Page 42 of Dirty Dillon

“It’s okay if he stays,” I tell her. “I’d rather have him here.”

She smiles. “All right, if you’re sure. I have the results of your labs. I don’t think you’ll have any lasting damage, though we’d like to keep you overnight for observation. Your cuts and scrapes are superficial, thankfully. The smoke inhalation from the fire is our biggest concern.”

“Thank you, Doctor,” I say, my voice still weak but brimming with relief. Dillon squeezes my hand reassuringly.

“However,” the doctor hesitates, raising her eyes from her tablet to meet mine, “there’s something else you need to know...one of the blood tests showed positive.”

“What? COVID?”

“No, Ms. Hamilton. Not COVID. Pregnant.”

My heart stops, frozen in time as the words echo through the room. Pregnant? How can this be?

“Are you sure? I’m on the pill.” I ask, my voice barely more than a whisper, while my insides twist into knots.

“Nothing is 100% effective, and you are pregnant,” the doctor confirms, her tone gentle yet matter-of-fact.

“I was supposed to start my period two days ago, but I’ve had some stress lately, so I didn’t even think about it.”

Dillon’s grip on my hand tightens, his eyes searching mine for a reaction. A million thoughts collide inside my head. We’ve only been together for such a short time. I’m not ready to be somebody’s mother. But a baby. Wow.

The doctor continues to speak, her words fading into the background as I try to process this new information. A baby. With Dillon. The thought sends a thrill through my body, but also a sense of fear. I’m not ready for this. I’m not sure if I ever will be.

“Sweetheart,” he murmurs, his eyes filled with concern. “How do you feel about this?”

“I don’t know. Wait. How do you feel about this?” My eyes are searching his when the doctor makes her polite exit.

“Cressida, it’s your body. You get to decide how you feel first.”

I swallow hard, trying to sort through the chaotic emotions swirling within me. Fear. Joy. Uncertainty. But one feeling rises above the rest: desire. The thought of carrying Dillon’s child, our love manifesting in the most intimate and primal way...

“Surprised,” I admit, “but... excited. This is our baby, Dillon, and I want to raise it with you. If, um, you want to, that is. Otherwise, I mean, I guess I’ll do it alone. I know this is sudden.”

He places one hand gently on my abdomen. “Of course I want to. But are you sure?” he asks. “I know this changes everything.”

I exhale, feeling the weight of the world lift slightly from my shoulders. Dillon’s hand on my belly feels right, feels like the beginning of something new and beautiful. “I’m sure,” I say. “I mean, as sure as I can be right now. But I want this, Dillon. I want you to be the father of my child.”

Dillon’s eyes light up with emotion, and he leans down to place a tender kiss on my lips. “I want that, too, Cressida,” he says, his voice husky with desire. “I want to love you and our baby, to protect and provide for you both. And I want to make sure you feel loved and desired every step of the way.”

My heart swells with warmth and affection as I realize the depth of Dillon’s commitment.

“Thankfully, they make super cute maternity outfits now. There’s this influencer I follow who’s about six months along. She never looked cuter.”

The corners of his mouth twitch upward, relief washing over his chiseled features. “I’ll make sure you have all the cute maternity outfits you want,” Dillon says, his voice deep and full of promise.

“Dillon?”

“Yeah, baby?”

“I think we need to have my father arrested.”

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