Page 141 of Please Open Me
Cameron’s expression soured. “Yeah, she did… but she’s not now.”
“What? Why?”
“'Cause she is upstairs asleep on the couch, and I’m gonna let her.” He placed a hand on the back of his neck. “She needs it, so don’t you go waking her up.”
A knot formed in my chest. “Is she… sick?”
Before everything started going crazy, she’d asked me if I thought her organs were failing. And while I hadn’t thought about her being unwell in some time, I needed to make sure.
“No,” Cameron replied, then hesitated for just long enough to tell me I wasn’t going to like what came next. “she’s pregnant.”
The word seemed to echo off the walls, bouncing around my skull until it finally sank in.
“She’s what?” I breathed as a terrible tremor infested my hands.
“Pregnant,” he repeated, slower this time. “and if you tell her I told you before she was ready, I will deny it… I just, I thought you should know, and I don’t think she's fixin’ to tell you.”
My ribs suddenly shrank, leaving my lungs to expand against the hard surface. It hurt, and no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t drag enough air in.
“She’s… pregnant,” I echoed, the word tasting foreign on my tongue. “Like… with ababy?”
Cameron nodded.
“I-is it Lucian’s?” God, after his outburst, I hoped not.
“I don’t think so…” he said non-discreetly.
“Is ityours?” I could have another redheaded baby.
Cameron wanted a son to round out his ideal four children. But, he slowly shook his head.
“I used condoms because I wasn’t ready for another one, but someone in our house thought pulling out was an effective form of contraception.”
I jabbed a hand at my chest.
“You think it’smine?” I squeaked.
Slowly, Cameron nodded. “She hasn’t had a DNA test or anything. Fuck, she won’t even let me in on her appointments, so I don’t know, but if I had to guess…”
And just like that, my knees liquefied, leaving me to support myself on a nearby treadmill.
“Holy shit,” I whispered. “holyshit.”
“I didn’t tell you to freak you out—”
“Well, it worked anyway. I’m freaked out.” My words came out as a nervous half-laugh, half-sob.
A baby.
Ababy.
Mine. Maybe.
Exactly what Dale wanted.
And, if Dale didn’t exist, this is exactly whatIwanted.
Should I laugh?
