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Prologue I
FLEUR
Six months earlier
I need oxygen. Air. Anything to wake me up from this nightmare. I’m not ready for this. I haven’t given babies a first thought let alone a second. I’m twenty-two. Twenty-fucking-two. I know nothing about being a mother. Nothing.
“No. No, no, no…” I shake the stick in my hand, hoping that the words change from Pregnant to Not Pregnant.
They don’t, and all the horrible nausea that prompted me to even consider this turn of events returns with a vengeance.
I look at all the other tests I’ve dumped in the bathroom sink and try not to spew my guts again.
“It’s got to be wrong.” Growling, I sift through all the other pee sticks. There has to be one that contradicts this because I swear we were careful.
This doesn’t make sense. We used protection. Casper is always careful.
“Shit!” I throw the last test into the pile in the sink.
With my heart hammering in my throat, I slip onto the toilet seat. I don’t bother checking my phone when it rings. All my energy is gone, and talking isn’t something I can fathom this moment. No, wallowing over this fucking disaster is safer when I can’t even tell my best friend. Cassie will tell Leo, her boyfriend, and… “Fuck!”
Casper’s going to hate me. His niece has just died, and here I am knocked up with his kid. “Shit.”
My phone rings again, and in spite of my want to ignore it, I answer the call. “Yeah?”
“Where are you?” he asks, sounding serious and broody like always.
“Home.”
“I thought you were coming over?” There’s an edge of nonchalance in his voice, and it pisses me off.
“I’m sick.” It’s not a complete lie—I am sick. I’m sick with his child.
“Fine,” he mutters before we fall awkwardly silent.
Who knew Casper Gladstone could do awkward silence?
He’s quiet in general. It’s what I like about him. I have enough shit going on in my head on a good day, and he’s not a talker. We can co-exist without all our baggage cluttering around us. Somehow, we’ve become each other’s escape. Until now. If I tell him, he’ll push me away and I’ll become another burden he carries. I could take care of the situation myself, but I’ll never be able to look him in the eyes again.
We may not be serious. Fuck buddies never are, and the reality is that we’re not even buddies. I have no idea what we are. Only that we exist in the same world.
“Well.” His breath blows down the phone.
It’s like I can feel the ruffle of it ghost into my ear like when we’re fucking. And God, the effect it has on me is shameful. Need overwhelms me from the top of my head to the soles of my feet. Every pore is yearning for him. His touch. His scent. It’s as though every molecule of my anatomy knows that this is it, and that thought alone is enough to set my stupid, oversensitive emotions off.
What is wrong with me?
“Feel better,” he finishes.
“Ah…what?” I’m so lost in my thoughts that I forget why we’re on the phone.
“You’re sick…”
“Yeah. Sorry.”
The chuckle down the phone is so low and so fucking rumbly that I have to hold my breath so I don’t squeak.
It’s so pathetic considering I was ready to curse him and his super spunk only a few minutes ago, and now, I’m here silently panting over his breaths and his voice.
“Are you sure you’re okay?”
“I’m fine. Just a bug.” Your fucking bug, taking up residence in my fucking womb.
“Well, I guess I’ll see you around.”
He’ll see me around. He’ll see me around?
He was balls-deep inside my pussy last night, and that’s what he says?
I’ll see you around.
What. The. Fuck?
“Sure,” I snap sourly. It’s stupid, but so is his remark. “Bye.”
Without a second thought, I hang up, regretting it instantly. Because that could’ve been the last conversation we had where he still wants me. There’s no way Casper is going to want me when I tell him I’m knocked up.
Collecting all the tests in my sink, I drop them into the plastic bag with the pharmacy logo. It’s so thin that it doesn’t conceal anything. So fucking pointless. Maybe he got the condoms from the same place and that’s why I’m now pregnant.
I’m pregnant.
Fan-fucking-tastic.
We were never in a relationship and at no point ever talked about it being a relationship. It was just sex. Great fucking—the kind that makes you forget about all others you’ve had.
I leave the bathroom door ajar so that the crack of light cuts through the stark darkness of my room. And while I face-plant the bed, I pull as much of Casper’s scent into my lungs as possible.
He was here this time last night, and my worry was a mere niggle because like last night, we’ve never been reckless enough for this outcome.
My mouth waters with his soft, clean scent mixed with his sharp aftershave. Even his sweat smells good on my sheets.
I’m almost lulled to sleep when the tapping on my window starts. Normally, I would freak out, but I’ve come to learn that Casper is stealthy as hell, and his climbing skills are almost too good. He’s a real-life GI Joe.
Unable to cope with the continuous rapping, I g
et up and open the window to my Juliette balcony.
