Cheeky Romance (Billionaire Dads)

HADYN

The only thing worse than drunkenly marrying your prissy childhood friend in a Vegas wedding is waking up the next morning and hearing she forgot about it.

I stand in my office, alone and fuming. Vanya’s perfume is all over the freaking place, taking her shape like a ghost who just won’t let me forget. The chai’s still steaming on the desk where Priscilla left it and the silence is a ringing bell in my ear.

I’m usually a patient guy. I can laugh off almost anything, but my day’s already gone to crap thanks to that little gift from my father via Will and his suits-with-the-briefcase entourage.

The last thing I needed or wanted was Vanya storming in and talking about divorce when she doesn’t even remember marrying me.

And I know she doesn’t.

If she did, those beautiful brown eyes would not have been filled with so much accusation.

I share blame in what happened that night. I’m not running from it. I’ve always been attracted to Vanya and a part of me was curious about her. About what it would be like if she ever let her guard—and her drawers—down around me.

But that’s not the point.

The way she was staring at me, as if I poisoned her drink, dragged her to the altar and then tied her to my bed afterwards—yeah, that’s not going to fly.

I’ve already got my dad thinking I’m a complete waste of space. I need Vanya to acknowledge her part in what happened in Vegas.

“Vanya!” I march out of the office.

She’s halfway to the elevator. At the sound of her name, she whirls around and stares at me as if the sight of my face makes her want to jump on the race track and get mowed down by a turbo-car.

“You came all the way here to talk. Let’s talk,” I demand.

“I’ve already said what needed to be said.” She uses that ‘I know better than you’ tone that used to drive me up the wall when we were kids.

Vanya Beckford is a chronic control freak. Even back in the day, the woman was a pain in the butt. She never let anyone else be the ‘seek’ in hide and seek. And tag? Forget about it. She’d make up her own rules to win every game.

“We need to talk.” I fold my arms over my chest.

I don’t miss the way her big brown eyes drop to my biceps before shooting back up. She might be containing herself now, but she had a real great time rubbing her hands over my muscles in the hotel room.

Heat flashes through my body.

Damn.

I can’t get distracted. I need to keep my cool if I’m going to clash wits with Vanya. This woman is pricklier than a sword made of thumbtacks.

She lets out an aggravated sigh. “It won’t change the facts. And the fact is, I can’t be married to you. Go back inside, sign those papers and send them to my office. It’s really not that complicated so I don’t think we need further discussion.”

“I’m pretty tired of people ordering me around today, Van.” I swoop in so close that I can see each individual eyelash and the lighter brown hues in her eyes.

Sure, she might match me in stubbornness, but I’ve got her in height and pure testosterone. I don’t like losing any more than she does, and I’m not going to concede this time.

She purses her plump lips and gives me a seething stare. Problem is, she’s stunning even when she scowls. It’s pretty freaking obvious why she’s such a big shot in the modeling industry. There’s no angle, no face she could pull, that would make her less beautiful.

She’s the kind of classy that money simply cannot buy. And I’ve seen women try. Butt implants. Boob implants. Extensions and Botox. Primping and prodding and shopping for designer clothes just to clamor for an inch of the elegance that Vanya has in her pinky toe.

She’s tall, which is why my height is only a slight intimidation for her. And she’s curvy. Big breasts and thick legs and hips that demand a man’s touch.

Folks in the magazines call her ‘plus-sized’ as if it’s some kind of rarity. I don’t see why. There’s a hell of a lot more people in the world with meat on their bones than there are size zeroes.

But Vanya’s height and confidence aren’t the only things that draw the eye to her. Her skin is a glossy, sun-kissed brown that looks like she’s glowing from the inside out. Her face is soft at some angles and all sharp lines in others. I have no idea how she freaking does it.

The long, brunette tresses currently sailing to her shoulders suits her. A mullet would suit her. The woman is just that impressive.

Soft skin. Full lips. Brown eyes that can convince a man to wrap an anchor around his leg and drop himself into the sea. Hell, I could go on and on.

I won’t.

But I could.

Vanya adjusts the strap of her fancy bag. “Look, Hadyn, I don’t have time for a stare-down. Juniper already threatened to drag me to the doctor if I don’t make this appointment and—”

“You’re going to the doctor?” My annoyance disappears like a cup of chai latte when Vanya’s had a particularly long day. I swoop closer to her. “What’s wrong? Are you okay? Why didn’t you tell me you weren’t feeling well?”

“I’m fine. I’ll make a note saying as much.”

“You mean you’re going to forge a doctor’s note?”

She scrunches her nose. “Forge makes it sound illegal…”

“If Juniper thinks you need to see a doctor, then you’re going to see a doctor.”

Everyone close to Vanya knows how afraid she is of hospitals. Juniper wouldn’t insist unless it was important.

Vanya squares her shoulders, lifts a hand and pokes her manicured finger into my chest, punctuating each word. “Now. Why. Is. That. Any. Of. Your. Business?”

“Because I just made it my business.” I capture her hand and bring it to my lips. “Wifey.”

She grits her teeth. “Screw off, Hadyn.”

“Luckily, my schedule’s free and my bed is empty, so I can have you stripped and satisfied in…” I check my watch. “Depending on traffic? Twenty minutes.”

“Stripped, maybe. But satisfied?”

I ease closer to her, throwing her personal space to the dogs. “You were singing a different tune in Vegas, darlin’. But if you want, I’ll happily jog your memory.”

She snarls at me. “Go find some girl with daddy issues and bad taste to waste her time with you.”

“Sorry. My type is the ‘get drunk and marry me in toilet paper’ kind of girl. And I already put a ring on her.”

