She seemed pale, though. More so than when they’d first met, and he hated the idea that he might be the cause of it. Shouldn’t be surprised, though. That came back to him. To what was in him. A boy that no one could love, a man who was fundamentally flawed down to his very genetics.
That black blood filtering through his veins. The image he could never quite shake.
He saw her sitting out on the terrace and walked through the room, out the door, to join her. “Good morning,” he said.
“Hi.”
“Ready for the doctor to come?”
“Yes. It seems pretty extravagant to have her do a house call.”
“Until you’re ready for the story to break, we need to keep it as low key and close to home as possible. I assume you aren’t ready?”
“No. I haven’t told my father yet.”
“Have you spoken to him?”
She nodded. “Very briefly. He’s worried. I told him... I told him that I was just enjoying a little bit of fun. He said...” She blinked rapidly. “He said that was fine. That it was about time I did. Why is he so supportive of me? Even when I make such stupid mistakes?”
“Why shouldn’t he be?”
“I don’t know. I guess it would make more sense if he’d just get mad.”
“Why? You’re a grown woman. You can make your own decisions.”
“I’m not sure if I make good ones.”
A maid appeared in the doorway. “Dr. Sands is here.”
“Great. Send her in,” Alex said.
Dr. Sands, Rachel’s doctor, whom he hadn’t met yet, came out onto the terrace smiling. It felt so strange to have a doctor standing there. To know that this was about the baby.
Sometimes—well, all the time—it was so much easier not to think about the baby.
But then, if there was no baby, Rachel would have no reason to be there.
That made his throat tighten with a strange kind of terror.
“Hi, Rachel. Shall we go upstairs and get started?”
Rachel looked at him, her eyes wide.
“Are you afraid I’ll come?” he asked. “Or afraid I won’t?”
She lifted a shoulder. “I’m not sure.”
“I’m going to come.”
“Okay.”
* * *
A loose summer dress and a sheet were Rachel’s accessories for the appointment. She knew it was technically too early to need another appointment. She was close to eight weeks, but there was little point in checking things out. Except she was nervous.
About everything. Afraid everything was fine. Afraid it wasn’t.
And on the verge of losing her mind completely. The pressure in her chest had built to a maddening degree. So that just breathing every day was a chore.