Page 66 of Belonging to Them
During the drive to campus, I spot a pharmacy.“Hey, Cora?Can we pull over a second?I need to pick up something.”
We park and pile out of the car.When the guards first started working with me, Kingston and Sebastian assured me that my privacy would be protected at all times.I am free to go where I want, when I want, and nobody at Ironwood will report my movements to King and Bash unless I’m in danger.
But something about all of my guards knowing what I’m about to buy just doesn’t feel good.Already, my face is hot with shame.How could I be so stupid as to put myself at risk for pregnancy?What mistake did I make?And how did I not notice it earlier?
Stress, is the answer.I’ve been ridiculously stressed out lately, and nothing has been happening on schedule with my biology.
“Cora, can maybe just you come into the store with me?”I whisper.“I need to buy something…sensitive.”
“Yes, as long as Roman can stand just outside,” she says.“I’ll let him know to wait here.”
I wander the aisles until I come to the display of pregnancy tests.For fuck’s sake, there are like a thousand different brands.I don’t know which is best.If I take too long, Roman might wonder why.So I grab two and hurry to the check-out counter.
Cora gives me a thoughtful look but glances quickly away.
As soon as the pregnancy tests are paid for, I shove them deep into my purse.I’m being paranoid.I have an IUD.I cannot be pregnant.I don’t need these tests, and I’m not even going to use them right away.They’re just for an emergency.
Those are probably all things Gianna told herself, though.
SEVENTEEN
Ella
I would’ve thought the green room at Red Letter would be bigger and better for such a popular venue, but instead it’s cramped, with a loveseat that could seat three if the occupants get extra cozy, and four folding chairs that are stored against the wall when not in use, so as to save the approximate three square feet of floor space.The walls bear weird-ass motivational posters that I’d expect to see in a mid-level corporate break room.“Attitude begins with A but it starts with You,” that kind of shit.
Cramped?Yes.Dim?Yes.Tacky?Very.But to me—it’s heaven.Red Letter doesn’t allow nobodies to climb onto their stage…yet here I am.
I sip from a cup of lukewarm tea.A plate of sliced apples sits on the teensy side table next to the loveseat.
Faint bass thuds through the walls—the always-on background music that plays when artists aren’t performing.It reminds me of a heartbeat.I rest a hand against my lower stomach.
“Do you have to hurl?”Helena asks from her folding chair, nudging a wastebasket toward me.
I laugh a little.“No.”
“It’s okay if you do.And better now before you go out there.I just don’t want it on my shoes, okay?These are my lucky Louboutins.”
“They’re very pretty,” I say, looking at her heels.Black at the front, which fades to red at the back.“I’ll do my best to keep them vomit-free.”
“I appreciate it,” she says.
Consciously, I keep my hand away from my middle.There’s no baby there.I used several tests this morning.I didn’t think I could really be pregnant, but ever since talking to Gianna, my brain wouldn’t stop.Having those concerns hanging over my head while I was going on stage for the first time just seemed like too much.I had to be one hundred percent sure.
I smile to myself now.All that worry for nothing.
But how messed up is it that I’m…kind of disappointed?Imagine carrying a child who came from part me, and part Kingston or Sebastian.If the guys were on board with the whole endeavor, the baby would be so loved by all three of us.
“Fifteen minutes,” Helena says.“Are your guys out in the audience?”
“Yeah,” I say, checking my phone again.They texted when they arrived and said they had found a table fairly close to the stage.If I get too nervous, I’m going to sing just to them, they said.They offered to wait with me in the green room, but that would make me too nervous.
So here we are, my agent and me and my fetus-free uterus, sitting in the green room with a wastebasket between us and bass pumping through the walls.
“You have the card with your set list?”she asks.
I reach into my dress’s pocket—because yes, the dress I bought for tonight has pockets.“Right here,” I say.
“And you’re sure about the last one?”
