Page 53 of His Wife

“Sure. Anything.” Her forehead is creased with concern as she studies me. “What’s going on?”

My nervous fingers travel to the back of my neck. “You have to swear to me you won’t tell a soul.”

“Jesus, Leandra.” She inches closer, her eyes narrowed. “What’s going on?”

“Promise me, Mira.”

“Yes, of course. I promise. What is it?”

I brush past her, crossing my arms as if hugging myself is possible. “I, um…” I turn back but don’t look at her as I struggle to form one simple sentence.

“Spit it out,” Mira urges, and I finally gather the courage to look her in the eye.

“I need you to get something for me without anyone knowing.”

Mira’s green eyes widen, her cheeks suddenly pale, contrasting with her blood-red lips. “Are you on drugs?”

“What?”

“Because if you are, I can’t help you there. I once tried to get some ecstasy into the house, and it got hand delivered by my brother. And I mean it literally when I say hand-delivered. The pills were still in the dealer’s hand…the hand my brother cut off.” She shrugs like something just slithered over her grave, and my stomach turns with the visual. “God, it was so disgusting. I threw up all over Maximo and that fucking severed hand. All bloody, and it was this ghastly color, while the fingers were so…so stiff, like they’d been frozen. Not to mention the smell. My God, it was horrid.” She gags…and I run for the bathroom, making it just in time to avoid cleaning vomit off the marble floors.

Mira comes rushing in while I’m hunched over the toilet, heaving out the fruit and granola parfait I had for breakfast.

“Are you okay?” She looks at me with a mixture of worry and pity.

“No,” I answer truthfully, sitting down on my ass, clutching the toilet bowl.

“What’s wro—” She gasps. “Oh, my God, you’re pregnant.”

I frown up at her. “I throw up, and your first guess is I’m pregnant? Maybe the berries in the parfait weren’t fresh. Or maybe I have a bug. Or maybe it’s the visual of the severed hand that has me hanging over the damn toilet.”

“Nope. Nah-ah.” Mira crosses her arms, staring down at the mess I am on the floor. “You’ve been glowing lately.”

I frown. “Glowing? I’m throwing up, for God’s sake.”

“Still, you’ve had this glow,” she waves her hand in front of me, “ever since you came back from Rome. I just thought it was because you’re ridiculously happy and getting the crap fucked out of you every goddamn night. But now.” She pauses like she’s taking a moment for it all to sink in. “You’re pregnant…aren’t you?”

I wipe my mouth with some toilet paper before flushing and pulling myself off the floor, reaching for the mouthwash and gargling like my life depends on it. Once the rancid, gall-bitter taste is out of my mouth, I turn to face Mira, who is still staring at me—eyes wide and red lips parted.

I take a few breaths, leaning back against the bathroom sink. “That’s what I need your help with. I need to get a pregnancy test without anyone knowing.”

“Alexius doesn’t know?”

I shake my head, placing my hand in front of my mouth, still trying to catch my breath. “And I don’t want to tell him unless I’m sure.”

Mira sits on the bathtub's edge, clutching the rim and tapping her French-manicured nails against the porcelain. “I hate to sound like a mother right now, but you two haven’t been…you know, safe?”

“We have. I have.” I start pacing. “I’m on birth control, have been for years.”

Mira scowls. “But Alexius was your first?”

“Yes. He was.” I still in front of her. “You don’t live in a neighborhood I grew up in as a teenager without being on birth control.” I glance over her shoulders, staring into nothing. “The last thing you want is to be pregnant after you—”

“I get it,” Mira interrupts. It’s probably just as hard for her to hear as it is for me to say. “How late are you?”

“Late.” I breathe out. “Really late.”

“Fuck,” she curses, hanging her head with a curtain of blonde hair flowing down the sides of her face before looking back up. “Well, at least you’re married. So, there’s that silver lining.”

---