Page 58 of Sinful Temptations

I blinked at Roman. How much had they talked about this?

“Thanks. Oh, Iknowthis is what everyone wants. Especially Richard. And his horrible parents. They never liked me. Richard made it clear that he’d never be a real father for the child.”

Laura was so calm, it was a bit surreal. I would be a blubbering mess if I was in her shoes.

“But that’s not why I’ve chosen this decision,” she continued. “This holiday has made me realize how much I’ve been missing. Before this, I’d never even left my hometown. There’s a whole world out there . . .” She waved her hand at the snowcapped mountains in the distance. “. . . waiting to be explored. I’m only twenty-two. I mean, what was I thinking . . . getting married at my age.” She shook her head. “Crazy.”

Roman nodded and grinned at me. “You have a point there.”

“And to be a mom. I am so not ready for that.” She rubbed her belly. “Somebody will love him though. Or her.”

“Oh, you’re giving the baby up for adoption.”

“Yes, oh sorry.” Her eyes bulged. “Did you think I was having an abortion? God, no. I’d never do that. This little guy was made with love—the love just faded away, that’s all.”

It took all my might not to drop my jaw. The love didn’t just fade away. It wasn’t there in the first place. Not if he’d treated her like that when he found out she was carrying his child. That wasn’t love. Then again, I had no idea what love was.

Roman turned to her and gave her that little sister look that I’d foolishly thought he only reserved for me. “I’m pleased you’ve reached a decision.”

“You helped.” She smiled up at him then at me. “So did you, Daisy.”

“I did?”

“Yes. Look at you—your life is amazing. You have so much fun. You’re not tied to anyone. You’re free. That’s what I want.”

Free?

If I was free, then why did I feel so trapped?

ChapterThirteen

The next day, as the glorious sunshine bounced off the distant snowcapped mountain and beamed in through my half-open curtain, two things happened. Both were not good.

The first one was that my fucking period started taking over my insides like an approaching Armageddon.

The second was another text message from Mother.

It had just five words . . .

Come home. I need you

Her text was ironic, given that when I had left home at the age of seventeen, not once did she ask me to come home.

Yet my guilt over choosing to stay in Europe rather than going to her side ate me up, like little, tiny mice, nibbling, nibbling at my fortitude. Not a day went by when I didn’t debate over my decision.

But then I’d think about the woman I was troubled over. My supposed mother who treated me like a stray cat and only fed me when she was feeding herself. I was always athorn in her side and knew it from a very early age. The best thing that ever happened to her was me moving out with William. Now she wants me back.

Grrrr.

Rolling out of bed, my fanny flaps felt like surfboards as I waddled to the restroom. I showered and washed my hair, but my hope of coming out refreshed and ready for a day exploring Jungfrau obliterated the second I sat down to put my shoes on.

My uterus was having its very own heavyweight boxing match. Compared to some of the stories I’d heard over the years, my usual monthly cycle was comparatively uneventful.

Not this month. It was making up for sixteen years of playing nice.

At any moment, my uterus was going to break free and eject through my vagina. The pain was worse than my previous cycles.

Maybe my recent sexual activity had something to do with it?

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