Page 90 of Scarred Redemption

The way he hung around in the hallway was as if worried I would do something stupid. I felt awkward, ready to knock on the door. With a shake of my head, I opened it slowly.

Isabel was sitting up in bed, the covers pulled over her and looking highly irritated. She certainly didn’t like being told what to do.

I closed the door behind me with a soft click, as if I was terrified any loud noises would bother her.

“I won’t break, you know.”

“I’m not actually certain about that. I heard you were caught with peanut butter all over your face.”

“I was not.” She yanked a pillow from the bed, tossing it at me.

I ducked while snatching it from the air. “You’re sick. You need to rest and aren’t supposed to become excited.”

“Did the doctor tell you I was sick?”

“You did pass out.”

She seemed exasperated, yanking on the covers. “My blood pressure is a little high and he’s freaking out about it.”

“How high?”

As suspected, she didn’t want to tell me. “One seventy-five over one twenty.”

She made the statement quickly, as if doing so was going to make it untrue. “That’s too high.”

“Which is why I’m on medication. Okay?”

“That’s why you fainted?” I moved closer, trying my very best not to drag her from the bed and either wrap my arms around her or jerk her over my knee for a stern spanking. I chose to sit on the bed instead.

“Well, that didn’t help.” She really didn’t want to share what was wrong with her.

“What’s going on, my angel? You can’t keep secrets from me.”

“I’m shocked you didn’t hogtie the doctor, thrashing him until he told you.”

“There’s always tomorrow.”

I’d never seen her so flustered.

“Isabel. Talk to me. Whatever is going on, we will get through it together. As a family.”

The way she looked at me tore at my heart. “Are we family?”

“I can easily say we are. Just please tell me what’s wrong. I will find the best specialists. I will fly you the world’s most qualified clinics. Whatever it takes.”

A slow smile crossed her face. “I’m not sick other than that I need to watch my blood pressure, Maxsim.”

“Then what? I don’t understand.”

She licked her lips. “I’m pregnant.”

The direct look she gave me held several emotions, but was entirely confrontational. I was so charged from anxiety and anger that the news was as if I was watching a movie and nothing that would affect any aspect of my life. The shock pushed me into silence.

“You don’t want the baby.” The defiance in her voice was reduced to a ragged whisper full of emotions.

“You’re pregnant.” If by way of repeating what she’d told me I was hoping to achieve some sense of calm, then I was a fool. In moments of emptiness throughout my life, I’d only wondered once about the possibility of expanding my family. I’d dared not allow the concept into my mind.

And why?