Page 41 of Romancing the Reaper

Isn’t my period due soon? If it’s been a few weeks… it was a few weeks from my last one when I got kidnapped. I had obsessed about my period before the Met Gala because I was terrified thatI was going to bleed on Maeve’s dress. That is why I remember it. Since I had never been with anyone before now, it’s not like it’s something that I had ever had to worry about before.

I do quick mental math on my fingers. Three days. The only time that I’ve ever been late on a period was back when my weight had dropped under a hundred pounds and I couldn’t ovulate. Since starting my treatment…

Maybe it’s just because I haven’t been eating. It’s got to be just because I’m off of my routine and so stressed that I’m wearing it on my face. I only seem to sleep on the nights that I’ve been with Kieran. But it’s not like I’m on birth control. Kieran hasn’t been using a condom either.

I can’t be pregnant.

Me? A mother?

I can’t bring a child into this world! There’s too much chaos. It’s too uncertain.

My family loves each other deeply, but that’s rare. Kieran is using me in his revenge plot! It’s too overwhelming.

I feel nauseous for reasons that have absolutely nothing to do with my disorder. It’s impossible. I need to know. I can’t allow this to happen. I don’t even know what sort of father that he would be. This could make everything so much worse!

I am overthinking this. I have to be. I’m not pregnant, I’m just stressed.

There’s no other option.

Well, at the very least I’m going to ignore the growing dread.

I have to leave this bathroom or he’s going to come in here thinking that something’s wrong and I won’t have an answer for him.

I close my eyes and attempt to steady myself. It doesn’t feel like it works very well, but it is the best I can do. I smooth down the clothes that Kieran bought me, the ones that I’ve tried my best to style with what I have available. At least it makes me look like a semblance of the version of me that was kidnapped, although I don’t think that I will ever be the same woman, even after this short amount of time.

Pushing the bathroom door open, pretending that my hands aren’t trembling, I make my way to the kitchen. The aroma of fresh coffee and the sizzle of bacon greets me. The queasy feeling in my stomach grows. I swallow back the excess saliva pooling in my mouth. I refuse to go back into that bathroom to throw up.

Kieran stands with his back to me. It’s hard not to admire the way his muscles ripple under his black cotton t-shirt even from such simple movements. I stand silently in the doorway to watch him work, the simple movements he makes with casual ease as he puts the plates together. More eggs. I move over to the stooland sit, and Kieran glances over his shoulder at me with a soft smile.

“Mornin’ sleeping beauty.” He greets me and brings a plate of carefully separated food over to me. It would look perfect, if I was at all hungry. I pull the plate towards me and grab a fork so that he doesn’t automatically start scowling at me, but I have no inclination to put any of this in my mouth.

“Morning.” I answer, but I don’t think I can pretend to be casual for much longer. “What day is today?”

Kieran gives me a strange look. “It’s Wednesday? The seventeenth.”

My stomach drops. I swallow thickly and start to poke at the eggs on my plate slowly, nodding as if my interest was nothing suspicious. But his answer confirms everything that I was worried about. I’m three days late. I manage to choke down a piece of greasy bacon and about half of the eggs that he’s put on the plate before me.

If I’m pregnant, I can’t starve my - our baby. Just thinking about it makes me want to cry. My mind is a whirlwind of thoughts. Kieran carries out a very one-sided conversation with me that I can’t even properly hear, let alone process. I can’t tell him. He can’t know. With the fragile state of my health, there’s no knowing if it’s going to stick anyway. Right? Some of the other girls that I’ve worked with before had miscarriages because they just didn’t have enough resources in their body for the baby to share. In my industry, vanity often prevails.

The alliance that has formed between us is precarious at best. In the bedroom, there’s no room for miscommunication when his body speaks to mine. But here? Out here, where I’m forced to rely on my words? Maybe I shouldn’t allow him to touch me anymore. That way maybe it won’t make the situation worse. Is that even a thing? I should have paid so much more attention to Maeve when she was talking about her pregnancy.

Kieran and I don’t need any more layers of uncertainty in our strange situation.

I have to figure this out on my own. I at least have to give myself time to properly process everything, then I will take whatever is going to come next.

Kieran drops his heavy silverware down onto his empty plate with enough force that the clatter of it startles me. He clasps his hands together, elbows resting on the table, and rests his chin on his joined hands. He gives me a look like he can read my mind, like he’s trying to read every thought that I’m hiding away from him.

“What’s the matter, Ada?”

The opportunity is before me. I can tell him right now, but the words won’t form. I shrug my shoulders.

“I’m tired. Somebody exhausted me last night.” I hold his gaze until he smirks, seeming to buy the excuse. Well, it’s not just an excuse. He did keep me up all hours of the night. But I certainly was enjoying myself at the time.

Kieran resumes eating and I pick at the rest of my plate until I can’t be alone with my thoughts any longer. The weight of possibly being pregnant feels heavy. It’s going to consume me.

“Actually, do you mind if I go lie down for a bit?” I ask, knowing I don’t actually need his permission to do so.

“You’re that worn out?” He asks skeptically. “I’ll go easier on you next time.”

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