Page 87 of The Alpha's Crimson Vow

The thought fills me with so much light I feel like I might float right off the ground. I press my lips together, taking a moment to collect myself before heading back out.

I walk through the restaurant, my body humming with barely contained excitement. I try to be composed, but the moment I slide back into my seat across from Alice, I can’t help it—

I smile.

Alice eyes me, her fingers curled around the stem of her glass, and I can tell she already knows.

“Well,” I say, my voice light, a little breathless, “looks like I’m going to be a mom.”

For a second, Alice’s expression flickers. Just a brief, almost imperceptible moment where her eyes widen, something like shock flashing across her face. Then something else—something more guarded. A hint of hesitation, the faintest shadow of worry.

It’s gone so fast I almost think I imagined it.

Still, before I can even open my mouth to ask, Alice smiles—a small, careful smile—and reaches across the table, her fingers closing around mine. “Congratulations, Katherine.”

Her voice is soft. Sincere. But I can’t shake the feeling that there’s something else lingering behind it. I return her smile though, choosing to focus on the moment. This is huge. This is life-changing. And right now, I just want to feel it.

For a beat, neither of us speak. Alice looks down at our joined hands, her thumb grazing the back of mine like she’s considering something carefully. Then she exhales, meeting my gaze.

“You’ve only been with Alex in the last few months?” she asks gently. “No one else?”

I blink, slightly taken aback by the question. “Yeah,” I say slowly. “No one else.”

Alice nods, the corners of her lips curving into another smile. But I see it again—that something in her eyes. It’s subtle, buried beneath the surface, but it’s there. A hesitation. A thought she isn’t saying aloud.

I open my mouth, about to ask, but before I can, she speaks first. “So,” she says, tilting her head, her tone changing slightly, “when are you going to tell him?”

Just like that, the excitement bubbling inside me stalls.

My mind yanks me back to last night. To the way we laid tangled in each other’s arms under the trees, his fingers trailing gently over my skin. To the moment when I told him, without even really thinking, that I had always wanted children. That I wanted to give my kids the kind of love and attention my parents never gave me.

I remember how natural the words felt coming out of my mouth. How warm and certain I felt just saying them. And then, I remember his silence.

No agreement. No soft words of shared dreams. Just silence.

I felt it then, the way his body tensed ever so slightly, the way his touch hesitated for half a second before he continued stroking my skin like nothing had happened.

Like he didn’t want to talk about it. Like he didn’t want children.

A heavy feeling settles in my chest.

What if he doesn’t want this? What if I tell him, and instead of joy, I see dread in his eyes?

A knot tightens in my stomach, my fingers twitching against the table.

“I…” I swallow, glancing down at my drink. “I think I’ll wait a little before telling him.”

Alice tilts her head, watching me closely. “Why?”

I force a small smile, but my heart feels unsteady. “I just… want to be sure of a few things first.”

Alice doesn’t push. She just nods, but I can feel her curiosity. Still, I don’t say more. Because for the first time since I saw those two pink lines, doubt creeps in.

The rest of lunch with Alice passes in a blur. I can barely focus on what we talk about, my mind running in circles around the little stick that has changed everything. By the time we leave the restaurant, stepping out into the warm afternoon sun, all I can think about is that I have to find out how Alex feels about children before I tell him.

I try not to let it weigh on me too much as I go home and get ready for tonight. I’m having a birthday dinner with Alex tonight. It feels more than a night out to celebrate my birthday, it feels like it’s also a reunion. It’s the first date we are having since that dreadful day that he left.

But even as I curl my hair and clasp my pearl necklace in place, the weight of the question hangs over me: How do I ask without making it obvious?

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