'Do you feel any pain?' As I've turned to jelly, Cyrus seems to be steeling up. He's lifted himself so that our positions are now reversed; me lying flat and him on his side. His eyes are focused, his hand strong on my shoulder and then soothing as he rubs my back. 'You went to the bathroom earlier—did you have any bleeding? Hey,'—I've curled up tight, fear making me defensive of my belly—'Hey,' he says again. 'Come here… come on…'
Closing my eyes, I feel myself pulled into a protective embrace. Sitting up against the headboard, Cyrus cradles me like an infant. The tenderness in his touch only has me falling apart all the faster.
Refusing to break down and cry, I, instead, turn into Cyrus's chest, take a handful of his sweater and scream into the woolen weave. I take all of that stress, like a black smoggy cloud in my chest and expel it as hard as I can, just like in Lily-Anne's bathroom weeks ago. My cry is muffled by cloth but it's still a low roar in the room. I keep yelling even after my breath fails and my lungs spasm and the cry is strangled into a pathetic mewl. Eventually, it all fades into nothing, taking my panic with it.
Instead of thinking me a lunatic, Cyrus brushes a hand through my hair. He holds me close, his lips by my temple and a smile in his voice.
'Feel better?' he asks.
'Yeah…' I exhale the word. 'And you're right. No pain, no bleeding. Everything is probably fine.' Only then do I blink in realization. 'Wait, how do you know about this stuff?'
I twist in his lap to look up at him and am shocked to see a smidge of color riding Cyrus's cheekbones.
'I may have Googled on my way back from dumping Ramirez.' He coughs awkwardly.
I can't restrain my grin of amusement. Cyrus fails to meet my eye but is also sporting a curl to his lips. The moment passes too quickly as Cyrus falls back on his He-Man efficiency mode.
'Look,' he says, trying to be practical. 'In the end, it's your decision but my thoughts, if you want them, are that unless you feel anything is wrong, we wait and get you checked by a doctor back in Rome. If we try and see someone here, we'll never be able to keep it a secret from Felix and I don't like the idea of him having any more leverage over us than he does already.'
I consider where he's coming from and recognize the additional risk. And for what? For a little peace of mind?
Eventually, I nod.
'All right, I think that's a workable plan—Crap! Lana knows!' I grimace. 'Do you think she'll tell her cousin?'
Cyrus's hand has moved to the back of my neck. His fingers work at a knot of tension along my nape. I'm reminded of my hands on him yesterday, soothing him after hours bent over a desk. I barely smother the moan his touch is building in my chest.
'On that count,' Cyrus muses. 'We might actually be able to rely on female solidarity. Felix certainly didn't know about it on the boat.'
The boat!
I've been so caught up in the fact that Cyrus had survived his meeting with Caruso that any other outcome had failed to register.
Way to think productively, soldier.
'What happened out there? What did Felix do?'
Cyrus sighs and falls sideways. He takes me with him to the bedspread and we lay together. We're fully dressed and neither of us are aroused… and yet it feels like the most intimate embrace we've ever shared. Both of us emotionally raw, with secrets exposed and parenthood in our future.
Whilst a thousand questions still swirl in the air around us, it's the first time I've felt like we're in this together. I press my ear to the reassuring thump-thump of Cyrus's heart.
'He blustered, threatened, and made demands above my head.' Cyrus recounts. 'I've passed the information on to Jaime and he'll get back to me with my next move.'
'Jaime?' I ask, curious.
'My contact with the Machellis.'
'The Machellis?'
'My real clients,' he explains.
'Wow, it's all coming out now, huh?' I giggle.
Cyrus's arms tighten around me.
'I told you,' he says. 'Honesty from here on out. You ask, I tell.'
'And you're good with that?' I ask in amazement. 'Just like that?'