Page 28 of Craving Dahlia

“All the same, you running to the bathroom and then leaving the party abruptly could cause all kinds of rumors. Like, for instance, that you’re pregnant, and that we’re trying to get you married quickly to cover it up. Of course, that’s not true, but?—”

My heart thuds in my chest. I had planned to go about this as carefully as possible, to find some way to lead into it, to soften the blow. But much like Evelyn blurted out my secret to Alek out of anger, I end up blurting it out from shock that he’s hit the mark so closely.

“I am.” I tighten my arms around myself, my fingers digging into my biceps. “Pregnant. That’s why I was sick. I just found out yesterday.”

For a brief moment, it’s so completely silent I could hear a pin drop. My mother’s face has gone sheet-white, and my father is staring at me as if he’s never seen me before.

“Dahlia Elizabeth Kennedy,” he growls, in a voice that I haven’t heard since I was five and knocked over an antique vase in the hallway. “This isn’t funny. Whatever game you’re playing, I’m done with these childish antics…”

“It’s not a game.” I swallow hard. “I’m pregnant. And I haven’t decided what I’m going to do about it yet, but I assume that means marriage to Jude is off the table…”

“You cannot be serious.” The blood drains from my father’s face, until he’s nearly as pale as my mother. “Everything I’ve done for you, all of the work I’ve put in to arrange your life comfortably, and you go and…” He breaks off, shaking his head. “Who is it?”

“No one you know.” I press my lips together. “He wants nothing to do with it.”

“You don’t know his name?” Each word is sharp as a knife, edged with disbelief.

“He’s not important.” There’s no way inhellthat I’m telling my father that I got knocked up by the New York Bratvapakhan’s brother.

“Dahlia, surely you can’t think…” My mother starts to speak, but she’s instantly silenced by my father holding up a hand, his mouth set in a thin line as he looks at me.

“This is what’s going to happen.” He enunciates each word clearly, his voice hard and completely emotionless. “We will have this…taken care of, by a doctor that we can trust to be discreet. You will not say a word about it. I will see what I can do to ensure that Jude will still marry you, and the scandal will be kept?—”

“I haven’t decided yet if I want to keep the baby or not.”

My mother’s small gasp is the only sound in the room for a moment. A vein throbs in my father’s forehead, and I can see that he’s very close to losing his patience with me. And yet…

Some part of me that I’ve never known was there before doesn’t care. This is the second time in two days I’ve stood in a living room that wasn’t mine, with a man telling me what I’m going to do with my life and the baby that I haven’t yet decided if I want or not. And out of sheer rebellion, if nothing else, I hold my ground.

It will be difficult to do this all on my own, if that’s what it comes to. All but impossible, even. But in this moment, I realize that I’d rather do that than have someone telling me how to live my life. I’d rather struggle than have golden handcuffs on, forced to fall in line to keep my father from cutting me off. I never believed or imagined that he would do this, but maybe it’s time I found out.

“You cannot be serious,” my father repeats, and my jaw clenches.

“I haven’t decided.” I tip my chin up, looking directly at him with a bravado that I don’t really feel. “But that’s a decisionI’mgoing to make.”

“Let me be very clear.” That vein is still throbbing angrily in his forehead. “If you do not accept what I’m offering you, Dahlia…if you insist on rebelling and doing thingsyour way, then everything that I told you in regards to what would happen if you refused to marry Jude will still happen. You will be cut off, not just financially, but from this family. You will be completely on your own. And now you won’t just be on your own, you will have achildto care for. For God’s sake, Dahlia, think?—”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” my mother cuts in. “She’s not really considering…”

“I am.” I swallow hard. “And I’m also done with this. I’m not marrying Jude. I’m going home. And I’m keeping this baby.”

The last is flung out in a rush of emotion, words that I’m not entirely sure that I mean. But I do mean the first part of it. I won’t be shuttled off to a doctor’s office, all of this swept under the rug and Jude bribed to marry me. I won’t be anyone’s dirty little secret, and I’m done with being told what I will, or won’t do.

I turn on my heel and stalk out of the living room, ignoring my mother’s voice as she calls after me and the roaring sound of my father shouting my name for the first time in his life.

My hands are shaking as I rush outside, walking as fast as I can in the spring chill, frantically looking for an Uber. It takes me ten minutes to get one, and I’m halfway to the airport before I realize that I left my overnight bag with several of my things, including one of my favorite pairs of jeans and half of my toiletries, at my parents’ house.

I won’t be able to afford to replace any of those, but I’m not going back now. I won’t ever be going back there again, probably.

That thought hits me like a blow. Before I can stop myself, I burst into tears—big, hiccuping sobs that have the Uber driver looking back at me in the rear view mirror with alarm. I fumble in my purse for a tissue, but it can’t keep up with the flow of tears. I’ve gone through an entire pack by the time the Uber reaches the airport.

This time, I don’t call Evelyn when I get back. I don’t have the energy to explain how it all went right now, and for the first time that I can remember, I just want to be alone. I’ve always been a social butterfly, always loved having a circle of close friends, and always wanted them close and to be close to them when things were hard. But all I want right now is the silence of my apartment.

It’s not until I try to get a coffee on the way out of the airport, before getting a ride home, that the situation hits me yet again.

Without thinking about it, I go to swipe my debit card. Not even the credit card that my father pays for—the debit card that goes to one of my two bank accounts, one of which is mine alone, and one of which is joint with my father.

The card is declined.

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