Page 64 of Forbidden Pregnancy
I hope calling her by her government name instead of the nickname will prompt CC to tell me the truth.
“I can’t tell you.”
The knot tightens. I should have expected that her loyalty to her family was stronger than her loyalty to me. Unfortunately, her refusal to give me any information tells me all that I need to know. He’s planning to take a life.
If Michael’s family members have what it takes to send gangs of men to attack me at several separate intervals over the years, he must know what they’re capable of, and it’s not too far of a reach for me to assume he’s capable of the same thing.
He didn’t show up twelve years later with a missing eye for nothing.Somethinghappened to him. CC presses her face into me.
“Don’t worry about it, Myra.Please.Just come downstairs before Mikey gets done with his workout.” She yawns, as if the mere mention of a workout makes her ready to sleep again. This can’t be good. But if I don’t want CC to get suspicious and discuss the entire situation with Michael, leading to me further disappearing under lock and key.
“Fine. I’ll come downstairs. Any plans for today?”
“Rub your feet and come up with baby names?” CC suggests. I tell her that it sounds like a good idea while quietly mulling over our interaction in Michael’s office. She makes oatmeal for her own breakfast while I sip on a big glass of orange juice and indulge her desire to discuss baby names.
Michael emerges from the wide hallway that leads to the garage entrance wearing his tight pair of black shorts and a pair of white sneakers. No t-shirt. Nothing but his sexy assbody dripping in sweat. He smiles at me and my stomach does a flip. Michael could be in danger. He’s planning on killing…someone… and he doesn’t want me to know. But I do.
If knowing Michael might kill someone is supposed to change the way I feel or think about him, it doesn’t. I admire his calm in the face of every wave about to hit us. He panics over nothing, just moves swiftly from one direction to another in order to protect both me and the future of our families.
“Good morning, baby,” Michael says, crossing the room to wrap his arms around me and then plant a wet, half-sweaty kiss on my cheek. He smells gross, but hot. I want to hug him back, but I also don’t want to get wet.
If you let go of him, he’s going to die.I bury the thought and allow Michael to pull away from me and take a shower. I don’t know where my sudden burst of panic comes from, but my fears of losing Michael to mob related violence suddenly feel like the only thoughts that I can really access.
He leaves the room, and I continue my façade that everything between us is all okay, and that I blindly trust him to handle things.I can’t.If it weren’t for CC’s revelation, I would have never noticed Michael’s small tells throughout the day. After his shower, he eats a bigger breakfast than normal, and he doesn’t head off to work. He cleans his gun.
Then, he spends the rest of the day spoiling me. We drive to a large orchard near a much larger lake for a picnic after a long walk. I hate hiking, but I love a calm little nature walk outside, especially with a sweet treat at the end. Michael delivers with fresh cinnamon rolls and sliced fruit. Yum. After our walk and picnic, he patiently listens to me raving over my favorite new thriller and how I am desperately waiting for a new Romantasy book to drop that has a black female lead who actually looks like me.
We honestly have the perfect day together, which scares me. You ever have a day so incredible that you can’t imagine life getting any better? That’s what it felt like to be next to Michael all day. I never thought I would end up in this place again with a man.
Michael makes his best efforts to keep his secrets until it’s time for us to go to bed. Lately, he has been completely aligned with my desire to go to bed early – at around 8:30 p.m. Tonight, he doesn’t wish to rouse my suspicions, so it’s no different. I’ll face my biggest struggle pretending to be asleep.
Luckily, I have enough time to look up strategies for how to fake like you’re sleeping on the internet. Listen, I wasn’t one of those badass kids and I know there are wild ones out there who have done this better than I ever could. When Michael crawls into bed with me, I pull out my best acting skills, including my fake snoring.
After thirty painful minutes of me pulling out my sleep noises with Oscar-winning potential, Michael slips out of bed. My heart nearly sinks into my throat. I shouldn’t feel betrayed, but I do. I’ll have to keep sleeping until he leaves the house, which I’m pretty sure is the reason he’s slipping out of bed in the middle of the night. He pees (loudly) in our en suite bathroom before changing his clothes. I don’t open my eyes to see what he puts on, but I hear him shuffling around the closet.
When I hear strange metallic noises, my worry intensifies. I’m pretty sure he pulled out a gun. Where the hell could Michael go that would require him to have a gun?
I almost forget myself when he approaches me, but luckily I don’t hold my breath long enough for Michael to notice the shift in my breathing. He comes so close to me that I can smell his clean clothes and cologne. His hand reaches out and touches the side of my head. I’m careful not to respond too much. Sleepingpregnant women are notoriously difficult to wake up and I want to avoid suspicion.
“You are worth the pain,” he says. “You are worth it, Myra.”
My heart pounds nervously as I try to interpret what the hell Michael means by that. What pain? My gut tells me he’s about to do something dangerous, but I can’t act on those fears until Michael leaves. I don’t think about what I’ll do when I follow him or if what I’ll see will change my opinion of him forever. If I catch him doing something dangerous, should I stop him? Can I stop him?
When Michael leaves our bedroom, my sense of confusion and betrayal heightens. I hear CC’s voice in the hallway.
“Are you ready?”
“Shh!” Michael hisses. But it’s too late. If I were sleeping, they might have snuck out, but I’m listening carefully and hanging onto every strange sound echoing through the house. I don’t know why I feel so compelled to discover the truth. When has learning the truth about Michael’s family ever led anywhere good?
CC makes an effort to lower her voice, but I can still make out the words. “Are you sure she’s asleep? I could have sworn she was suspicious earlier.”
“She’s been asleep for half an hour.”
“Are you sure?”
“She’s pregnant with my baby,” Michael hisses, forgetting himself just enough that I can hear his voice elevating over his sister’s. “I know more about her and her habits than you could ever dream.”
“You are so weird.”
