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“Alright,” I said, passing her the phone from the bedside table. As her fingers danced over the screen, dialing the number she’d committed to memory, I found myself watching her with a sense of admiration.
Despite every obstacle life had thrown her way, Adriana had always mustered the strength to face them head-on. And here she was again, preparing to unravel our complicated situation to her sister, all while maintaining a stoic composure that left me in awe of her resilience.
And she looked fucking sexy while doing it. How did she do that?
I needed to get a fucking grip.
As the dial tone hummed into the silence of the room, my heart pounded in my chest. This was it–there was no turning back now. She held the phone up to her ear, and after a moment’s pause, her face softened into a smile as she began speaking.
“Hey, it’s me. I…I have something to tell you.” Adriana’s voice was steady, her words clear and measured.
“Speakerphone,” I mouthed at her.
Adriana nodded, putting the receiver down and pressing a button to put Carmen on speakerphone.
Carmen’s lively voice filled the room, “Oh finally, Adriana! I have been worried sick. What in the world is happening? Where are you?”
“I’m safe, Carmen,” Adriana reassures her. “I’m with Tristan.”
“Still?” Carmen asked.
Adriana’s eyes narrowed. “Yes. Still.”
I watched her bite her lip, a sure sign she was nervous. Carmen sighed over the line, a weary sound that filled the room. “Adriana,” she started, her voice softer now. “I don’t understand…this isn’t like you. What’s going on?”
“So, you know, we were being chased. We were like, almost killed. And now we’re away, trying to stay safe. Keeping our heads down,” Adriana answered.
“And?” Carmen pushed, her voice sharpening with concern.
“Carmen,” Adriana’s voice wavered, but she quickly gathered herself. “I’m pregnant.”
There was silence on the other end of the line before Carmen’s voice came back, a softer tone curling around her words. “You’re what? Pregnant? As in…with a baby?”
“Yes, that’s usually how it works,” she replied.
“Is it Tristan’s?”
My heart lurched at Carmen’s question, the words hanging in the air between us like a loaded gun. I could see Adriana’s cheeks flush at her sister’s boldness.
“Yes,” Adriana said, her voice barely a whisper. “Tristan is the father.”
A stinging silence echoed through the room once again. Carmen’s end of the line was dead still, her surprise obvious even through the phone. I clenched my fist, my nails digging into my palm as I awaited her response.
“And you’re with him? Staying with him? Is he…” she trailed off, leaving her question unfinished.
But the implication was clear.
Are you safe? Is he hurting you? Are you there by choice?
“He’s taking care of me,” Adriana replied, looking at me. “He’s being nice to me.”
Carmen sighed. “Where are you?”
“I’m not sure,” Adriana said. “Somewhere in Delaware. In a hotel.”
“So, you’re on the run, pregnant, and with a man who…who is…you know…” Carmen’s voice trailed off, her hesitation audible even through the silence. The room suddenly felt too small, the air too dense.
“He’s not what you think, Carmen,” Adriana said quietly. Her eyes met mine across the room, a silent pact of trust passing between us.
