Help her. Yes. I want to help her. Love her. Protect her. Beg for forgiveness. Cherish her in the way she deserves and erase the pain I caused.
“I think…she’s pregnant.”
The world completely turns upside down. “What?”
“It could be Kensington’s, but I found a pregnancy test in the trashcan in Ainsley’s bathroom. And a shattered soap dish in the tub.”
My heart hammers in my chest, hard enough to break through my ribs. A pregnancy test! “I need to see it.”
“I left it where I found it.”
I turn and bolt up the stairs to the main bedroom. The bathroom smells like her. I find the shattered soap dish in the tub and retrace in my mind what her actions must have been. Then I check the trashcan. Sure enough, in the water closet, a pregnancy test lies on top of a mound of tissues. Tissues she must have cried in.
I punch the wall, leaving a dent. The pain in my knuckles is deserved, but it’s not enough. Not nearly enough.
The word pregnant shows in the tiny box. She’s pregnant. With our baby. My sweet Ainsley. The love of my life. The only woman capable of making me love, and we made a baby. When? The sex we’ve had here has been protected. Not a single slip up. I need to calm down so I can do the math. Think…
France! We had unprotected sex in France when I asked her to marry me.
I wipe snot from my nose, as more annoying tears fill my eyes. Since when do I cry? Since I treated the most wonderful woman in the world like she was expendable.
I open the cabinet in the bathroom and find a basket with women’s necessities. Tampons, pads, pregnancy tests.Celebrities,I shake my head.
She got the test from here. It had to have been her, not Kensie; although Kensie could have come to her, and they found this together. It could be Kensie’s.
If she wanted to keep it a surprise from Nathan, that shit is getting blown out the window right now. I text him.
Me: Is Kensie pregnant?
Yes, he’s on a plane, but I’m sure he has Wi-Fi.
Nathan: Not that I’m aware of. Hang on.
I wait, pacing the bathroom and inhaling the sweet scent that lingers from Ainsley.
My phone vibrates in my hand.
Nathan: No. Kensie says it’s about time you found out. She said some other stuff I won’t repeat and that she helped Ainsley get a ticket to Paris to see an old friend.
If Kensie were anyone else but Nathan’s fiancée, I’d kill her.
Me: What’s her flight?
Nathan: It left a half hour ago.
“Fuuuck!” I clench the phone so tight I’m surprised it doesn’t break. I have the urge to destroy this room and the phone, but that won’t help me.
New fucking plan. Get my girl and our baby and never let them go.
I don’t remember walking downstairs, only that I’m at the safe room again.
To Xavier, I say, “I need a private jet chartered to Paris now. Ainsley’s on her way to Paris.” I think to see her old friend Lowell.
She must be so scared—pregnant and alone, thinking I don’t want her and don’t remember. I would punch myself if I weren’t more concerned with getting to her.
“Pack up. We’re leaving now.”
He’s back in his chair, typing away. “I’ll be ready in five.”
