“Okay, I’ll stop now. All I’m saying is that Damion is not the worst baby-daddy you could get. It could have been Ren … or D …”
I add a scowl to those killer eyes.
“Okay, I truly shut up now.”
I sight. She’s right – it could be worse.
Kiara lets me go, takes the tests, and gives them one last look just to make sure.
“Yep, you’re still pregnant.” I roll my eyes at her as she throws the tests in the dustbin.
“I’ll make us some coffee.” She disappears and comes back with two steaming mugs. I take it gladly, needing a caffeine boost right about now, and gulp down a big sip. I almost spit it over her.
“It’s tea.” I want to throw her with the cup.
“You can’t drink coffee when you’re in your err.. condition. So you’re stuck with tea, for the next nine months or so.” She goes to the laptop and begins typing and searching.
“What you doing?” I go to stand behind her and try to drink the stupid tea.
“I’m looking for a doctor.”
“Why, you sick?”
“No, silly, for you. We have to get a doctor to tell us what to do and give you all the thingies you need.” She’s talking as if she’s part of my pregnancy and I smile, knowing she will be there for me like always.
“Here … this one sounds legit.” She types in some details, and just like that, we find Dr. Burden – my new OB-GYN.
“All we need now is to book an appointment. It says here that your first appointment must only be when you’re around 8 weeks.” She looks at me with questions in her eyes.
“Do it about three weeks from now.” She types again.
“Okay, got it … your appointment is on the 21st at 9. Damion will be back by then. Are you gonna take him with you?”
“Eh, maybe … we’ll see.”
“You know I love you, bitch.” She hugs me again and we cry a little more. I’m worn out after the night I just had so I fall down on my bed, taking Pan into my arms.
“For now, I’m going to let the baby rest and teach it to like Vampire Diaries.”
Date = 8 January
Place = Rome (Damion’s penthouse)
POV – Mel
“I can get used to you being with me all the time,” he sighs while gently kneading a plump nipple between his fingers.
“Me too.” This must be what heaven feels like … me lying between his legs in a huge bubble-filled bath, his hand cupping a grateful breast, giving it the attention it hungers for. I stare through the huge windows at the magnificent view of Rome’s skyline.
“Don’t you regret not running away?” Not at all because I love you. I hear the words in my head. I love him … but it’s so much more … the intensity of what I feel for him is so much more.
Unconditional all-consuming love.
“I think it’s too late for that.” We’re going to have a baby. “You’re stuck with me, pall.” And the little one that will arrive in a few months.
“You said D told you about my past … my baggage.” I can feel his muscles pulling tight. How heavy that baggage must be.
“We will deal with those over time.” I mean it. And now that I got a glimpse of what I’m up against, at least I know what’s hiding in his shadows. His body is still rigid.
“Mel, that shit, I can’t put it on you!” My heart cringes and my hand moves to cover my belly. Have I a surprise for him – we have about 8 months to deal with it.
“Well, you’ll have to. We don’t really have a choice anymore,” I speak my mind.
“Huh?” Hell, do I tell him about the two pink lines now … or shall I wait to scare the bejeezus out of him later?
Later.
It’s not just something you blabber out in a bathtub. It needs some planning.
I’ve planned it for the whole flight here. Even longer. But I still don’t have any idea how to spill the beans.
“You’ll have to talk to me … you can’t go forward if you don’t face the past first. I need you to do this, for us … eh for me and the … ” I stop my blabbering mouth just in time. Frick. I need to seriously watch my words.
I’m not sure what the feeling in the pit of my stomach is, but I’ll have to investigate it sometime. However, if I have to hypothesize it, it feels like fear. The fear of losing him. The fear of his reaction to becoming a dad. The fear of rejection. And most of all, the fear that he won’t want this baby. What if he asks me to get rid of it? I can never do that.
“But I don’t want you to regret anything later … I’m telling you to walk away now.” Does he want me to go? Is this a way of getting rid of me?
“I’m big enough to make up my own mind … I don’t need your permission to date you.” I’m confused by my own words. But my emotions are not at all stable at this moment.
“Eh … I think you sort of do,” he corrects me.
“Ug, do you want me to go?” I can feel his muscles strain underneath me. I hold my breath.
“Do you want to go?” His voice breaks.
“No,” I whisper. He’s still for a bit.
“Mel, I’m scared. It’s hard for me to admit it, but I’m so fucking afraid of losing you.”