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The clerk’s lips tighten as her gaze sweeps over my casual jeans mixed with a simple white blouse, makeup-free face, and a messy bun. The woman whispers something to her coworker in Italian while glaring. I can tell from the way the hairs stand up on my neck that they are talking about me negatively.
Suddenly, Aris, who stood by the door, walks over and stops before both women. He crosses his arms, giving them both a blank stare.
“Miss Amanda? Excuse me to interrupt,” he says, bringing his focus to me. “It seems I brought you to the wrong store. This place is clearly not up to your standards.”
The woman with Cleopatra’s hairstyle mimics Aris’s stand while sending him a hostile glare. I hang the items I hold back into place, and without questioning, I walk to the kind housekeeper, who starts to speak when I stand by his side. His eyes focus on Cleopatra.
“I brought this lovely lady to your store, on the assumption that she would be treated with the respect every customer who walks in here deserves.”
The woman cocks a brow as Aris continues.
“You assumed that because she’s a tourist, a foreigner wearing jeans, she’s likely a potential thief? That, miss, is a big and unacceptable mistake.”
Cleopatra and her colleague cocky’s attitudes falter and their eyes widen.
“I’m taking this lovely lady somewhere else to shop. And I’ll make sure to advise the Onasis family not to shop here anymore. I’m sure they’ll go somewhere else to spend their money. Good day.”
I grin as I follow Aris out of the store. Once outside, Aris turns and gives me a guilty glance. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t. The nerve of those ladies... If they were my employees, I would have fired their asses in the blink of an eye. Their behavior was disrespectful and atrocious.” I place a kiss on the Aris’s cheek. “You were my prince in there. I loathe narrow-minded women like them. She walked like she had a stick up her ass.” My attention goes to my attire. “If people can’t see past the casual outside, it’s their loss. I was tempted to spend my hard-earned money on that cute red dress. But I’d rather keep my jeans than give them a buck.”
“Let’s go home. I’ll make you a well-deserved fruit cocktail,” Aris says.
With bright smiles, we make our way back to the car.
Hours later,I gape up into the night sky, transfixed by the majestic, silvery moonlight shimmering across the sea, yet I can’t enjoy it with a mind that is overcome with a whirlwind of thoughts. A few hours ago, while traveling to the city, I realized that my period should have arrived over a week ago. Initially, I tried to convince myself that it’s due to the stress I’ve had, but deep down I knew there’s a possibility that the cause could be something else. That’s what made me buy the pregnancy test earlier, but now, instead of taking it, I’m wandering along the shoreline and driving myself mad with numerous what-if questions.
I take a deep breath and let it out slowly, trying to gather my thoughts. My mind races with so many questions, and the notion that I could actually be pregnant terrifies me.What if I am? How would I ever manage to raise a child by myself while running my business?All my life I’ve dreamed of having children with someone I love, happily sharing in the joys of raising a family; but the man I thought did want them, doesn’t want them now.
I walk away from the shore, my feet dragging as if weighed down by the gravity of the situation. Tears prick at my eyes as I try to make sense of everything. How am I supposed to do this all on my own? It’s not just about money either; there’s so much more that goes into raising a child—emotional support, guidance, and most of all unconditional love.
A feeling of hopelessness washes over me as an unfamiliar wave of loneliness engulfs me like a blanket and pulls me further into despair.Is this really what life has in store for me? Me being a single mother—without a partner to share the joy and struggles of parenthood with?
Only one way to find out.
Twenty minutes later, I’m pacing my bedroom, barefooted, anxiety prickling in my chest with each step as I grip the slim plastic stick tightly in my hand. My heart is pounding and I can feel a film of sweat on the back of my neck. It’s now or never. After battling the option of throwing this out the window or facing it, I take a deep breath, steeling myself for whatever the digital display will show me before slowly moving my trembling fingers away from the screen. Peeking through my lashes, I watch the stick glide out of my palm and hit the floor with a light thunk. “Goddammit!” I groan at my clumsiness. As I’m about to bend down and reach for it, I spy two pink lines on the screen. My mouth gapes open and closes like a guppy.
“How...” I rub my forehead with a wavering hand. We had double protection. This has to be wrong,” I exclaim, now holding up the stick. “It must be a false positive.”
I plop down onto my couch and let the tears pour from my eyes. Minutes pass, and when I’m calm again, I take another deep breath before getting up and diving into the bathroom again.
Twenty minutes later, I gaze at the three sticks lying on the vanity.
“I’m pregnant,” I mumble.
What am I going to do? How am I going to tell Brian?
My heart aches. I can’t throw this emotional bomb on him while he’s mourning the loss of his mom.
Suddenly, panic builds and my heart races as a craven thought pops into my head.What if our baby has Brugada Syndrome?My breath becomes heavier and I place my hand on the vanity to steady myself while telling myself to breathe.
Focus on the facts: I’m pregnant. The best thing to do is go home to see a doctor so I can talk about my concerns and get answers.
After rearranging my flight back and some TV watching, I head back to my bedroom. Once in my bed, I brush my fingertips across my stomach and let the tears stream down my cheeks as I whisper, “Oh, sweet little miracle bean, if you really are here, I want you to know that I’m here no matter what.”
30
BRIAN
