Page 56 of Knocked up By the Minotaur

“Yes,” I whisper, “because I’m being selfish.”

Ella’s lips purse, and she takes a moment before she responds. “If he were to give all this to you willingly, Gracie, it wouldn’t make you selfish to accept it.”

I stare at her, not knowing how to respond to that.

“You’ve been giving all your life,” she continues. “When mum and dad both had to work double shifts, you gave your all to help raise me, even though you’re barely older than me. You give all you have to your partners, even when they don’t deserve it. You helped me through my first two difficult years when I was raising my twins alone, all while raising your own son. You’ve supported Lucas and Brad for over four years, working hard to make them both comfortable in every way you can, even when only one of them deserved it. You give and you give, and, Gracie… I’m afraid that you’ve forgotten what it feels like to receive.”

Tears spring to my eyes, and I can’t formulate words, because my throat is suddenly tight.

“You don’t need to run yourself to the ground just to prove that you love someone. Anyone who demands that isn’t asking for love. They’re asking for servitude.”

A hot tear slides down my cheek as those words strike me straight in the heart, and I watch as Ella’s face softens with sadness.

“Oh, Gracie…” She gets up and waddles over to my side of the booth, awkwardly sliding in beside me so she can wrap her arms around my shoulders. “I love you so much, and I’m forever grateful for everything you’ve ever done for me. I can only hope I’m able to be there for you just as much.”

“You are,” I say with a sniffle. “You always have been. I love you, too.”

“You don’t have to tear yourself apart for the people around you,” she says softly, running a hand up and down my bicep. “If someone loves you back, they’ll wantto give.”

I wrap my arm around her lower back and rest my head against her shoulder.

“Listen, you know I’ll be there for you no matter what happens, right?” she murmurs, and I nod. “Good. I think you should tell Oli.”

I bite my lip. “But…”

“He has a right to know, and to make his own decisions about it. Remember how badly it went for me when I didn’t tell Rho about the twins? Don’t try to do what you think is best for Oli. Just tell him, and see what happens from there, okay?”

I sigh. “You’re right. I will. I just need a few days to process.”

“Okay, but don’t wait too long. This town is the most gossipy place I’ve ever been. You wouldn’t want him finding out from someone else.”

I nod against her shoulder, my mind once more running a hundred miles an hour, but this time with nervous dread weighing me down at the thought of being the one to ruin Oli’s life. Despite what Ella said, my emotions can’t seem to catch up with her words and I still feel wracked with guilt.

Guilt for blatantly taking advantage of his body, his time, and his willingness to stand beside me in defense whenever Brad got too much for me. Guilt for getting attached to him when he never agreed to anything other than a physical connection. Guilt for bringing a child into his life, one way or another, because that isn’t what he’s ever wanted. I even feel guilty for wanting my new baby, as if that desire of mine is somehow a betrayal to him.

Eventually, Darleen returns to clear our plates with a sympathetic expression, and Ella and I decide it’s time to pack and head home. We pay and make our way out.

“CONGRATULATIONS,” a deep, booming Russian voice calls out from the kitchen as we walk past, and we both turn in confusion to see the huge troll chef leaning over the pass and smiling. Directly at me. “I AM GLAD TO HEAR OF HAPPY NEWS. MAY YOUR BELLY GROW LARGE AND—”

Panic laces through me again, and I spring towards the chef and grab him by the collar of his white shirt, pulling him closer aggressively.

“One more word out of you,” I hiss, “and they’ll be finding your body scattered in pieces around America for years.”

He blinks, his eyes round and surprised as he stares at me an inch away from his nose. “BUT—”

I clamp my free hand over his big mouth, and glare. “Shhh.”

Behind him I see the handsome face of the diner owner, I think his name is Daniel, leans out from the walk-in cooler in the kitchen with a frown.

“Hey,” he barks, “what did I say about violence in my establishment?”

I drop the troll’s shirt and squeeze my shoulders past him, leaning into the kitchen so I can whisper-shout back at the owner. “If anyone else finds out I’m pregnant before… before the lodge’s half-opening night this weekend,” I snap, throwing out the first deadline that pops into my head, since I know that permanent silence is impossible around here, “I will personally shove so many silver bullets up your ass that even your grandkids will need bulletproof toilets!”

His brows shoot up in surprise, before he lets out a long, defeated sigh as he realizes what must have happened. “Darleen…”

“Don’t let them say anything,” I plead, even as I bang my fist against the pass in frustration. “Just for a few more days. Please.”

Daniel sighs again and throws the towel he was holding over one broad shoulder. “I can keep them in check for a few days, but I make no promises beyond that.”

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