Oh, my god. What would that mean? What happens then? In my fantasy world, my stupid body would just know better than to let any sperm that isn’t Mateo’s get through, but since reality is such an asshole, that isn’t how it works. It literally didn’t even occur to me that this could be a possibility. I’ve been so lost in wedding planning and sheer happiness that I haven’t had many thoughts to spare for my time in Vegas.
Now Mateo takes a seat on the edge of the bed, but he doesn’t touch me. Now that feels important. Now that feels like a crumbling cinder block in our impenetrable wall.
How can I be so happy one minute, and wondering if my whole life is falling apart the next?
“What if it isn’t?” I finally ask.
“It couldn’t be Rafe’s, right?”
My stomach twists that he even has to ask me that. “No. I told you, it never went that far.”
“So it could only be Vince’s.” Strange how this disappoints him. One might think it would be a good thing that there are less potential fathers to your fiancée’s baby, but I get the distinct impression from his tone that he would much prefer it be Rafe’s, if those were the only two options.
I cover my face with my hands, the shame flooding back over me. I thought it was gone, but apparently Mateo had been the dam holding it at bay for me, and now it’s collapsed. Now I’m a pregnant woman who has no idea who the father of her baby is.
“I didn’t want to have to ask you about this,” Mateo begins. “But how many times—?
“Five.”
It all comes back now. Flashes of Vince on top of me, hating me but taking me anyway. There was no love left, but he still wouldn’t let go. If Rafe hadn’t intervened, I don’t think he would’ve let me leave at all.
What if he never lets go? What if he somehow finds out about my pregnancy through the channels and he pieces together the timeline? Even if it turns out he isn’t the father, this is the worst possible timing. He’ll think there’s a chance he is. More than a chance—I told him Mateo wasn’t allowed to get me pregnant. I didn’t tell him we didn’t use protection in the Bahamas—it was none of his business. If Vince finds out I’m pregnant, he will believe he’s the father, whether he is or not.
Now I understand why Mateo isn’t excited.
It took me a little longer to get it, and I probably haven’t even thought of everything Mateo has, but now I understand.
This is a disaster.
Mateo sighs as I start crying, then he tugs his jacket off and drapes it across the foot of the bed. He lies down with me and pulls me into his arms.
“I’m so sorry,” I murmur into his chest, when I finally stop crying long enough to speak.
“None of this is your fault, Mia,” he states, still holding me. “You don’t have anything to be sorry for.”
“But I’m still sorry.”
Rubbing my back, he murmurs, “I know.”
“I begged him not to…”
His voice is a little firmer now. “I know, Mia. Don’t worry about it. We’ll deal with it.”
I don’t know what that means and my brain is too full to ask. Instead I curl up on our bed with his arms wrapped around me and pray for this to be a false alarm.
—
Nobody speaks after we leave the doctor’s office.
Well, Mateo and Adrian speak briefly, but no one speaks to me. Mateo did most of the speaking at the doctor’s office, too. He was the one who asked questions, and eventually the doctor realized I was the body, but he was the boss, and stopped addressing me altogether. Ordinarily I don’t mind that at all—even in this instance I wouldn’t mind, if Mateo wanted this pregnancy.
But I’m not sure he does.
So while he and the rest of his world treat this as his problem, like it normally would be, I’m feeling a little differently. I’m feeling like maybe this is my problem.
I hope not. Because this is going to be one hell of a problem to have.
I’m telling myself not to overreact, that he’ll come down. Right now he and Adrian are double-checking the simple math, but everyone has concluded the same thing—that I was in Vegas when I got pregnant.
Mateo set an appointment for next week for a paternity test. He wanted one today, but the doctor said it’s too soon, that we have to wait one more week. I peeked out from under my cloak of invisibility on that one, asking if it was safe. The doctor assured me it would be, that it was non-invasive, they would just draw a blood sample from me and the “potential fathers” and they could run an accurate test. Mateo explained that he’s going to share DNA markers either way, since the other potential father is a relative of his. The doctor pretended that was totally normal.