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I crackmy sticky eyes open, stretching to get rid of the heaviness in my limbs.
The room is bright, sunlight streaming through the cracks in the curtains. I ghost my hand over my head and touch silk, which means my bonnetdidstay on last night—I’m always grateful for that. I’m swaddled in the thick sheets up to my neck, facing the edge of the bed.
Still groggy from sleep, I roll over.
Alexander’s asleep beside me, snoring.
He’s a picture of cruel beauty, as usual. There’s a slight frown on his lips, his eyebrows lowered. He has one hand across his chest, and the other is in a loose fist at his side. Whatever he’s dreaming about has him perplexed. I lean over to press a kiss to his lips.
The sudden movement has a wave of nausea rocking my body.
Oh fuck.
I scramble out of the bed as quickly as I can, but I can barely keep it down. I make it to the toilet a second before my stomach empties its contents. I’m hunched over the toilet, holding on to the rim for dear life for what feels like a torturous eternity.
Apparently, I’m not one of the lucky women that don’t have morning sickness.
When I’m certain the nausea has left, I pull myself to my feet and hobble over to the sink. Rinsing my mouth as vigorously as I can, I wash my face. When I straighten, the woman staring back at me in the mirror looks so different.
My cheeks are puffy, and I swear my nose looks a little swollen. To my own eyes, I don’t look the same. I still look tired, even though I got a good night’s rest. I can’t hide this pregnancy forever, and there’s a tendril of shame wrapping itself around my neck that I’m hiding it fromAlexanderof all people.
I should tell him.
It’shiskid too. And after the conversations we’ve had, I don’t think he’ll be upset or angry or anything negative. I think he’ll be happy—it’s clear he’s thought about us having a family at some point. But that’s also why I don’t want to tell him yet.
Not with the tenuous situation happening with his father. Because right after his initial bout of happiness, he’s going to be struck with his strong sense of duty. He’s going to want to protect me–protectus–more than ever.
And I can’t be sure of what that will make him do.
When this trip is over, we’ll be far enough away from his father. Yes, we’ll be back on campus—and I can’t believe I’mthinkingthis—but even there feels safer than here, with the unpredictability of Griffin Duke.
After all, Alexander has never been nearly killed by anyone there.
I’ll probably have to defer my studies for a while, and who knows if Alexander would want to do the same. But at least we’d have a bit more privacy to make the hard decisions.
For now, I’m making this decision for the safety of all three of us.
My instincts tell me it’s the right thing to do.
And that’s weird as fuck to even notice, because I’ve never felt like I’ve had much instincts before. Yes, I’ve always had a survival instinct of some sort—or maybe a lot of anxiety so I know when something might be a bad idea. But I’ve never feltthisprotective instinct before.
Is that part of the whole pregnancy package?
I pee then take a shower but change back into pajamas. Alexander probably isn’t awake yet—if he was, he would come looking for me since I’m not in bed—and the thought of lounging in bed for a little longer feelssoappealing right now.
Just as I thought, he’s still snoring.
He’s lying on his uninjured side now, his muscular, tattooed arm tucked beneath his head. He doesn’t look as angry, but I still kiss him this time. He doesn’t even move. Usually, Alex is a lighter sleeper than me. If he’s this tuckered out, it must be because of all the stress yesterday.
Itissupposed to be a vacation after all. He can get all the sleep he needs.
I settle into bed beside him, situating myself under the covers and picking my phone up from off the nightstand. There are a few messages in the group chat between Tara, Nya and I. They’re posting updates from their vacations. Tara made it home to Colombia, and Nya is somewhere on a yacht with bluer water than I’ve ever seen in my life.
A:I’m getting jealous. It’s colder than a witch’s tit here.
N: We should go somewhere for Spring Break.
T: YES. Jamaica?
