Page 74 of In Love with the Devil

Mindy stares at me, and immediately, I know that she’s dead. I cover my face with both hands. “It’s all my fault. What have I done?”

Mindy pulls my hands from my face. “No. No, don’t you dare do that. It’s not. He did this, not you.”

“How did he kill her?”

“He stabbed her. He killed Emmanuel too. I thought… I was so scared you weren’t alive. Tory–” She sobs my name.

I cry into her shoulders for what seems like forever. All I have is Mindy. For too long after, Mindy sits on a plush love seat next to the bed while I refuse to let go of her hand. But then she looks down and finds the scar on my hand. I see her eyes widen and wince at the pain that scar represents and I pull it away and hide it. Her eyes shed tears and her lips tremble while staring at my face. "I can't believe you're alive, Tory. I-I'm so happy."

We hardly notice when Fernando joins us. I finally dare to ask, “Is Romeo alive? Did he–”

“He’s fine, but…" Mindy struggles to finish the sentence. "He never stopped looking for you,” adds Fernando, who is sitting next to Mindy.

“What?”The shock is obvious in my tone. How can a man wait this long for a girl he had a one-night stand with?

Mindy chuckles and, with her eyebrow raised, teases, “Yeah. That must’ve been quite the one-night stand.”

My cheeks burn and they both chuckle.

“Did you guys do the whole wedding thing?”I ask.

“Of course not, silly. How can you have a wedding without a maid of honor? That would be ridiculous,” Mindy replies.

“You waited for me?” At first I'm surprised then… "I'm so sorry. I'm sorry I ruined–"

“Tory, for fuck’s sake, you’re a sister to me. Of course I waited for you. You've ruined nothing.”

Minutes full of silence pass and I doze off despite my best efforts. When I wake up, the reality of what's happened washes over me again.My baby…

“He has my baby, Mindy. I don’t want it to grow up with him.”

"A baby? You had a baby, Tory?"

On cue, the doctor walks in.

“Actually, Tory, there’s something the doctor wants to explain to you. He was waiting for us to get here. Is it okay? I mean, do you want us here?”

I nod and my attention sweeps to the doctor in the lab coat with the chart in his hands.

“Ms. Torres.” He clears his throat. “Except for an exorbitant amount of oxytocin and prolactin in your system, and yourbreasts lactating, you show absolutely no signs of ever being pregnant or giving birth.”

My mouth drops open, and my heart thunders fast in my ears. I must have misheard because the words aren’t making sense to me. “What? No. No. You don’t understand. I was in labor for over eight hours. It hurt like hell. I–I had a belly, I couldn’t even bend down, my water broke. I mean, I know I’m not big anymore, but my breasts have been producing milk for months. He-he–” Every word in my mind shatters into broken letters. I squeeze my eyes shut. “You have to help me find my baby.”

Mindy squeezes my hand and my eyes snap to her, then back to the doctor. “I just want to hold him one time. Just one time. I promise. I felt him inside me.”

“Ms. Torres. There’s a scientific explanation for this.”

“What is it?” asks Mindy.

“Have you ever heard of a chemical pregnancy?”

We both look at him as if he has grown a third eye.

“A chemical pregnancy is a false pregnancy that can occur when the person is under a lot of stress about either accidentally getting pregnant, or when they struggle to get pregnant. Patients often experience all the symptoms of pregnancy because the hormones induce those changes in the body.”

I bite my bottom lip, shaking my head, remembering how afraid I was that I would become pregnant, how I even had nightmares.But it can’t be. How could I spend months vomiting and not sleeping if nothing was inside me?

“No. He did an ultrasound. There was a heartbeat." I pause, remembering how I wished that Julian was tricking me into thinking I was pregnant. Maybe the heartbeat was fake. No! No, that's not possible. It's the happiest he'd ever been. I killed my baby by wishing him away. "I want my baby. Even if it’s dead. I want to see it, to hold it. Please,” I weep into the yellow blanket. I'm so sorry, baby.

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