Lucy
Being pregnant sucked.
I didn’t care what all the movies and books said about it being a glorious and beautiful time of growth and new life, it was utter bullshit.
I had a backache. I’d already thrown up three times today and it was barely noon. I could be sure I’d throw up at least another three times. Whoever coined the term ‘morning sickness’ was full of shit and I would’ve sued them if I could.
I had heartburn hotter than Satan’s fireplace. My ankles were starting to look a little puffier than usual and I had to wear an elasticated waist.
Yes, I loved that Keltan’s child was growing inside me, and the way he protectively placed his hand over my bump at every moment, but the rest of it was bullshit.
Especially since I was pregnant everyone decided that I was now an invalid. Keltan included. I wasn’t allowed to do anything fun. Not blow things up. Not investigate the latest string of women gone missing from L.A. in disturbing numbers. I’d tried to, of course. But my editor had snitched on me. My editor who had been held in contempt of court for not divulging his sources gave into Keltan. The United States Court system he hadn’t bowed down to. But somehow he was my husband’s errand boy.
And my husband has taken me off the story.
Then he’d used emotional blackmail to keep me off when I protested.
“I watched you bleed out on the fucking street for a story,” he hissed. “I almost lost you. You’ve got my whole world inside you. My baby, your lungs, still drawin’ breath. So you’re not doin’ a story that could threaten that. You want to threaten that, Snow?
Obviously I’d look like an asshole if I continued doing the story behind his back.
So I relented.
Only because I’d gotten the next best reporter at the paper on it and giving me updates. Which was allowed since I wasn’t technically on the story. And also Keltan didn’t know. Which was good, since pregnancy was making him as insane as it was making me nauseous.
He’d tried to take heels from me. Heels.
At least Rosie was in it with me. We hadn’t planned being pregnant at the same time, but it was pretty fucking awesome. Or it would’ve been if I had someone to suffer with. But the bitch didn’t have any morning sickness and my hormones were making that in itself seem like a reason to cut off all ties and never see her again. And also snitch to Luke about her taking cases behind his back. But that would mean that I’d have to tell him Heath was involved. Then he’d kill Heath. Then Polly would get mad.
And no matter what was going on with them right now, Polly would care if Luke killed Heath. Because things would work out. They had to work out. Polly deserved it. And despite my low opinion of him currently, so did Heath.
Keltan had to go into work early for some emergency. Which meant I didn’t even have morning sex to perk me up. Now that was a good thing about being pregnant. My sex drive was ramped up like a thousand percent. And if there was one place where Keltan was willing to stop treating me like I was going to break, it was the bedroom.
I was tired, cranky from decaf coffee, vaguely thinking I’d be throwing up again soon and praying that my feet wouldn’t become too big for Manolos. I needed cheering up. So I was going to Polly’s.
I was thinking she might cheer me up. Since Duke had the biggest mouth in the office and he’d informed me—under only the smallest amount of duress—where Polly had been dropped off last night.
And no one had heard from her since.
Or Heath.
Fine-fucking-ly.
Before this, I was starting to get scared. That my beautiful, kind, caring, hopeless romantic sister was going to be the exception to the alpha male rule. The rule that said when an alpha male found it—the mystical it that lived in the woman perfectly imperfect for them, the mystical it that was that woman—he didn’t let go. He wouldn’t stop fighting.
I started to fear he’d stopped fighting.
That there would not be some sort of grand overcoming of the obstacles between them.
Granted they were a lot different than what we’d seen, but Heath loved her. It was painfully obvious. And just plain painful.
Because it wasn’t a beautiful, storybook kind of love. No, it was the kind of love that you saw chewing at his very insides. Like leading up to the wedding. Polly’s short marriage. Her divorce. Her disappearance to Europe. Her reappearance.
And when I saw my sister, I saw the pain there too. Nothing that had ever been on that face of hers before, despite being ‘in love’ more times than I could count. She’d been in love but never truly miserable until Heath. Which meant she’d never been in love until Heath.