Page 54 of His Wife

“Mira,” I start, panic slowly bubbling to the surface, causing my eyes to tear up. “I can’t be pregnant. This can’t happen right now.”

She gets up, her heeled boots clicking across the floor as she walks up to me. “Okay, before we start freaking out—”

“We?”

“You. Before you freak out, let’s just make sure. Once we see two little pink lines, then we can freak out.”

“Again, we?”

“Yes, we. Of course, we. If you freak out, I freak out. It’s what best friends do.” She places a palm on her forehead, her cheeks flushed, but I’m standing there staring at her and having this huge‘aaaaaw’moment because I’ve never had a best friend. And it’s kind of sad, if you think about it, since I’m a grown-ass woman.

“Best friends?” I smile.

She glances at me, her lips curving into a smile when she sees me grinning like an idiot. “No,” she starts, then pulls me in for a hug. “Sisters.”

“This is probably one of those moments when there’s so much stuff happening all at once, and it only takes something really, really small to get the waterworks going.” I sniff, tears slipping down my cheeks. “But hearing you say that isn’t something really, really small—even though it’s not quite as big as the possibility of me being pregnant, but—”

“Leandra.” Mira pulls back to look at me. “You’re rambling, but I’m going to chalk it up to nerves and the fact that you’re probably dangling off the cliff of hysteria right now. So, let’s get that pregnancy test.” She grabs my hand and leads me out of the bathroom. “I need to know if I’ll be drinking alone tonight or not.”

Four hours later, we’re sitting on my bed staring at three pregnancy tests, all showing two pink lines. There are no faint or light pink second lines that make you squint in order to see it. No. It’s all very pink. Very bold. Very fucking visible, as if the test itself is screaming at me, ‘You’re fucking pregnant!’

Mira starts drinking her second glass of wine. “Well, shit.”

“Yeah.”

“I did not want to drink alone tonight.”

“And I really need a drink right now.” I pull a palm down my face and mutter, “Fuck,” as I slide off the bed and start pacing. I’m trying to think, but it’s impossible to sort through the maze of thoughts that eventually lead to the same thing. I’m pregnant.

I am. Pregnant.

I’m going to have a baby. Alexius’ baby.

I freeze, staring at the floors but seeing nothing at all. “I’m going to have a baby,” I murmur. “I’m going to have a baby.”

“Yeah.” Mira points at the three tests. “Evidently so.”

“What am I going to do? What am I going to tell Alexius?”

Mira gets on her feet, grabs the bottle of wine, and tops up her glass. “Well, it’s really quite simple. You’re going to tell Alexius that you’re pregnant. He may or may not freak the fuck out, but after the initial shock wears off, we’re all going to be very excited, and by Christmas next year, Santa Claus will be visiting the estate for the first time in, like,” she shrugs, pursing her lips, “ten, eleven years?”

“Oh, my God.” I fall onto the bed, burying my face between the pillows. “Alexius is going to hate me.”

“Wait. What?”

I lift my head and brush the hair out of my face. “He’s going to hate me.”

“Why would he hate you?”

“Because I’m pregnant.”

“Excuse me?” Mira places a hand on her hip, her eyebrows almost touching her hairline. “Did you make this baby alone?”

“No.”

“Were you the only one who enjoyed the sex?”

“No.” I scoot up.

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