Page 33 of Triplet Babies
“Is that what you’d be doing? Using the baby to break them up?” She sounds skeptical.
I consider the question honestly. “I don’t know. Part of me hopes he’ll choose me and the baby over a business arrangement. Is that using it?”
She shrugs. “Only you can answer that.”
We drive back to Greenwich in relative silence, both lost in our own thoughts. By the time Nina drops me off at the estate, just an hour late for work, I’ve managed to compose myself enough to function, though I feel like I’m walking through a dream.
My phone buzzes with a text from Yarik as I’m walking into the building. I’m expecting it to be a reprimand or inquiry for why I’m an hour late, but he apparently hasn’t noticed yet. Thankfully.
Can you pick up breakfast from Bluestone Café? The usual order. Meeting ran long and I’m starving.
I stare at the message for a long moment. The thought of food makes my stomach turn, but I can’t exactly explain why I can’t handle this simple request without revealing everything. I text back:“Of course. Be there in twenty minutes.”
I borrow a staff car since I left mine at the apartment. The drive to Bluestone Café gives me more time to think, though my thoughts keep circling without reaching any conclusions. How do I tell the man I’m falling in love with that I’m carrying his child when he’s still engaged to someone else? How do I know if I’m being honest about my feelings, or if I’m just trying to use the pregnancy to secure my place in his life?
The café is busy with the morning rush, and I join the line behind several other customers, trying to ignore the wave of nausea that threatens to return. The smell of bacon and coffee that usually makes my mouth water now makes me feel queasy.
I’m checking my phone to confirm Yarik’s usual order when a scent hits me that makes me freeze and start to tremble as sandalwood and spice assault my senses. The cologne is expensive, distinctive, and the exact brand Alex used to wear.
When I can move again, I slowly turn to scan the café. The breakfast crowd is typical for Greenwich, with well-dressed professionals, young mothers with strollers, and a few tourists exploring the area. I see no one who looks like Alex. In fact, there are no familiar faces at all.
I tell myself I’m being paranoid. It’s a popular cologne and expensive enough that multiple men in an affluent area would wear it. Just because someone else uses the same fragrance doesn’t mean Alex is here.
The rational part of my mind knows this, but my body doesn’t get the message. My hands shake as I place Yarik’s order, and I keep glancing over my shoulder while I wait, expecting to see Alex’s face in the crowd.
By the time I get back to the estate car with the food, I’m practically hyperventilating. I sit in the parking lot for several minutes, taking deep breaths and trying to calm down. I pull out my phone to text Yarik, wanting to tell him about the scare, the pregnancy…everything. My fingers hover over the keyboard as I type and delete several messages.
Something weird happened at the café. Can we talk?
Delete.
I need to tell you something important.
Delete.
Are you free to talk privately today?
Delete.
I can’t do it. I can’t tell him about Alex potentially being in Greenwich when I have no proof beyond a familiar scent. I especially can’t tell him about the pregnancy when I haven’t even processed it myself yet, and it’s not the sort of thing I’d drop via text anyway.
The pregnancy changes everything, but I don’t know how. If Yarik goes through with marrying Katya, where does that leave me and this baby? Do I become the secret mistress raising his child on the side? Do I disappear completely and raise the baby alone? Am I strong enough to make that decision, to put principles above how I feel about him?
The worst part is wondering about my own motives. Do I want to tell him about the pregnancy because he deserves to know, or because I’m hoping it will make him choose me over his obligation to the Nikitin family?
I don’t have answers to any of these questions, and the uncertainty is eating at me. What I do know is that everything has changed, and I need time to figure out what I want before I can even think about what to tell Yarik.
For now, I’ll keep this secret a little longer. Just until I can sort through my feelings and decide what kind of woman I want to be in this situation.
I drive back to the estate with Yarik’s breakfast and a head full of questions I’m not ready to answer. When I hand him the food, he kisses my cheek and thanks me, completely unaware that in the space of one morning, everything between us has shifted.
“You look pale,” he says, studying my face with concern. “Are you feeling all right?”
I force a smile. “Just tired. I didn’t sleep well last night.”
“Maybe you should go home early today and rest.”
It’s tempting, but that would leave me too many hours to just think, and I’m not up for that yet. “I’m fine. Really.”
