Page 90 of Single Dad's Fake Bride
I gripped the edge of the sink, waiting for the waves of sickness to pass. "I'm fine. Just upset about the job situation."
But Mom's sharp eyes missed nothing. She'd been through this herself twenty-eight years ago. As I mopped up my face, she eyed me cautiously. "When was your last cycle?" she asked, and her question only confirmed my own fears.
I tried to remember, counting backward, but I didn't remember. I was supposed to start a week ago but I hadn't. But Harrison and I hadn't been together that long, really, three weeks? Maybe four? Everything blurred together in that moment and I couldn't think straight.
"I don't know," I lied.
"Sadie."
Her tone left no room for argument. I turned to face her, seeing my own fear reflected in her expression.
"Five days late," I admitted. "Maybe six."
She nodded slowly. "The pharmacy in town is discreet."
I could feel her watching me, waiting to see what I'd do with the information. Part of me wanted to deny the possibility, to blame the missed cycle on stress and the upheaval of the past month. But my body knew better than my mind.
I'd felt different for days now—not sick, exactly, but aware of changes I couldn't name. The way certain foods suddenly repulsed me. How tired I'd been despite sleeping well. The tenderness that made putting on a bra uncomfortable.
An hour later, I'd been to the pharmacy and back. The small box felt like a lead weight in my hands as I locked myself in the powder room. My reflection in the mirror looked pale, frightened. I followed the instructions with trembling fingers, then set the test on the counter and forced myself to look away.
The waiting was agony. Three minutes felt endless. When I finally turned back, two pink lines stared up at me—pregnant.
I gripped the edge of the sink, my knees suddenly weak. The collision of emotions was overwhelming, joy and terror battling for dominance in my chest. I'd always dreamed of being a mother, had imagined holding my own child countless times. But not this way.
This changed everything. Our careful arrangement, our five-year timeline—all of it crumbled in the face of two pink lines. This wasn't about protecting Eloise's education anymore or giving me financial stability. This was about creating life, about becoming a family in ways neither of us had planned.
What would Harrison think? Would he see this as a trap, a way to force his hand beyond our contract? The doubt gnawed at me, made worse by the memory of this morning's conversation. I'd already lost my job for getting too close to him. Now I was carrying his child.
I thought about the beach this morning, watching Mom interact with Eloise, seeing the possibility of three generations together. It had felt precious then, fragile but real. Now it might become permanent. I'd never anticipated this.
The irony wasn't lost on me. I'd married Harrison to solve his inheritance problem, and now I was pregnant with the heir that would make all of it irrelevant. A baby would tie us together long after our five-year agreement ended. A baby that would make me question whether anything between us had ever been fake at all.
I picked up the test, studying those two lines as if they might disappear if I looked hard enough. They didn't. This was real. This was happening.
I was pregnant with Harrison Vale's baby, and I had no idea how to tell the man I'd married for convenience but was falling in love with despite every rational thought in my head.
25
HARRISON
Ihung up the phone and stared at my desk, Theodore's words echoing in my head—lawsuit, media attention, fabricated marriage.
I tried calling Margot twice. She declined both calls. When I left a voicemail asking her to back down, I knew it was pointless. From my point of view, I felt the suit was futile, but if she wanted to keep wasting her time and money, I wouldn’t stop her.
Voices from the dining room drew me out. I found Sadie, her mother, and Eloise hunched over a clay volcano project. Eloise's hair fell across her face as she concentrated on painting.
"The lava flows down because of gravity, not because it wants to," Janet was explaining, her voice clearer than it had been in days.
Sadie laughed—a sound I hadn't heard all week. "That's very philosophical, Mom."
I stood in the doorway watching them work together, feeling that familiar ache. This was what a family looked like, and it was what I wanted my family to look like. I wanted them to be my family.
Sadie glanced up and saw me. The easy smile faded slightly and she gave me a polite nod before turning back to the project.
"Dad! Look what we're making—Mount Vesuvius!" Eloise beamed. "Tomorrow we're going to make it erupt with baking soda and vinegar."
"That sounds incredible, sweetheart."
