Page 54 of The Prince's Green Card Scheme

“I am old, not so stupid,” says Maria with a wry smile. “Tell me how it has happened.”

“I guess it must have been the night after we were married. It was a really good night… Oh, God! What am I going to tell Paolo? He won’t want this.”

Maria strokes my hair, gently squeezing my shoulders. “Don’t worry about that now. We’re not even certain that this is true. This could all just be the nerves of having to meet the king and the queen.”

“Please don’t remind me of that,” I whisper. This is all a nightmare enough as it is.

“Do you want the baby?” Maria asks.

“I want to know if it’s real,” I say covering my face with my hands. “And if itisreal… I don’t know. Yes, of course, I want it if it’s real.”

“Come and lie down,” says Maria.

She helps me to my feet and guides me slowly to the bed. I close my eyes the second my head hits the pillow.

“I’ll be back soon,” she says. “I’ll bring some medication and a test. Everything’s going to be okay. Please try not to worry too much.”

In that second, I trust her implicitly.

When I open my eyes again, Maria’s back, and I realize I must have fallen asleep for a while.

“Are you ready to take the test?” she asks, smiling kindly as I sit up.

“No,” I say, holding out my hand for her to give it to me.

She hands the test to me without a word, and I head to the bathroom to pee on the stick. As if this couldn’t get more humiliating than it already is.

And then we wait.

Maria sits with me and holds my hand as we wait for the results, trying to distract me from the catastrophes I’m cooking up in my mind.

She sets a five-minute timer, and the second it goes off, she goes to the stick and snatches it up so I can’t see it. “Are you ready to know?”

“Just put me out of my misery.”

I close my eyes hard, clenching my fists. In my heart, I know the answer already.

Quietly, Maria says, “It’s positive.”

I can’t help but sob again. It’s not entirely a surprise, but it’s definitely not what I was expecting out of today.

“What am I going to tell Paolo?” I ask again. I can imagine the horror on his face now.

I can also imagine him with a baby in his arms, smiling. Playing with it. Being a good dad.

“We can worry about that later,” says Maria. “It is definitely his?”

I throw her the kind of look that makes it clear her joke is not funny right now, and she squeezes my shoulder in comfort.

“Let us worry about the king and the queen and the big dinner first. Let us pray to God that that goes smoothly, and once all of that stress is over, then we can tell Paolo.”

“Sounds good,” I say, even though all of this couldn’t sound any further from good.

“Do you want me to stay?” Maria asks. “Or would you prefer to be alone?”

“Please don’t leave me,” I say, too quickly. “I don’t think I can do this on my own.”

“Then I will stay.”

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