Page 112 of Fame and Obsession

“I had to see you. Are you all right?”

This is my chance…

“I have to talk to you, Julian. I have so much to tell you that”—my voice breaks—“so much I should’ve told you a month ago.”

If I’m going to do this, it can’t be while I’m lying next to him like we’re some big happy family.

I need space.

Climbing off the bed, I grab the open window and slam it shut. I could’ve sworn I locked it.

As I turn back around, we speak simultaneously.

“Vivian’s dead,” he says.

“I’m pregnant,” I confess.

“What?” we both shout.

“What the hell did you just say?” he asks, the color draining from his cheeks.

“What do you mean she’s dead? I just saw you two together. How can she be dead, Julian?” My breathing starts to become erratic, and I know I’m headed toward a panic attack.

Somewhere in the haze, I hear Julian’s sharp commands. “Phoebe, stop! Breathe, damn it. Talk to me.”

So I do. I close my eyes and breathe, slowly pushing the panic back in a box.

When I open my eyes, I see confusion in his.

I can’t blame him. If he feels a fraction of the shock I did when I heard those words, then the ceiling’s about to come crashing down on him.

“I’m pregnant, Julian,” I repeat softly, his electric gaze pulling me in—drowning me.

His shoulders round as if the wind has been knocked out of him. Cursing, he rubs a hand across his mouth. “You’re pregnant?” He presses the heels of his palms against his temples as he waits for an answer he already knows.

Deciding it’s now or never, I take a few steps toward him.

If he’s going to tell me to go to hell, he’s going to have to say it to my face.

“That’s what I was trying to tell you at the book party. I should’ve told you a long time ago, but I swear to you, Julian, I had a good reason for keeping it from you.” I wrap my arms around my chest in a protective hold.

He’s here, just like I’ve dreamed so many nights. But, like most things, the fantasy is better than the reality.

The confirmation seems to sink in, and he gives me a blank stare. “I don’t know what to say. How the hell did this happen?”

I flinch at the harshness of his tone.

“Yes, I’m fine, thanks for asking.” At his clenched jaw, I sigh. “I don’t know, Julian. Birth control pills are only reliable ninety-nine percent of the time. Surprise, guess who fell into that one percent range?”

He looks exhausted, as if he hasn’t slept in days. The dark circles under his eyes tell the same story.

“Okay, let’s try this again,” he says. “You said you had a good reason for not telling me. Let’s hear it.”

I take a deep breath. “All right, but you have to listen to everything before interrupting. Promise?” He nods, and I pace. “Do you remember when I left Helena’s office? After you kicked me out?”

I proceed to tell him everything—the anxiety attack, the pills, the hospital, the baby, and why I chose not to tell him. I attempt to explain my vow to protect him and our baby from another attack by giving his stalker what she wanted—me out of the way. I admit that I hated giving in to her psychosis but more important things were at stake.

I also explain how I’d tried to tell him at the book party, but he’d been with Vivian and then walked out on me. I made sure to emphasize the last part for my own selfish benefit.

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