Page 61 of His Wife

“Oh, my God.” Mira gasps. “There’s two?”

My stomach turns, and a wave of nausea crashes in my chest, forcing bile up my throat. I’m off the bed and barely make it to grab the trash can, my back arching as I vomit into it. Mira rushes to my side and grabs my hair, holding it out of my face while I retch and gag. The taste is horrid, the thick stench clinging to my nostrils. It keeps on coming until my stomach is empty, the queasiness torturing me with more dry-heaving.

“Here.” Mira hands me a box of tissues, and I grab a handful, wiping my mouth. “You okay?”

“No,” I croak out. “I’m not okay.” And then this veil of emotion drops over me, tears just pouring out of me. “I’m not ready to be a mother. I can’t…I can’t be a mom. Not now. How could I be so stupid? How could I let this happen?”

“Leandra, calm down.”

“No.” I cry, sitting down on the floor, clutching the sheet, and grabbing more tissues while it feels like my entire life is three seconds away from imploding. I’m sobbing so hard I can’t catch my breath. “I can’t do this, Mira. It’s not in me. I…I have no idea what a good mother is supposed to be like. My mom was a drug addict, a selfish, narcissistic bitch who was incapable of loving her own daughter.”

“Lee—”

“And my father.” I gasp for breath between tears. “He’s a monster who wanted to groom his own daughter to become a whore so he could get more money to buy drugs. Don’t you see?” I look up through tear-filled eyes at Mira’s pained expression. “My mom and dad were both fucked up parents and human beings. It’s in my blood.”

“What?” Mira wipes a tear slipping down her cheek. “What’s in your blood?”

“To be a fucked-up parent. To be a horrible mom.”

“Dear God, no. No, Leandra.” Mira grabs my shoulders and pulls me close, trying to console me while I sob into her lilac blouse. “Just because you had shitty parents doesn’t mean you’ll be a shitty mom. Listen to me.” She leans back and wipes hair out of my face. “After everything you went through as a child, all the pain and neglect you suffered, that will only make you stronger. More determined to be the best mother you can be.”

“What if I can’t do it?” Tears lap past my lips, the saltiness of my fear spreading on my tongue. “What if I’m too damaged to raise a child?”

“You, Leandra Del Rossa, are not damaged. Do not give them that much power over you. Do not let your past and your fucked-up parents destroy what can be the most beautiful thing that’s ever happened to you. Do you understand me? They took enough from you and do not get to take this from you, too.”

“I’m scared, Mira.” My voice cracks, and my hand snakes as I wipe tears from my face. “I’m so scared.”

“I know. I’d be worried if you weren’t. This is huge. This is a big deal and a lot to take in. But you’re not alone. You won’t ever be alone in this. You have Alexius who adores you, who will do anything for you and your children.” She shrugs with a half-smile. “And you have me. When you need me, I’ll be there. And I will be the best aunt these babies could ever ask for.”

I smile through the tears.

“Oh, my God. Can you imagine the size of these kids’ wardrobes with an aunt like me?”

A snicker fills the tremor of my whimpers.

Mira gently tucks a curl behind my ear. “You and Alexius are going to hate me because I’m going to spoil these kids rotten during the day so their naughty little asses can keep the two of you up at night and make you miserable. And just so you know, I’m not cleaning poop diapers. Wiping drool is where I draw the line.”

I laugh, and she joins in, only for me to start crying again mid-laugh. “Twins. That means double poop.”

“Ah, sweaty,” she chuckles as she pulls me in for another hug, wrapping her arms around my shoulders. “Now, that’s something I’d definitely cry about.”

“Mira!”

Her hearty laughter rings in my ears, weaving a sense of calm through the whirlpool of emotions I’m struggling to keep under control. Mira has become one of the most important people in my life, and I have no idea what I would have done without her.

Leaning back, I wipe my cheeks with the back of my hand. “Thank you,” I whimper.

“Of course. You’re the sister I never had. There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you. Alexius, too. He can be an ass at the best of times, but he’s my brother. All of them are. Now, come on.” She stands and helps me to my feet. “You need to get dressed, and I need to go get you some gum or something for your vomit breath.”

“That would be great.”

Mira waves in front of her face, grimacing. “Yeah, I’ll get the extra minty flavor. I’ll wait for you in the foyer by the kiosk.”

I nod and watch her walk out, sucking in a breath when I hear the latch of the door click in place. After getting dressed, I glance at my reflection in the small, square mirror placed against the back of the door. My eyes are red and puffy, and my cheeks flushed. I look like shit and not at all like the radiant, expecting mothers who, while we waited, left the doctor’s office beaming with excitement, rubbing their growing bellies with eager palms.

My hand shakes as I place it on my stomach. It’s hard to wrap my head around it, to think that there’s life growing inside me, life Alexius and I created. I’ll have to tell him, and the thought alone terrifies me. I have no idea what to expect once I tell him, how he’ll react. Will he blame me? Will he see this pregnancy as an inconvenience rather than a blessing? God, I don’t know. And I have no idea how or when I’ll have the courage to tell him.

I pull on my jacket and flick my hair from under the collar, squaring my shoulders before walking out. I’m trying not to look at all the expectant mothers as I wait at reception to schedule my next appointment. Looking at the joy on their faces only makes me feel guilty for not experiencing the same excitement.

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