Page 72 of Bloody Lace

I text Dahlia, because it’s the only thing I can do. I can’t go to a drugstore without Gus coming with me, and I’m willing to bet I won’t be able to sneak anything past him now. He’s watched mewith an eagle eye ever since that day that I snuck out to lunch with Dahlia, and he hardly ever takes his eyes off of me now. I don’t want him knowing that I’m worried about this. I don’t even want there to be a hint of it until I know, and I know what I’m going to tell Dimitri.

Dahlia texts me back with nothing but a string of exclamation marks, but thirty minutes later, she’s walking into the shop holding a plastic bag. “Ineedto show you this new foundation,” she says, grabbing my arm and steering me back towards the bathroom. “It covers all of your freckles. It’s insane.”

I don’t have any freckles, but I doubt Gus has noticed that, and it’s as good an excuse as any to go back to the bathroom with her. The moment we’re behind the closed door, she grabs the box out of the plastic bag, thrusting it at me with narrowed eyes.

“I can’t believe you didn’t tell me that the two of you slept together.” She crosses her arms over her chest as I take the box. “I can’t believe you keptthata secret from me.”

It was mostly because of the circumstances surrounding it, but I don’t want to tell her about that. I can’t imagine what her reaction would be right now if she knew about Dimitri spanking me because I snuck past my bodyguard.

“I don’t think I wanted to admit to myself that it happened.” I unwrap the packaging, my fingers shaking a little.I can’t be pregnant. I can’t.“We weren’t supposed to?—”

“I can’t believe you thought you were going to actually make it through being married to that man andnotfuck him.” Dahlia shakes her head. “Did you not use a condom?”

I bite my lip. “It happened fast. It wasn’t—we didn’t plan it.” It sounds like a lame excuse, even to my ears, but I’m thankful that Dahlia is as good a friend as she is. She doesn’t say anything judgemental, or scold me. She just lets out a slow breath, and nods at the test.

“Only one way to find out.”

A minute later, we stand there, staring at the plastic stick on the counter. Dahlia grabs my hand and holds it. “If you’re pregnant,” she says, “you have options. You know I’d help you with anything you wanted to do.”

I nod. But deep down, I already know that if there’s two pink lines on that test, there’s no going back. I never imagined myself as a mother, but I also feel a strange squeeze in my chest at the thought of being pregnant with Dimitri’s child. It’s fear, but it’s something else, too. Something that terrifies me down to my core, because I never meant to feel it. Something I can’t let myself give a name to.

I close my eyes tightly. “Tell me when the result is up,” I whisper, and Dahlia squeezes my hand, holding onto it as the seconds tick by.

“Evelyn.”

The way she says my name tells me before I even open my eyes what the result is. I look at the pink lines, and immediately grab the second test out of the box.

“I’m going to try again.” As if it’s a test I could pass, if I just got to retake it. But five minutes later, the result is the same. I’m pregnant, and as I stare at the two plastic sticks side by side, a dizzying wave of nausea sweeps over me.

“Evelyn—” Dahlia starts to speak, and I know she’s going to offer help, solutions, something to fix the situation for me. But I don’t think thereisany fixing it. I don’t know that I want a fix. I think I want the baby, and that’s one of the strangest feelings I’ve ever had. It washes over me, making me close my eyes tightly for a moment to try to get my bearings, and when I open them again, Dahlia is looking at me with concern.

“I just need a little time,” I tell her. “Some time to think about this. Thank you for bringing the tests and staying with me—but I need to be alone for a little bit, I think. I just need…”

“Whatever you need,” she promises me. “I’m a text or a phone call away, okay? If you need me, I’ll come back here, to Dimitri’s, to your old place—wherever you need me to be. Okay?”

I nod, my throat tightening, and she gives me a quick, tight hug. The moment she steps out of the bathroom, closing the door behind her, I sweep the box into the trash and stuff the two tests into my purse, as if not looking at them can change things.

But it doesn’t change anything. The sight of those two little pink lines are burned into my mind, and my thoughts race, as I try frantically to think of what I’m supposed to do next.

If I want this baby, what does that mean?

It’s hard for me to believe that one time without a condom resulted in this—but that’s how accidents happen, isn’t it? One slip-up, one error. It didn’t feel like a mistake when it was happening, but afterwards, I knew it was a dangerous line for us to cross.

That’s why I tried to keep it from happening again.

Do I tell Dimitri?The thought instantly terrifies me, but I can only keep it from him for so long. His father isn’t doing well, I know that—Dimitri has mentioned before that his health isn’t good. Once he passes away and Dimitri inherits, no one will be able to force Dimitri to marry against his will, and we’ll divorce. I’ll be free then. But there’s no telling how long that will be. Probably longer than I can hide a pregnancy.

If Dimitri knows I’m pregnant, I have a feeling all of that will change. I don’t think he’ll let me go easily, if I’m carrying his child. I think, if he were to find out, that the terms of our agreement might change very quickly.

Can I keep it a secret until I absolutely have to tell him?I can play a waiting game, and hope that I’m free of our marriage before the pregnancy starts to show. But the thought makes my chest tighten, and I don’t know if I want that, either.

I don’t know what I want. I hadn’t expected this to happen, had thought that I’d be safe as long as I didn’t fall prey to his seduction again. But that turned out to be very wrong.

I’m so caught up in my tumbling, chaotic thoughts that I don’t hear the footsteps in the shop until I hear Dimitri’s voice, calling out my name.

“Evelyn?”

My heart slams against my ribs.What is he doing here? Now, of all the times?I check my purse, making sure that the tests are fully inside, and yank at the zipper, trying to close it as I step out of the bathroom.

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