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“Now, Yvette.”
“I won’t forget this,” Yvette hisses in Ana’s direction as she leaves, but shedoesleave, the door slamming behind her as she goes. Alexandre waits for her footsteps to recede down the hall, and then he holds out the box to Ana.
“There are no more excuses,petit,” he says. “Take the test.”
Ana looks up at me sorrowfully, but we both also know that there are no more excuses either of us can make. Alexandre is motionless, his hand outstretched. When a beat passes and then another without him flinching or moving away, she finally grabs it out of his hand, her fingers tightening around the box as she takes a deep breath.
“Fine,” she whispers. “We’ll do it your way.”
“I am glad you see reason,petit.” Alexandre steps back, setting the bag of remaining tests on the nightstand next to the bed. “Soon, we will all have answers.”
FIFTEEN
ANA
Answers, indeed.
Some time later, I’m staring at a row of ten pregnancy tests lined up on the luxurious bathroom counter, their flimsy plastic in stark contrast to the dark grey granite of the countertop. All but one has the same result—two pink lines or a plus sign showing in the tiny window.
Positive. All but one has a line and then the faintest glimmer of pink next to it, so light that it’s impossible to tell if it’s an actual second line or just a mirage. Still, I cling to that fragile thread of hope, even as Alexandre holds out the last box insistently.
“Two more,petit.”
“Just—give me a minute.” I press my fingers to my temples. “I don’t have to pee again yet.”
“Get her more water.” Liam is nearly as anxious as Alexandre now, hovering near me and looking over my shoulder at the row of tests.
“Just, please—” I press my hand to my mouth, trying to breathe. Trying not to panic. Alexandre slips out of the bathroom, and it gives me the briefest moment alone with Liam as I stand there, looking at all the evidence that I am, in fact, pregnant. “I can’t do this,” I whisper. “I can’t be pregnant, Liam. I just can’t. I don’t know if I can be a mother, if I would evenbea good mother—”
“Shh.” Liam drops a kiss on the top of my head, his hand resting comfortingly on my lower back for a brief moment. “You’ll be a fine mother, Ana, if that’s what you want. You have choices in this, and I’m not going to take them away from you. But first, we need to deal with Alexandre. Let’s figure this out first, and then we’ll discuss the baby.”
“Ifthere’s a baby. Maybe they’re defective, maybe—” I’m hoping the last two will show clearly negative, to sow real, definite doubt.Ninepregnancy tests out of ten can’t be wrong, but maybe out of twelve—
That would be enough doubt to push off any real answer until I could see a doctor, at least. I could insist that I want to go back to Manhattan to seemydoctor. Liam could come with me, even. Anything to get away from Alexandre while we sort this out.
Alexandre brings me the water bottle, the top already unscrewed, and Liam’s hand leaves my back instantly. I miss his touch as soon as it’s gone. I know we can’t afford to antagonize Alexandre more than he already is. Still, at the same time, I want so badly to show Alexandre how things have changed, that I’m not the girl who was in Paris with him, that this can’t work anymore.
Two more tests.
I half expect the men to insist on waiting in the bathroom while I pee, but thankfully they at least give me privacy for that. It’s a few minutes alone to gather my emotions and thoughts until both plastic sticks join the other ten on the counter, and we wait for the displays to change. Behind me, I can feel how agitated both men are, and it makes me feel sick to my stomach.
Or maybe it’s the baby doing that.
The wait feels agonizing. I stare at the little windows, praying that as one pink line develops in each that there won’t be another. But sure enough, a second starts to clearly show in both, and I feel tears swimming in my eyes, dizzy nausea swamping me until I have no choice but to run to the toilet, falling to my knees as I sob, heaving into it again and again.
I’m pregnant. There’s no question about it. Eleven clearly positive tests and one inconclusive. There’s no way to argue with it. Behind me, over the sounds of my puking, I can hear Liam and Alexandre starting to argue.
“It’s mine,monsieur,” Alexandre snaps. “Not onlycouldit be mine, it almost certainly is. I’ve slept withpetiton several occasions—twice the first night, again the next day, and many nights after that, in her room before the dinner party—”
“I don’t need an itemized list of every time you fucked her!” Liam’s voice rises, thundering in the bathroom that suddenly feels far too small for the three of us. “I’ve fucked her too, Alexandre. Your French cock isn’t the only one that she’s had since—”
“Please stop. Please—” I sink onto the soft mat at the edge of the toilet, dabbing at my mouth with a tissue, but the men are far too busy arguing to listen to me. “Please—Alexandre, Liam—”
“You didn’t come inside of her. You said so yourself—”
“I started to!” Liam snarls. “And anyway, you know as well as I do that you don’t have to stuff a woman full of it to get her pregnant. It could very well be mine—”
“Oh, I’ve stuffed her full of my cum,monsieur,” Alexandre smirks. “The odds are, after how much of my cum she’s taken—”
