Page 11 of Say You're Mine

Because I will get out of here. I will find my way back to Cara and our child.

Chapter four

Cara

The soft cotton onesie slips through my fingers, a whisper of a future I can barely comprehend. It's tiny, impossibly so, and for a moment I'm overwhelmed by the thought of something so small, so pure, growing inside me.

"Earth to Cara," Sonya's voice cuts through my reverie, tinged with amusement and concern. "You've been staring at that onesie for five minutes straight. You okay?"

I blink, forcing a smile as I look up at my sister. "Yeah, sorry. Just... lost in thought, I guess."

Sonya's eyes soften, and she reaches out to squeeze my hand. "It's a lot, isn't it? But hey, that's why you've got us. Your own personal pregnancy posse."

As if on cue, Song and Louis round the corner, arms laden with a truly ridiculous amount of stuffed animals. My brother's face is lit up with childlike glee, while Louis looks exasperated and hopelessly endeared.

"Look what we found!" Song exclaims, practically bouncing on his toes. "They've got a whole jungle theme going on. Little nephew's gonna have his own personal zoo."

I can't help but laugh, the sound bubbling up from somewhere deep inside me. It feels good, like a release of tension I didn't even know I was holding. "Song, honey, I appreciate the enthusiasm, but I think the baby might be a bit overwhelmed by all that."

Louis nods sagely, though his eyes are twinkling with mirth. "I tried to tell him, but you know how he gets. Like a kid in a candy store."

"Hey!" Song protests, but there's no real heat behind it. He leans into Louis's side, a casual intimacy that makes my heart ache with a bittersweet mix of joy for them and longing for June.

God, June. He should be here, picking out ridiculous stuffed animals and debating the merits of various strollers. He should be holding my hand, whispering excited plans for the future in my ear.

But he's not. He's locked away in some godforsaken facility, and I'm here, trying to piece together a life without him.

The thought sends a wave of nausea rolling through me, and I have to grip the edge of the nearby shelf to steady myself. Sonya's at my side in an instant, her arm around my waist.

"Whoa, easy there," she murmurs, concern etched into every line of her face. "Maybe we should take a break, get some air?"

I shake my head, forcing down the bile rising in my throat. "No, I'm fine. Just a little dizzy spell. Pregnancy stuff, you know?"

But even as the words leave my mouth, I know it's more than that. It's the weight of everything - the fear, the uncertainty, the gnawing ache of June's absence.

Louis steps forward, his brow furrowed with worry. "Cara, love, there's no shame in taking it slow. We've got all the time in the world to shop for the little one."

I open my mouth to protest, but the words die on my tongue as a familiar, cutting voice slices through the air.

"My, my. What do we have here?"

My blood runs cold, every muscle in my body tensing as I turn to face the source of that honeyed venom.

Elaine Deveaux stands before us, resplendent in a tailored Chanel suit that probably costs more than my entire wardrobe. At her side is Amethyst, her hand resting protectively over the swell of her belly.

My stomach lurches at the sight, a toxic cocktail of jealousy and disbelief churning in my gut.

Elaine's lips curve into a predatory smile as her gaze rakes over me, taking in every imperfection, every sign of my less-than-stellar pedigree. "Doing a bit of shopping, are we? How... quaint."

I straighten my spine, refusing to cower under her scrutiny. "Mrs. Deveaux. What a surprise to see you here. Slumming it with the commoners?"

Her eyes narrow, a flash of anger breaking through her perfectly composed mask. "Hardly. We're here overseeing the charity drive. Amethyst insisted on making a personal appearance, didn't you, dear?"

Amethyst nods, her smile so saccharine it makes my teeth ache. "It's important to give back to the community," she simpers, every word dripping with false sincerity. "Especially now that we're expecting our little bundle of joy."

The words hit me like a physical blow, and I have to fight to keep my expression neutral. Our little bundle of joy. As if June had any say in the matter, as if this whole thing isn't just some sick, twisted scheme cooked up by Elaine and her cronies.

"How generous of you," I manage, the words tasting like ash on my tongue. "I'm sure the less fortunate are eternally grateful for your magnanimity."

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