Page 48 of A Very Daddy Christmas

“You forced mine first,” I shoot back. “We’re not leaving. I don’t care who wants to take over the building. Unless they have more money to put down for it, we’re buying it. I’m not going anywhere.”

Orson takes a few deep breaths, nervously glancing around in search of another convincing argument. I’m not sure he has any left. The biggest ones flew right past me already. He knows I have no intention of caving in.

“You leave me no choice,” Orson says. “I’ll have to find a way to make you leave if you won’t do it willingly. I’d hoped you’d reconsider.”

“This is our home. You made plans that didn’t include us, I get it. But plans change.”

“This isn’t about my fucking plans!” he snarls, growing increasingly agitated, furious even. “This is about people with enough manpower and money to do things the hard way. The kinds of things you don’t want to be on the receiving end of. Just take your escrow money and leave. You’ll be better off, I promise.”

“No,” I reply bluntly.

“Cora, if you don’t leave, it will get worse. You’re taking every other decent option away from me,” Orson warns.

I’m inclined to believe him, yet my spirit refuses to yield. We’ve come too far with this place. We’ve sacrificed so much already. I think it’s a battle of wills and egos at this point, not just principles and fairness going up against a ruthless businessman. The issue runs deeper than that. I owe it to myself, and to my sister, to do my part and stand my ground. Orson is just trying to intimidate me.

“Do your worst, Mr. St. James, and I will bring the law down upon you, as heavily as I can. I promise, it will get much worse foryou,” I reply and get out of the limo.

As soon as the cold air hits me in the face, I get dizzy.

The car door close behind me, tires skidding in a rush to drive away. I glance over my shoulder and watch the limo disappear into the thickening traffic, heading north into the city. I step inside the bakery, where the smell of freshly baked cinnamon rolls fills my heart with sweet warmth.

It also fills my stomach with something rank and acrid. I don’t know what’s going on, but I’m positive I’m going to puke.

“Cora, are you okay?” I hear Eva ask.

I can’t focus on her. I’m too busy trying to keep myself upright. My head is getting lighter. My stomach tighter. What’s happening to me?

My knees feel weak, but I manage to give my sister a faint nod before I dash for the ladies’ room. I lock the door behind me and reach the toilet just in time by some sort of miracle.

Five minutes later, I’m drenched in cold sweat, a fire burning down my throat.

“Holy smokes,” I mutter as I pull myself up and flush the toilet.

One look at myself in the mirror above the sink, and I can tell something’s wrong. I’m paler than usual. Hungrier than usual. But then again, I’ve being going long stretches without being able to even stomach the mere sight of food. My mood swings have gotten worse.

I wash my face and pat it dry with a paper towel.

Then it hits me. My lips part in shock.

“Oh, shit.”

My period is late. It’s never late. It always arrives with Swiss precision. And given all the mindless lovemaking I’ve been doing…

I walk out of the bathroom and make a beeline for the street.

“Cora, what’s wrong?” my sister calls out.

“I’ll be right back. I’m sorry. I forgot something in my car,” I shout over my shoulder as the door shuts behind me. Crossing the street, I look both ways and thank the stars there’s a drugstore half a block down the street.

Fifteen minutes later, the plus sign glares at me with its happy shade of pink.

Eva’s knocking on the door. “Cora, talk to me! What’s going on with you?” my sister asks, heavy concern lacing her tone.

I’m shaking like a leaf. “I’m so sorry. I must have a bad case of the stomach flu or something, I’m not sure,” I reply with atrembling voice. “Give me a few minutes.”

“Are you okay? Do you need to go to the hospital?”

I nervously laugh. “No, I don’t think it’s that bad.”

---