Page 71 of Nine Months to Love
It’s not a happy laugh. It’s calculating. Triumphant.
“Oh, how wonderful, darling! I can’t believe you actually did this. Now, he’s truly in it with you. No getting out now.”
My stomach plummets to the ocean below. “What?”
“You’ve locked him down. A baby is the ultimate commitment, especially for a man like him. He’ll have to stay involved, keep supporting your career. This is brilliant.”
Horror blossoms low in my gut. “That’s not... I didn’t do this to trap him.”
“Of course not. But it doesn’t matter why you did it. What matters is the result.” Her voice is warm, approving, and it makes me want to throw up every bite of croissant I took. “You’re set now, Olivia. The partnership, the baby, Stefan. Everything’s falling into place.”
“I have to go.”
“Wait, we should discuss?—”
I end the call.
My hands are shaking. My mother’s words echo in my head, each one a little knife carving me into pieces.
You’ve locked him down.
No getting out now.
Is that what she thinks? That I got pregnant on purpose? That this whole thing is some elaborate scheme to trap a billionaire?
Stefan didn’t react like that. I thought he’d either be pissed or grimly triumphant. But it was more… What even was it? Pure?
He didn’t think I trapped him. He was happy.
Wasn’t he?
God, I can’t think straight. I need to move. To do something, anything. The ocean looks inviting, cool and blue and endless. Before I can second-guess just what the hell I’m doing, I strip down to my underwear, climb over the yacht’s railing, and leap.
The water is cold when I hit it. Shockingly cold. But it feels good, feels like it’s washing away my mother’s voice, Stefan’s anger, my own stupid mistakes. It’s like a baptism and I’m being born again with none of the baggage that has dogged me throughout this life.
I float on my back and stare at the sky. Clouds drift past, lazy and unbothered by human drama. I don’t know how long I watch them. Long enough that I start to forget all the little things.
My work first.
Then my family.
Then Stefan.
Then little bits of me start to sail away, too. I forget my name. The sound of my own voice. I let myself melt into the ocean, and I’ve never felt freer.
The waves rock me gently at first. Then less gently. When I finally drag myself back to the present, I realize I’ve actually ended up kinda far away from the yacht. And I’m starting to notice there’s a tide, a rip current, a bit of a nasty one, and it’s accelerating me farther and farther away.
The waves get rougher. One crashes over my face and I sputter, swallowing salt water. Another one follows, then another.
I try to swim back toward the yacht, but the current is stronger than I expected. My arms burn. My legs feel heavy.
All the peace of a moment ago is gone. This was stupid. So, so stupid. This was?—
Another wave smacks me in the eyes and I’m blinded. The current wraps a hand around my ankle and tugs me down and I go screaming below the surface. The scream gets me a lungful of salt water, and I’m thrashing, it’s cold and it stings, I’m drowning, I’m sinking into the blue, it hurts, it all hurts,my baby, my baby!,more hands grabbing me, more ocean hands, pulling me down, down, down, more hands, more, more, then?—
Wait. That’s not the imaginary hand of a rip current yanking me to the sea floor. That’s a real hand.
“What the fuck are you doing?”
