Page 94 of The Wrong Mafia Bride
Time stops.
"What?" The word comes out barely above a whisper.
"I am pregnant," she repeats, and now I can see it—the slight glow in her cheeks, the protective way her free hand rests on her still-flat stomach, the joy and terror mixing in her eyes. "With Dolan's baby. About eight weeks along."
"Oh my God." I stare at her, my brain trying to catch up. "Erin, that is?—"
"Terrifying and wonderful and completely insane," she finishes. "And I think you might be pregnant too."
"I cannot be pregnant," I say, even as my brain is already doing the math. When was my last period? Six weeks ago? Seven? And I have been with Dante and Gabriel and Luca for?—
Oh God.
"I could be pregnant," I amend, and the realization makes me feel like the floor has dropped out from under me.
"We need to get you a test," Erin says immediately, jumping onto her knees. "I have extras in my bag because I have been taking them obsessively to make sure?—"
"Erin." I grab her wrist, stopping her mid-motion. "I cannot think about this right now. With everything going on with Patrick and?—"
"Patrick?" She frowns. "What does Patrick have to do with anything?"
I open my mouth to deflect, to lie, to protect her the way I have been trying to protect her for weeks.
But then I look at her face—my best friend, my sister, the person I would die for—and I can’t do it. Can’t lie to her. Not about this.
"He threatened you," I say quietly. "After I saw him two weeks ago. He threatened to kill you if I refused to spy on Dante and the Salvatores."
All the color drains from Erin's face. "He what?"
"He wants information so he can take Brooklyn from the Italians. He said Seamus was in on it, but I know that is a lie. Seamus would never—" My voice cracks. "He grabbed me by the throat and said if I told anyone, he would kill you. And I have been trying to figure out how to protect you and handle this and?—"
"Rosie." Erin's voice is sharp, cutting through my spiral. "Why didn’t you tell me this immediately?"
"I tried to call you so many times! Because I thought you were safe! You were in Texas with Dolan and I didn’t want to drag you back into this mess?—"
"I am already in this mess!" She stands abruptly, pacing. "God, Rosie, do you really think I would let you face this alone? Do you really think I would choose my safety over yours?"
"Yes!" The word bursts out of me. "Yes, Erin, because that is what I chose for you! That is why I took your place at the wedding, why I married Dante, why I have been dealing with Patrick's threats—because you deserve to be safe and happy and free!"
"And what about you?" She whirls to face me, tears streaming down her face. "Don’t you deserve those things too?"
I open my mouth to respond, but before I can, there is a knock at the door.
"Come in, baby," Erin calls, clearly expecting Dolan.
The door opens.
But it is not Dolan who steps through.
It is Patrick.
And he is holding a gun to Dolan's back.
"Hello, girls," Patrick says pleasantly, as if he is not currently threatening violence in Erin's bedroom. "Sorry to interrupt."
Erin makes a strangled sound, moving toward Dolan instinctively, but Patrick presses the gun harder against his spine.
"I would not," Patrick warns. "Unless you want to see what Dolan's insides look like."
