Page 26 of Princess and the Player
“Stop, please,” I snap.
Tentatively, he lifts his hand to touch my hand, and I pull away.
He rubs his eyes with his palms. “Have you ever wanted something even though you knew it was bad for you? It was like that for me, and I knew in my gut you were going to break me. Someday down the road, you’d wake up and realize that—what the hell?”
Madonna’s opening chords to “Papa Don’t Preach” blare from my bedroom. Cece sashays into the den slowly, a hairbrush in her hand as she sways her hips and sings the lyrics about a girl who tells her father she’s pregnant and wants to keep the baby. In her other hand is one of the pregnancy sticks. She holds it high, dancing to the beat with her eyes closed, a triumphant smile on her face. Brogan pops into the den, gets behind her, and does Madonna’s “Vogue” dance, then the Running Man.
My stomach pitches.
I make it to the couch and fall on my ass, gasping as I stare up at the ceiling, my whole world realigning.
I’d convinced myself I wasn’t.
Impossible ...
It can’t be.
Stay calm. Breathe in; breathe out.
One step at a time. One step at a time ...
Brogan rushes over and pulls me into his lap and rocks me as he murmurs in my ear that he’s sorry they’ve been teasing me, that they’ll support me no matter what I do, that they’re my family forever and ever, that we made a vow to stick together, that he loves me, that she loves me.
“Cece. Stop,” Brogan yells.
She opens her eyes and sees me and Brogan, then Edward. An angry squeal comes as she heads his way. “What the hell? No! You aren’t allowed here!” She bares her teeth. “If you don’t leave this instant, I’m going to stab you in the dick—with these.” She holds up the hairbrush and the stick. “Hear me good, Edward. I put up with your whiny ass for years, but I am not a nice person. I will destroy you. I will grind this stick in your balls, then take a picture of you writhing on the floor. I’ll add it to my burn book with happiness in my cold, cold, dead heart!”
He backs up. “What the hell ...”
“Just go, Edward, before she murders you.” I push myself to standing.
He turns to me. “Who’s pregnant?”
I grab a tissue off the end table and wipe my face. I hadn’t realized I was crying. Dammit. “Apparently me.”
“Is it mine?”
I flinch at the eagerness in his voice.
Cece pokes the end of the brush into his chest. “No, Einstein! Does she look five months pregnant to you?”
A sharp knock bangs from my door, and we all jerk. What now?
“That’s my Chinese delivery,” Cece says with a grunt as she takes Edward by the arm and drags him down the hallway to the front door. “Time for you to skedaddle. Don’t ever come here again. If I see you, I will break all your fingers—feel me? You’ll never draw again.”
They disappear into the foyer.
I hear the door opening, a long pause, and then rustling sounds. I picture Cece shoving him out the door. Then comes her sugary voice: “Well, bless, sorry you had to see me throw out the trash! Tuck Avery as I live and breathe, and I thought it was just noodles. What a surprise. Look how handsome you are! The perfect catnip.” Five bucks says she has her hand over her heart.
“Um, thanks?” comes his husky voice.
Send him far, far away,I mentally channel.
“I’m Cece,” she coos.
“Nice to meet you.” There’s a low rumble of a laugh, then: “Is Francesca here?”
I groan. Will this night ever end?
