[Kendall]
Camden looks at me, shocked, his face paling, and then he just stands up and walks out of the room. He doesn’t say a word to me, and I don’t follow.
My head is spinning from the drugs and the trauma and the shock of Jimmy telling me that I’m pregnant.
He said there was no way to tell how far along I am without ultrasound equipment, but I haven’t been with anyone else for years, and I know the baby I’m carrying is Camden’s. He must know it, too, because he hasn’t questioned me.
I was happy at first, almost felt giddy.
Jimmy was just looking at me with intense blue eyes.
“Are you okay?” he asked.
“What?” I felt out of it from the drugs, like this might be a dream I was having.
“Do you want to… take care of it? I have my ways,” he said mysteriously, and I shook my head, shocked.
“No. No, I want… I want the baby,” I said finally.
He nodded. “Then I’ll leave these prenatal vitamins. Take them every day, and do your best to keep things down. I’ll leave some nausea medication, too.”
“The drugs you gave me… are they bad for the baby?” I asked, worried, and Jimmy shook his head.
“They won’t hurt the baby, don’t worry.”
I thought to myself that I was going to take it easy on them, just in case.
“Prenatal vitamins, one a day,” he said, taking a small bottle out of his bag. I wondered how often he dealt with pregnant women that he just had it in his bag. Then he took out another, smaller bottle. “Nausea medication, as needed, but no more than one every six hours,” he warned.
I just nodded, still shocked.
“Are… are you sure?” I asked.
“That’s why I had you pee in a cup,” he said. “To make sure.” He took it out of the trash to show me. It said “pregnant” in the window, and I lost my breath for a moment.
“Don’t… don’t tell Camden, okay?” I asked.
Jimmy smiled. “Absolutely not. Doctor
atient confidentiality,” he promised me.
But then Camden had asked me all those questions and the drugs had me loopy and I’d just… told him. I couldn’t help myself.
What am I going to do now? What will Camden want me to do? Will he ask me to get rid of it? I told him that he didn’t have to do anything, and I mean that.
He doesn’t have to have anything to do with me or the baby, I’ll take care of it on my own if I have to. I can be a single mother.
Of course, I would prefer that we be together like it’s been for the past six weeks. We’ve been falling in love, haven’t we?
I have been, and I wish he has been, too, but I can’t be sure. It’s not exactly like we’ve talked about it, and Camden hasn’t ever been a one-woman man. I know about his proclivities with women in the area, and even though it makes me sick to think of him with someone else, I can’t assume that he’ll be with just me.
And I’m not the type of woman to be able to deal with my man with someone else. I know that a lot of women do, but I just can’t imagine it. It would make me feel horrible to know that Camden was seeing someone else, even now when he’s not mine.
I can’t imagine tolerating it if we were married.
Would Camden marry me?
I don’t know. I don’t know anything unless I ask him, so I get up and walk to the door, looking out onto the terrace where he’s pacing around with a drink in his hand and an unlit cigarette in his mouth. He doesn’t even look toward the door.
God, what will I even say to him? I’m sorry? How can I be sorry that I got pregnant? It’s not like it’s my fault.
I hadn’t exactly thought to bring my birth control while we were on the run like this. And it’s not like he ever offered to wear a condom.
I stand at the door for a long moment before I slide it open. Camden freezes, his back to me.
“Camden,” I call softly, and he still doesn’t look at me. “What do you want me to do?”
He’s quiet for a long moment, and when he speaks, his voice is hoarse. “I just want you to rest,” he says finally, and that’s not the answer I wanted at all.
I brace my back against the sliding glass door, looking at him, my arm in a sling, not moving.
“Just go back to bed, Kendall,” he commands.
“No,” I say defiantly. “We need to talk about this.”
Camden sighs, running a hand through his hair before he finally turns to face me. He looks tired, exhausted even.
“I can’t talk about this,” he says. “Not now. I need to think.”
“Camden, I-”
“Please, Kendall,” he says quietly, and I can’t force him to speak to me, so I slowly walk back inside, tears burning at the backs of my eyes.
I wish that I could shower, but I’d need Camden’s help and I can’t ask for it, not now. Instead, I walk into the kitchen and get myself a bottle of water, drinking it all down greedily before throwing the empty bottle in the trash.
I sigh heavily and head back to the bedroom, sliding back under the covers. I guess the drugs work well because I finally drift off, and when I wake up, it’s because Camden has stumbled into the room. He crawls under the covers fully clothed, still wearing his jeans and T-shirt, and he smells like whiskey.
But he puts his arms around me, slides his hand down to the soft swell of my belly.
“You’re really having my baby, principessa?” he asks, his voice slightly slurred.
“Yes,” I say quietly, not sure what he wants to hear.
He’s quiet for so long I worry that he’s dropped off to sleep, but then he finally speaks.
“I’ll protect you both for as long as I’m alive,” he says fiercely, kissing my neck, nipping at my earlobe, and when I turn over, he kisses me hard on the mouth, hungry.
I kiss him back eagerly but he pulls away, shaking his head as if to clear it.
“Not tonight, principessa. You’re hurt.”
“I feel fine,” I say, but I know that’s probably because of the drugs and he’s right.
“Not tonight,” he repeats, pressing his forehead against mine.
I feel tears pricking at my eyes again, and this time I let them fall. Camden cups my face, running his thumbs down my cheeks and being careful of the bandage on my cheekbone.
“Everything’s going to be all right, principessa,” he says, and I can’t help but believe him. I just wish I knew what “all right” looks like for us.