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“She sure will! Althea doesn’t play!” she teased, trying to make her laugh.
It didn’t work. Genevieve’s face was long and her disposition reeked of despair.
Rap music filled the air, drawing Demi’s gaze to her desk. She knew from the Cardi B ringtone that it was Chase on the line. She made a mental note to call him back and hoped he wouldn’t be in a meeting when she did.
It had been two weeks since the Hamptons Women’s Society’s Annual Tea, but it felt like months had passed since her showdown with Mrs. Crawford at the Maidstone Club. These days, she practically lived at Chase’s estate and loved discovering new things about her boyfriend. Confiding in him about the pain of her past relationship had brought them even closer together. And every time he kissed her, they ended up making love—on the couch, in the shower, on his office desk. Demi couldn’t get enough of him, and just thinking about his gentle caress aroused her.
“I—I—I changed my mind,” Geneviève stammered. “I can’t do this.”
“You can and you will.” Demi bent down, grabbed another test out of the container and tapped it against
the box Geneviève was holding in her hands. “Come on. We’ll do it together.”
Fine lines creased her sister’s forehead. “Why? Are you late, too?”
“Girl, please, I’m always late,” she said with a laugh. “My hormones have been out of whack for years, but that’s another story.”
“Really? Why didn’t you say anything? I could have referred you to my doctor. She’s—”
“Quit stalling. I want to know if I’ll be an auntie later this year, so go take the test.”
Geneviève opened the bedroom door and Esmerelda fell inside. Scrambling to her feet, she followed Geneviève down the hallway, talking a mile a minute. Demi went into her master en suite, took the test and stuck the applicator in the back pocket of her blue skinny jeans.
Returning to the office seconds later, she swiped her cell off the desk and typed in her password. Glad she was alone, she listened to Chase’s voice-mail message and laughed out loud. Yesterday she’d taken homemade cookies to the Mobile Entertainment office and twenty-four hours later he was still raving about them. He wanted them to have lunch at his office, but Demi read between the lines. Food wasn’t on his mind, but Demi loved the idea of seeing Chase in the middle of the workday and decided to accept his invitation.
Someone shrieked and Demi raced out of the office. She found Geneviève and Esmeralda in the hallway, hugging and laughing. She smiled. Esmerelda was holding her beloved iPhone, pointing it at Geneviève’s face, and Demi suspected her girlfriend was still live streaming.
“I really wanted to be an aunt,” Demi teased. “But something tells me you’re not pregnant.”
“No, thank God!” Geneviève wiped imaginary sweat from her brow. “What a relief.”
Demi kissed her cheek. “See? You were worried for nothing.”
Esmerelda plucked the test applicator out of Demi’s back pocket and raised it in the air. “But you should be. Chiquita, you’re pregnant!”
“Yeah, right,” Demi scoffed, sticking out her tongue. “And Rihanna’s my first cousin.”
Geneviève stared at the test then cupped a hand over her mouth. “OMG, you’re preggo!”
“Look at it.” Esmerelda stuck the test in Demi’s face and pointed at the screen. “It says ‘pregnant’ on it. You’re going to be a mommy...”
A warm sensation flowed through Demi’s body and fear knotted inside her chest. The hallway flipped upside down and her vision blurred, swimming in and out of focus. The word “pregnant” echoed in her thoughts and blared in her ears. Demi tried to move but her legs buckled beneath her and the world went black.
* * *
Chase punched the gas pedal with his foot, made a sharp right turn at the intersection, then sped toward the condominium at the end of the tree-lined block.
He’d been in his office, fixing a bug in a program that was wreaking havoc on a zombie-themed game app, when Katia burst into the room, clutching her iPhone to her chest. He’d known by the somber expression on her face that something was wrong. She’d approached his desk, tapped a finger on her cell phone then showed him the screen. Abandoning his work, he’d watched the scene unfold between Demi and Geneviève, but felt uneasy listening to their intimate conversation. He’d started to tell Katia to turn it off but the words died on his lips when a female voice off-screen told Demi she was pregnant. And when he’d seen her slump to the floor, he’d jumped to his feet and raced out the door.
Chase slammed on his breaks and waited for the uniform-clad students to cross the street. He didn’t remember leaving the office or climbing into his Maserati, but he knew he’d broken a dozen traffic rules in his haste to reach Demi’s condo.
Gripping the steering wheel, he saw the veins in his hands tighten, felt them throb in pain. Like his mind, his heart was racing. Demi was pregnant? By whom? For weeks they’d been inseparable and last night in bed she’d said “I love you” with such passion and conviction he’d believed her wholeheartedly. And now this.
Chase parked behind Demi’s sports car then jogged up the walkway. Standing on her welcome mat, he pounded on the front door with his fists. Pressing his hands against the window, he peered into the living room and spotted a female silhouette.
The door creaked open and Geneviève peeked outside. Surprise flashed in her eyes. “Chase! Hey. What are you doing here?”
“I need to see Demi.”
