Page 20 of Amor Prohibido

With a pissed off growl, I plonked down beside Callie and thanked her softly when she passed my coffee over. Mum breezed into the room carrying a platter of pre-lunch snacks, as if the air wasn’t thick with tension.

“Here you go, sweethearts. Food to tide you over until lunch. It’s hungry work being out partying all night.”

“Well, some of us were. Jace came home early.” Darren stated before popping a mini cheese and ham muffin into his mouth.

“Oh, no, hon,” Mum gushed. “He didn’t get home until a few hours ago. And before you ask, no I didn’t inquire about where he stayed.”

“Mum!”I exclaimed, mortified that she was so casually implying that I’d had a one-night stand. Albeit true, it wasn’t the point.

Her blue eyes lifted to meet mine. “Don’tmumme; I wasn’t born yesterday.”

I shook my head, then ran my hand over it. “Some things are better left unsaid and not insinuated.”

She waved off my comment and continued to offer the platter around with a warm smile on her face. Leaving all of us with food in our hands, she set the tray down and breezed from the room again, muttering about checking on lunch for the hundredth time.

“So…” Darren broke the silence. “Where’d you stay?”

“At a friend’s place,” I answered gruffly. “And no, you don’t know her.”

His brow pitched in interest. “Her, huh?”

I willed myself to not look in Jax’s direction and held Darren’s gaze. “Yeah,her.And that’s all you’re getting.”

Darren lowered himself into the armchair across the room and snickered. “You’re not even back in town for twenty-four hours and you’ve already got your hookups sorted. No rest for the wicked.”

I flipped him off and took a long sip of coffee. It pitched and rolled in my stomach along with the unease of having this conversation in front of Jax. I’d already enraged her enough without adding this fuel to her ever-raging fire.

When the coast was clear, I stole a quick peek her way. Her usually caramel complexion was at least five shades paler until she caught me looking. Then, and only then, did it darken to ten shades ofoh shit.

SEVEN

JAX

3 weeks later.

Thank God Lozza was away because this stomach bug was kicking my ass. I’d been vomiting for three days straight and anything that passed my lips would come back up mere minutes later. Each time I thought I was okay; I’d eat something, only to have my stomach churn and reject it all over again.

Lying in my bed, feeling about as amazing as the ass end of a warthog, I begrudgingly crunched on ice cubes since they were the only thing I could keep down. Groaning and wholeheartedly feeling sorry for myself, I rolled slowly to curl on my side only to gasp and freeze with pain when I bumped my boob. My nipple stung like a bitch.

I paused and reasoned with myself. I was simply over-thinking it because I wasn’t feeling great. But as nausea rolled again and simply touching my breasts created another bolt of searing pain, evil little “what ifs” began to claw their way into my head.

Unable to shake off the gnawing dread, I dragged myself from bed and shuffled into the bathroom. I dug through the under-sink cupboard for the stash of pregnancy tests me and Lozza kept for “emergencies.”

Peeing on the stick was the easiest part. The following minutes were excruciating. My hands trembled as I picked up the face-down test and pep-talked myself into checking the result. Psyching myself up by counting to three, I flipped the test over on three, and my heart plummeted.

“¡Mierda!”

I panted through another wave of nausea and grimaced while swallowing down the rising bile. It wasnotthe answer I was hoping for. There, in the tiny window, an obnoxiously bright, pink plus sign was already visible.

No. It must be a mistake. I couldn’t be. I can’t be…That mantra circulated on repeat while I tried to force myself to think rationally through the nausea.

Maybe it was a false positive.

On that flicker of optimism, I rushed to unwrap another test despite knowing in my heart-of-hearts that the truth had already been revealed.

* * *

I sat in the retro armchair across from Mama and Papi and fought through the apprehension tightening my throat. I’d dug so far under my thumbnail with my opposite forefinger that it hurt like a bitch. But I refused to get to my feet and dash for the door like every cell in my body urged me to do. Out of the fight-or-flight reflexes, I was definitely gifted the former, but right now, all I wanted to do was bolt. When faced with a serious situation, or one that made me insecure, I was also gifted with the fucked-up reaction of wanting to laugh hysterically.

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