Page 43 of The Prince's Castaway Baby

Fumbling with the latch, I finally swing the door open to let Ella in, and she sweeps me into a great big hug, squeezing me so tight that everything seems better already.

“Did you dye your hair again?” I ask as she releases me. It’s only a week or so since I last saw her, but her previously mid-blond bob has turned platinum. It suits her. It makes her blue eyes sparkle.

“I was bored,” she says with a shrug, then looks me up and down. “And you look terrible.”

“Thanks a bunch,” I scoff.

“Sorry, hon. But you do. You’re sick, aren’t you?”

I grimace. “It’s just a stomach bug, I’m pretty sure.”

“Should I not come in?”

“No, please. I’m okay really, and I don’t think it’s contagious. It’s great to see you. I’ve been stuck in on my own for days.”

“Sweetie, why didn’t you say? I live literally just down the road. You can just come over anytime you want. You don’t even have to ask.”

“I know,” I say. “I just?—”

“You just nothing,” she says firmly, inviting herself in. “Don’t you dare ever feel like you’re not welcome.”

“Okay,” I sigh, knowing I’m defeated as I follow her through to the living room.

“Let me make some coffee,” she says, gesturing for me to take a seat.

“Oh, no, let me. Stop mothering me.”

And that’s when my stomach betrays me again, making me double over as I attempt to keep it together.

Ella points firmly at the sofa. “Absolutely not.”

Defeated, I sink onto the sofa and don’t bother protesting as she heads into the kitchen, returning a few minutes later with two mugs of coffee. Mine’s full of cream and sugar, just the way I like it.

“Okay, tell me everything,” Ella says, handing me my mug and sitting next to me. “Tell me all about these scientists. Have they bought all your photos already?”

I chuckle. “Not all of them. But a few. Enough. And I’ve been in some really interesting talks with people. Do you remember Dr. Matthews?”

“She’s the one who likes birds?” guesses Ella, and I grin.

She doesn’t really know that much about my work, but I love her for trying. She always makes me feel so listened to.

I tell her all about the red-footed boobies, and how Dr. Matthews and her team are inviting me along on their next tour, which is such a privilege I can’t even begin to believe it. They want my photos! They want to teach me all about their work! It’s unbelievably exciting to me.

And then nausea rises up my throat, and I can’t keep it down any longer.

I excuse myself to dash to the bathroom, where I promptly throw up.

“Are you all right, honey?” Ella calls from the living room.

“Yeah,” I lie, swallowing thickly, my eyes streaming. “I just keep throwing up. Stupid bug.”

I hear Ella’s footsteps approaching, and I know then that I’m not going to keep denying just how bad I feel. It’s not like she hasn’t seen right through it already.

Ella chuckles. “You know, if you hadn’t just been trapped on a desert island for weeks, I might have assumed you were pregnant.”

All the blood drains from my face as her words sink in. It’s a stupid joke. Unless…

It was one night. It was just one stupid night with Jensen, and I’m on birth control. Things like this aren’t supposed to happen.

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