Page 124 of Ordinary Secrets

She blinks up at me with her long black lashes. Before I can take another breath, she crashes her lips against mine, stealing all the air from my lungs.

37

ARELLA

“Arella, get up.”Trey shakes me awake.

I jerk out of my slumber. “Huh? Where’s the fire?”

“No fire. I just need to talk to you.” The panic in his tone lurches me upright.

He flips the bedroom lights on, making my eyes burn. I sit up, rub my eyes, then squint to see him. He’s got an expression on his face like he just witnessed someone jump off a skyscraper.

“Is everything okay?”

“Not really.” His voice sounds deep and husky.

I’m still naked from our before-bed activities. Trey has finally stopped treating me like I’m made of porcelain, and he’s gone back to being rough. Earlier, I was so exhausted from how good it was, I couldn’t even get up to get dressed. Instead, he wiped me off with a wet towel and I passed out.

“What time is it?” I ask.

“Two thirty-ish.”

In the morning?

Trey climbs into bed and sits an arm’s length away. He doesn’t usually sit that far from me. “I have a question to ask you, and I can’t wait until the morning for an answer.”

“Okay?” What could possibly be this urgent?

“Is there anything you’re hiding from me?”

I freeze with the blanket held to my chest. There’s only one thing I’ve been hiding from him, but how could he know? I haven’t told anyone, not even Javina. Did his weird intuitive sixth sense tell him?

I play dumb. “What’re you talking about?”

“Just answer the question.”

“I... um, I dunno what you’re talking about.”

“This! I’m talking about this!” From his back pocket, he yanks out some folded papers and tosses them onto the sheets between us. I recognize them immediately.

My eyes go wide. “Where did you get those?”

“From your purse.”

“What were you doing in my purse?”

“I was cleaning the kitchen. Your purse fell onto the floor, and all your shit spilled out—including these.” He points a hard finger at the pregnancy brochures I got when I stopped into the doctor’s office to take a test. “Just tell me it’s nothing and that I’m freaking out for no reason.”

I lower my head because this reaction is exactly what I was afraid of. Three nights ago, when I told him that I think we have too much sex, I didn’t mean it. We have the perfect amount of sex. That night, I wanted to be alone because I was panicking for other reasons—reasons I’ve been keeping from him because there hasn’t been a good time to tell him.

At least, that’s the lie I’ve been telling myself. Really, I’m just scared. What will he say? How will he react? Will he take it better than I did? It’s been three days, and I’m still trying to process it. How long will it take him?

When that test came back positive, my first fear was that he’s not ready to be a father and that he doesn’t want to be yet. Right now, he’s validating that fear.

My voice comes out soft and breathy. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know how to tell you.”

“No!” He shoots off the bed and paces the floor. “No! No! No!”

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