Page 19 of Tight End
I set my phone aside and dropped backward onto my comforter, staring at the ceiling. My throat burned, and the urge to cry hit so hard that I had to press the heels of my palms against my eyes just to keep the tears in.
It was all too much. The jet lag. The hormones. The job pressure. The secret I was carrying around inside me.
When I finally sat up again, I noticed I had a new text from Raiden that had come in while I was asleep in the cab.
My heart tightened painfully as I opened it.
Raiden
Tonight. My place.
My hand shook as I typed back the only thing I could manage.
Me
Okay.
Meeting at his penthouse was probably for the best. Now that there wasn’t an ocean between us, I couldn’t put it off any longer. I had to tell him whether I was ready or not.
My stomach turning, I exhaled unsteadily and whispered into the empty room, “Please don’t hate me.”
I sat on the edge of my bed for a long minute after sending that text, staring at my one-word reply and seriously contemplating just calling him and blurting everything out before my nerves made me physically sick. But I knew thatwasn’t the right way to handle this. Raiden deserved more from me.
I pushed to my feet before I started spiraling again. If I stayed still any longer, I’d crawl under the covers and disappear until morning. And I couldn’t do that. Not today.
My suitcase was by the door, so I dragged it toward the closet and dug through to the bottom, searching for my makeup bag. Then I took a long, hot shower, shaving and exfoliating myself until I actually felt semi-human again. And ready for whatever Raiden might want to do if he reacted the way I’d dared to hope when I wasn’t worried about the worst-case scenario. A shudder raced down my spine as I remembered waking up sobbing from a nightmare when he’d told me how much he hated me.
At least I wouldn’t be able to torture myself with all the possible outcomes of this conversation anymore. I’d finally know.
First, I needed to find the perfect outfit. Although it was too early for the pregnancy to show, between the breast tenderness and bloating, I’d been having a difficult time picking what to wear over the past week.
Rifling through the hangers, I tugged out a soft sweater and a pair of high-waisted jeans and held them up, trying to imagine facing Raiden in them.
Immediately, I hated both.
I rummaged again, pulling out a black top with a neckline that emphasized my curves and dark jeans that hugged my legs without squeezing my too-sensitive stomach. That felt safer. More put-together. And definitely didn’t scream “I’m pregnant.” Not that clothes could even do that this early, but I wanted to look good tonight.
My hands shook as I changed. Twice, I had to stop and breathe through the nausea that kept rolling through me inwaves. Part pregnancy, part nerves, and part fear that I was about to ruin the possibility of a future with Raiden.
I needed to stay busy or I’d unravel completely, so I spent the next two hours unpacking, doing laundry, ordering groceries, and getting caught up on emails. Then I brushed out my hair, stopping halfway through twisting it into a ponytail. Raiden had tugged it loose the night we were together. His fingers had slid through the strands as though he couldn’t get enough of touching me. So I left it down.
Doing my makeup felt like a lost cause. My eyes were still puffy from exhaustion, and my skin was too pale, no matter how much concealer I dabbed on. But I tried. If I was going to tell a man like Raiden he’d accidentally gotten me pregnant, the least I could do was not show up looking like I was falling apart.
The sun had already started to set by the time I finally stepped into my boots, and I caught my reflection in the hallway mirror. I looked more like myself. But inside, I knew I stood on the edge of something that would change my entire life.
My stomach roiled as I grabbed my phone and purse. It had only been four hours since Raiden told me to come to his place, but it felt like so much longer.
I locked my apartment door behind me, and everything felt wrong. The hallway seemed too quiet, the elevator too slow, and the street outside too loud.
As I walked toward the curb to call a cab, my hand drifted once more to my abdomen, my fingers brushing the spot where a new life was growing.
Then a cab pulled up, and I was finally on my way to deliver the news I’d been carrying alone for a week.
8
RAIDEN
Ipaced my penthouse like a caged animal, my jaw tense and nerves coiled tight in my gut. Every minute that ticked by felt like an hour. I’d vacuumed the place twice and wiped down every counter. Changed shirts. Showered again. None of it helped. I still felt like I was about to jump out of my skin.
