob of the door slamming into the wall as I flee the exam room with the same urgency I fled the scene of the car accident that led me to New Haven and Sebastian.

“Nadia, wait!” Dr. Suffrant calls out, but I’m already moving, turning to the right toward the door with an exit sign above it that I’m sure is only supposed to be used for office staff. My chest is tight and my lungs are burning as I bend at the waist to try to catch my breath. It’s so quiet outside, and when I finally get my bearings, I realize that I must have gone out of the employee exit because all of the cars in this part of the parking lot are empty.

I’m not thinking. Not really. Because if I was thinking I would have went back into the building and listened to what Dr. Suffrant had to say. I would have went back out the front instead of sneaking around the side, avoiding the other two members of my security team while also using the ride share app on my phone to order a car home.

My anxiety riddled brain tells me that’s the only place I want to be, that once I’m there, inside the walls of my home, everything will make more sense, but even when I’m home staring at the eight positive pregnancy tests I bought at the grocery store downstairs, I’m still confused.

“How did this happen?”

It’s a stupid question because Dr. Suffrant already told me how this happened. Expired birth control. Why is that even a thing? It shouldn’t be a thing. Birth control should last forever. No, that’s ridiculous, but it should at least give you a warning before it just opts out of doing its job, leaving you high and dry in your time of need.

The constant vibrating in my purse—which is beside the damning sticks with double pink lines, blue crosses, and, perhaps the most damning of all, bold letters that spell out the word in all caps—alerts me to the fact that my phone is ringing. Again. I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve heard it ring since I stumbled through the door, choking down vomit and wondering how often in office pregnancy tests are wrong, but I know it’s a lot.

I know it’s a number that indicates that the security team I abandoned at the doctor’s office are now aware I’ve disappeared. I know it’s a number that indicates that Sebastian knows I’m currently missing in action. And I also know it’s a number that means I should be doing something besides staring at the pregnancy tests that confirm Dr. Suffrant’s assessment of my situation.

I’m pregnant.

Holy, fuck, I’m pregnant, and I don’t know what I’m going to do about it.

I’d be lying if I said I haven’t been thinking about family and what it would look like to have one of my own since Sebastian told me he loved me. Those thoughts seemed to double after he revealed that my paternal grandparents were looking to have a relationship with me, but they also came grinding to a halt the moment Vince made those disgusting insinuations on Thanksgiving. It was hard to even stomach my dinner while sitting across the table from him and harder still to get back in touch with the part of myself that, for a fleeting moment, felt worthy not only of being a part of the Adler family, but adding to it.

And now, here I am, in a cloud of shame and confusion because I’m not prepared for any of this. For the conversation I’ll have to have with Sebastian about what I might have given Vince before it belonged to him. For the conversation where I’ll have to explain how I—a woman who has spent so much of her life actively avoiding pregnancy—wound up getting knocked up by a man like Sebastian. Everyone will think I planned it. They’ll say it was a ploy for me to sink my claws into him, to tie my life and financial standing to him in a permanent way. They’ll suspect that I’ve tried this before, and it won’t matter that Sebastian is actually the first man I’ve never used a condom with—which is kind of surprising given my history. It won’t matter that I was just so wrapped up in being happy that I forgot to think about him actually wrapping it up.

As I sink down into a chair, I find myself wondering if this is how my mother felt when she found out she was pregnant with me. She probably did, and when the news came out, my grandparents confirmed her worst fears. The only saving grace was the love between her and my dad. A love that was the result of a bond built over years of knowing and fighting for each other. Sebastian and I have only known each other for a few months, less if you count the fact that up until a few weeks ago he didn’t even know my real name. He loves me and I love him, but men that grow up with bank accounts like his are trained to set all emotion aside when it comes to situations like this.

A small helpless whimper escapes me, and I bite my lip, forcing myself to fight back the tears that want to fall. I’m scared and overwhelmed, and that overwhelm increases ten fold when I hear a commotion outside my front door. Almost immediately, I know that Sebastian is somewhere in the mix. I feel his energy as several large and imposing frames come crashing through the door.

“NADIA!” Sebastian roars, breaking through the crowd with his face a thunderous mixture of anger and fear. When he spots me at the table—standing now because I don’t want him to see the pregnancy tests resting on their individual boxes in neat lines just yet—there’s momentary relief that’s quickly overtaken by fury.

He stalks towards me, and I find that I can’t move a muscle as he closes the distance between us. I don’t flinch because I know that Sebastian won’t hurt me, and I don’t run because the only thing I truly want is the comfort of his arms. With one hand that’s shaking with tension and the desire to be gentle, he reaches for me, snaking his hand behind my hair to grip the nape of my neck and draw me into him. His lips press into the skin of my forehead, and I feel the fear and worry radiating off of him underneath the layers of the anger. He holds me there for long seconds, and I let him because I need this closeness too.

“Four hours,” he growls, letting me go. “Four hours ago you agreed to do whatever is necessary to stay safe, and yet, you take the first opportunity available to disappear into thin fucking air without so much as a word to them or me.”

It’s not a question but an accusation that drips with censure and love. That both makes my heart swell and break. I didn’t mean to worry him.

“I’m sorry.”

Sebastian shakes his head. “I don’t want you to be sorry, Nadia. I want you to be careful. When Russ called and said you were gone, I thought…” He lets the sentence break in half, but I see the naked truth of his fear in his eyes. He shakes his head again, this time to clear the thoughts away. “Why would you just leave the doctor’s office like that?”

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