As we head towards my family estate on Long Island, where the party is held, I ask the driver to stop twice due to morning sickness, which really should be named all-the-fucking-time sickness. I already had to cancel an important work meeting earlier this week because of puking my guts out. I don’t want to cancel tonight as well.
“Is everything okay, Miss Haisley?” Osmond asks, worry evident in his voice.
“Um, yeah, I think I ate something that isn’t sitting right with me.”
As we continue down the road, I press my fingers to my temples, trying to will away the nausea. Thatshouldhave been the first clue I was pregnant when it started weeks ago. But no, it took a visit to my doctor’s to even suspect that possibility.
I can feel Osmond’s concerned gaze in the rearview mirror, but I don’t have the energy to reassure him right now. He’s always been this way—on edge when something feels off. I guess it’s part of the job when you’re employed by a family such as mine—a family with more money than they can spend in their lifetime.
I take a deep breath, trying to calm my stomach. “Seriously, I’ll be fine. Just need a minute.”
Osmond nods but doesn’t say anything. I bet he’s calculating how long it’ll take us to get to the estate. He’s never been the type to push or question me, but I can tell he’s itching to get me there. Ignoring him, I add another coat of that same red lipstick I wore on Halloween.
I wonder what happened to the note that I left behind, because he never called.
It takes us another thirty minutes of awkward silence before we’re outside the main entrance of my family home. As expected, there are beautiful lights and other decorations that welcome you in. My mom loves to decorate for every occasion.
Hendrix and Hunter, my youngest two brothers born only eleven months apart, are standing by the door waiting for us. Hendrix, the more outgoing of the two, spots the car first and waves energetically. Hunter stands a few steps behind his Irish twin, his arms crossed over his chest, but there’s a soft smile tugging at his lips.
As the car comes to a stop, Osmond gets out to open my door, and I step out slowly. The fresh air helps the queasiness in my stomach, but I still feel awful.
“Hey sis,” Hendrix calls as he jogs toward me. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost. Everything okay?”
Hunter stays where he is, eyes scanning me with curious intensity. It’s always been this way with him. I hope he won’t notice my pregnancy before I have a chance to tell my family.
“Yeah, just feeling a bit off today,” I say, forcing a smile. “It’s nothing to worry about. I bet I’ll be fine after a few glasses of bubbly.”
Hendrix looks concerned for a heartbeat but then shrugs it off. “Well, I’m sure Mom has you covered. She ordered a shit ton of champagne from France for the party alone.”
Normally, I would be the first to have a glass, but I can’t in my current situation. Still, I smile at my brother, pretending everything is okay.
When the door closes behind us, I hear music and chatter from the other side of the house. The smell of food fills the air, mingling with the faint scent of flowers that Mom always insists on having at every event. All of it makes me feel sick once again.
“Hey, you sure you’re okay?” Hunter’s voice is low, a little too soft for my liking, suggesting he senses something is off.
I turn around, forcing my shoulders to relax. “Yeah, Hunt. I’m fine.”
He doesn’t look convinced. “Something’s up. You’re acting weirder than usual.” He takes a step closer. “You know you can talk to me, right?”
“I know,” I say quietly, forcing my voice to sound steady. “I’ll be fine, trust me. Today’s been such a long day, and I’m not in the mood for a big celebration, I guess.”
“Well, if you need anything, I’m right here.”
“Thanks, little brother.”
He gives me one last look, but he doesn’t say anything, leaving me alone. I can’t help but wonder how long I’ll be able to keep up this charade.
It doesn’t take long for my dad to spot me. His expression softens as he starts walking toward me, signaling someone to my right to come over.
A deep voice answers, smooth and achingly familiar. The sound freezes me in place.No. It can’t be. There’s no way.
But when I turn and get the first glimpse of the person in question, all hope of denial slips away. My stomach tightens as I watch him approach, his stride confident and effortless, exactly as I remembered.
Fuck. It’s reallyhim.
Those deep brown eyes I’ve been dreaming about since Halloween meet mine. For a second or two, time seems to stop, the world shrinking to this moment. Then his pupils dilate, and his chest rises with a sharp breath, confirming what I already know—he recognizes me, too.
It can’t be. But it’s him.My masked stranger. The man I thought I would never see again. The man better known as the father of my unborn child. My hand instinctively moves over my stomach with that thought. His eyes follow the movement until he quickly glances away.
