Page 75 of Cross Me

“But I don’t need pity.” I couldn’t expect her to understand. My every move was already watched by security teams and tabloids, even my own husband. The thought of them analyzing me, judging me—or just feeling sorry for me—was too much. No one else could carry my burden, just as no one else could carry my child.

“I won’t say anything,” she promised, “but you are telling Alexander.”

“I don’t know,” I admitted.

“Clara, I know you’re upset with him, but—”

“It’s not that,” I interrupted her. “I’m not upset anymore. All of it feels so inconsequential compared to this. I’m the only one who can save this baby. He can’t do any more than I can.”

He would feel helpless and Alexander didn’t do well with that.

“You have to tell him.”

I grabbed her hand. “He already treats me like glass, Belle. If he knew, he wouldn’t touch me for months. I’ll go crazy.”

“This is about sex?” Her hand dropped mine.

“No.” I shook my head. “It’s about needing to be in control of my life—of my body. If he knows, it will be worse, not better. If he’s worried it will stress me out...”

“But what if,” she trailed off, as if finishing that sentence was too painful.

“I am made of glass?” I finished softly. “He won’t be surprised if I shatter.” He seemed to always expect it. At least, he would be prepared.

“You won’t,” Belle said with a sudden ferocity that ignited my own.

“I know that.” I did. After the tears dried, I’d confronted the fear churning inside me, and I hadn’t turned away.

“I won’t tell.” She might have believed I was strong enough, but it was clear she wasn’t certain of this decision. I knew she would respect it, though.

I felt better knowing I would have at least one person I could talk to about this. I’d have to ask Dr. Ball to keep the information private from Alexander, as well. I was sure the doctor wouldn’t be thrilled, but he’d have to respect my wishes as his patient.

“Do I look like hell?” I asked her. “I don’t want Georgia tattling on me.”

“You might be surprised at how understanding she is, if you let her be,” Belle advised me, “and you look fine.”

I’d never told Belle about the past Georgia shared with my husband, so I couldn’t tell her why I’d have to take her word for that.

“Truly fine? Or fine for having spent an hour crying fine?”

“A little camouflage might help,” she admitted. She dug in her purse and found a lip gloss and under-eye concealer. I took it gratefully, desperate to erase any remnants of tears, even if it meant hiding behind make-up. I stepped into the waiting room with a half-assed excuse for why we’d taken so long.

But it wasn’t Smith and Georgia waiting for me.

Alexander waited in a chair that was too small for his powerful body. His dark head was in his hands, but he looked up hopefully when he heard us. He was on his feet in an instant. His tie was undone, hanging loosely around his unbuttoned collar, and he’d abandoned his suit jacket. He hesitated for one agonizing second before he crossed the space in two great strides and took me in his arms.

Belle murmured something I was too dazed to hear and disappeared.

“Poppet.” He pressed me to his firm body and I melted against him. “You should have told me.”

I fought the tears that threatened to betray me and forced my gaze up to his. “I didn’t want to bother you.”

It was a lie. It was the truth. It was the complicated reality of our lives.

“Christ,” he muttered and I tensed, waiting for him to explode. Instead, he kissed my forehead. “I’m sorry. For missing this. For everything.” He glanced down and caught sight of the pictures I clutched. “Did you…?”

“Yeah,” I said shyly. “Want to see him?”

“Him?” he repeated.