Page 60 of Beautiful Killer

That thought had me spinning away and striding to the bathroom. I leaned over the bathroom counter, splashing my face with water. What the hell are you doing? Leave and don’t come back. Van would take over her case if I asked him to. He’d make sure she was safe. He wouldn’t ask questions, he’d let me retreat, back to where I was before Sunny walked into my life. Nah, that was bullshit. Van wouldn’t let me do shit. Maybe once he would have, but he’d been on my case more lately. And as much as I didn’t want to acknowledge it, I was different. I felt different. Sunny had done that.

Yeah, I should leave. I wasn’t going to, though. Instead, I walked back into the bedroom, helped Sunny out of her dress, ’cause I wanted to feel her skin against mine, and climbed in beside her.

Fuck.

Sunny

The shop had been crazy busy. I didn’t know what caused the influx of customers, and usually I’d be thrilled. Today, though, I wanted to crawl under the desk, curl into a fetal position, and puke. Zeke had dropped me off at work this morning, after my crazy night with Ruby and Lulu, followed by more crazy, of a different kind, with Zeke. Crazy weird . . . then crazy hot. The man had me confused and mixed up and in a constant state of arousal.

On top of all that, I was tired as hell. Zeke had kept me busy most of the night, and when he had fallen asleep, he’d tossed and turned and groaned in his sleep. He’d been having another nightmare, but this time I hadn’t woken him. I didn’t want him freaking out on me, or worse, to walk out. So I’d laid beside him, curling into him, or tried to, attempting to soothe him in his sleep. It didn’t work.

I forced a smile and handed the woman in front of me her new necklace—that’s when a wave of nausea hit, so intense, I slapped a hand over my mouth.

She started. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” I said, cutting her off then waved a hand to get her moving. The last thing I needed was to throw up in front of a customer.

Something wasn’t right. I’d put off going to the doctor, assuming whatever this was would pass, but it hadn’t. Just when I thought I was okay, it came back with a vengeance. Like really bad motion sickness.

A thought I’d been trying to suppress, to ignore, pushed forward and this time wouldn’t allow me to lock it away.

Could these symptoms be something else? Could I be . . .

God, I struggled to even think the word it seemed so insane, but could I be . . . pregnant?

We hadn’t been using protection since that first time . . .

No, this was crazy.

But I needed to consider the possibility, didn’t I?

Thirty minutes later, I’d shut the shop, and was in my bathroom at home, a pregnancy test upside down in my hand. The instructions had been straight forward, and even though I knew this was ridiculous, that there was no way I could actually be pregnant. My heart was pounding so hard I felt light-headed as I waited for the two minutes to count down.

The timer on my phone sounded and I sucked in a shaky breath, my belly in knots, even though I knew there was nothing to worry about. I shook my head. “Why the hell am I nervous?”

There was only one result this could be. I flipped it over . . . and froze solid.

Two pink stripes. There were two.

I stared at those two pink stripes, not sure what to do, what to think. Could I believe this? People got false positives all the time, didn’t they?

I checked my phone. It was nearly four. Screw it. I grabbed a cab to my doctor’s.

The waiting room was full when I walked in, but they said they could fit me in if I didn’t mind waiting. I should probably tell Zeke where I was. God, Zeke. What would I tell him?

There’s nothing to tell, not yet.

I pulled my phone from my bag. He’d acted in a way that did not say casual hookup or even fuck buddies last night. His behavior screamed possessiveness. I hadn’t known what to make of it, and I still didn’t. But he was concerned for me, so I pulled my phone out of my purse and fired off a quick text telling him where I was. He knew I hadn’t been feeling well, so me coming here shouldn’t set off any alarms.

Less than a minute later, my phone beeped.

How’d you get there?

Cab.

You should have called me.

I frowned down at my phone. I hadn’t lied last night—I wasn’t used to answering to anyone. I wasn’t stupid, and I wasn’t the kind of person to take risks, either. I’d taken a cab, which I’d caught on a busy street. He had nothing to worry about, and honestly, all this over-the-top macho possessive behavior was messing with my head. My head was already all over the place. Throwing this into the mix wasn’t fair. I wasn’t a fan of mixed signals. And he certainly gave me some last night. Casual hookups did not get jealous.