Page 48 of Accidental Groom
That part doesn’t terrify me — I’ve done it once, I can do it again if that’s what we’re dealing with. It’s strange to thinkabout, though. Bringing another child into the world when the first one turned into a selfish, fleeting ghost I barely recognize feels like I’d be doing the world a disservice. I raised George the best I could. I gave him everything. Maybe that was the mistake.
Maybe, for me, loving something only ever breeds ruin.
Frasier clears his throat in the doorway. “Test is done.”
Elena sits up, the blankets pooling at her waist. “Well?”
He tucks his tablet into the crook of his arm and tosses the little test onto the bed for her. “You’re pregnant,” he says, his voice dry. “Based on your last period, you’re technically somewhere around five weeks to six weeks.”
The world tips on its axis.Shit.
Elena goes very, very still as she stares down at the test.
“You’ll need to get that implant out,” he says casually. “It isn’t exactly harmful, but it’s not recommended to keep it in.”
She presses a shaking hand to her stomach, then the other. Her mouth moves, but no sound comes out.
I scrub at my chin, forcing my own shaking hand to calm as much as I can. “What do we?—”
“I’ll order some prenatal vitamins and send Mary by later with some supplements,” Frasier says, cutting me off, his tone almost bored as if he either has no clue that this was not in the cards or simply doesn’t care enough about it. “No skipping meals. No alcohol. Watch your hydration and temperature, and I’d suggest avoiding high stress, if possible. Though given who you’re married to?—”
“I think that’s enough,” I say, forcing myself to my feet to step between them. “Let her process it before filling her head with nonsense.”
He hesitates, but takes a step back. “Of course.”
He grabs his bag from the bed, giving Elena a thin smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. I don’t look back before leading him out of her room, walking him down the stairs in stifling silence.
When he reaches the door to the cottage, he pauses, turning to me.
“Geraldine would be rolling in her grave.”
My jaw ticks, my teeth clenching hard enough that I worry I might crack one. “Get the fuck off my property.”
He leaves without another word. I wait by the door until I get the notification that the front gate has shut behind his car.
Then I go to her.
She hasn’t moved — her hands still cradle her stomach, her eyes wide with a mixture of awe and terror, staring down at the blood test sitting on the bed. Her lower lip quivers as I step toward the bed.
“Elena,” I say gently, slowly lowering myself to sit in front of her.
A single tear slips free, and she shuts her eyes forcefully, her head bowing. “I didn’t know,” she whispers.
“I know.” My hand finds hers, carefully prying the test from her rigid grasp before depositing it on the nightstand instead. “I’m not angry.”
“I just—I thought I missed it because I was… you know,” she sniffles, waving her hand around as if to gesture toeverything. “My whole life went off a cliff.”
“A completely fair assumption, given the circumstances,” I say.
She lifts her head again, wiping her nose with the back of her wrist, her hand trembling violently. Her eyes open, looking to the ceiling, still avoiding my gaze. “I don’t know what to do,” she murmurs, her voice cracking. “I didn’t plan for this.”
“Neither did I.” I wrap my fingers around her palm, trying to steady her.
A choked little sob breaks from her, and something in my chestlurches. I’ve seen her angry, seen her defiant — but god, I’ve never seen her broken.
She looksscared.
“This is real,” she says, the words so quiet I almost don’t catch them.