Her eyes narrow to slits.

Even that I could kill you face would probably sell a million products.

I tilt my head and study her. “It’s been a while since I’ve been inside a hospital. We should go together.”

“I’m not going anywhere with you.”

“And I totally respect that.” Without hesitation, I bend down, cup her back and sweep her up in one smooth motion.

Vanya’s mouth falls open and she stares at me as if I just tied her to a tree and let a hive of killer bees free from their nests.

“Hadyn Micheal Mulliez, put me down this instant!”

“What’s wrong? Was your last boyfriend too lazy to pick you up like this?”

She fumes.

And I know I’m right.

The little punk.

I give Vanya a toss so I can adjust her better in my arms. “Baby, you’re lucky I didn’t fling you over my shoulder like a potato sack. You got upgraded because I’m a considerate guy.”

“You’re a ruffian.”

“Ooh.” I make a slurping sound. “You know I love when you flash that vocabulary.”

She balls her fingers into fists. “I’m going to mess up that pretty face.”

“You think I’m pretty?” I bat my eyes twice as I turn us sideways so we can fit in the elevator.

Vanya glares at me.

I give her a satisfied smile back.

She’s soft in my arms. Her hip is right against my chest and the silkiness of her dual-toned maxi dress is slipping against my fingers. I can’t help but remember how I carried her into our hotel room, just like this, after the wedding ceremony.

That night, she hadn’t been scowling or sneering at me. Her fierce mouth had been glued on mine, sucking on my bottom lip like she wanted the last of the flavor from a lollipop.

“I can’t believe I got married to you,” she mumbles, giving up the fight and slinging an arm around my neck.

“Same here.”

Vanya isn’t like my usual hook-ups. For one, she’s a friend. An old friend. We’ve known each other since I was a kid. And sure, I’ve wanted to part those sexy thighs for years, but only because she’s got a body that would keep my hands full. Plus, she’s strung so tight that unwinding her would be making the world a better place.

She scoffs as if she’s genuinely offended. “You should feel lucky that you were ever married to me.”

“Newsflash, Van. We’re still married. Not past tense. Present.”

“Not for long,” she mumbles.

The elevator doors slide apart and I stride into the lobby, ignoring the stares we’re getting. Vanya’s so ticked off at me she doesn’t seem to notice either. Or maybe she’s so used to people staring that she’s immune to it.

She tightens her hold on my neck. “Are you saying you want to stay married?”

I snort. “No way. Marrying you would be too much drama.”

“Drama?” Her eyebrows pop high.

“You’re high maintenance.” I turn us sideways again so I don’t bump her pretty red heels into the door. “Way more trouble than it’s worth.”

Like I expected, her eyes gleam with rage. She digs her fingers into my shoulder. “Just because I’m not one of your little conquests who thinks she needs a big, strong man to save her doesn’t mean I’m high maintenance. It means I have standards.”

I set her on her feet and sink my hand into my pocket, fishing for my car keys.

Vanya’s free, but she doesn’t even notice because she’s too busy yelling at me. “You really think you’re all that, don’t you? Sorry to break it to you, Hadyn, but you’re not God’s gift to women. You’re a menace.”

“And you’re a menace’s wife.” I open the door for her and nudge her inside. “What does that make you? Mrs. Menace?”

“I’m not your wife.”

“I have a marriage certificate that says otherwise, sweetheart.”

“I don’t remember signing that.” She falls into her chair and looks straight ahead.

“No?” I dive into the convertible, grab the seatbelt near her head and stare into her eyes. My voice dropping an octave, I murmur, “Not even what happened after the wedding?”

“N-no.”

“Need a refresher?” My eyes dip to her lips. I remember how soft they’d been against mine and, suddenly, there’s a throbbing in my pants and a heat climbing down my spine.

Her gaze crashes into mine.

I hold my head steady.

The space between us is crackling with the kind of energy I feel when I’m on the race track pushing speeds that would get me killed. Lethal, heart-pounding.

She slams both hands on my chest. “I do not.”

Her voice is shaking and she can’t maintain eye contact.

Pride swells from somewhere deep in my chest, probably the part that’s more caveman than gentleman.

“You’re starting to remember, aren’t you?”

“I’m going to smack that smug smile off your face,” Vanya threatens.

I laugh and bend over her so I can fix her seatbelt. Her chest is in my face and it takes a whole lot of restraint not to give those juicy melons the same love I did in Vegas. Instead, I keep it respectful and click the seatbelt in place.

Vanya slides her dark hands over the belt. “I want you to know that I’m only going along with this because I’m starting to feel nauseous again.”

Alarmed, I slam her door shut and hurry around to my side.

“Did you eat breakfast?” I ask, when I slide behind the wheel.

She scrunches her nose.

I growl at her. “Van, you can’t skip breakfast. It’s the most important meal of the day.”

“I’m too busy to eat.”

“Says the connoisseur of healthy meals.” I tap my fingers on the steering wheel. “Aren’t you the one with a franchise of bestselling cookbooks?”

She groans and tilts her head back. “Do not remind me or I might throw up again.”

“I thought sales were good?”

“They were. Until ‘experts’ started questioning whether a woman like me should be talking about health.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean? A woman like you?”

“Apparently, only skinny people can recommend healthy meals.”

“Damn it. I’ll sue them all.”

“You’ve tried that.” She chuckles. “Aren’t you tired of wasting your dad’s money on lawyers?”

“He’s got more than enough. He can spare it.” I reach out and press my hand to her forehead.

She stiffens. “What are you doing?”

“Seeing if you have a fever.”

“That’s not medically effective.” She tries to bat my hand away.

I keep it on her forehead. “You don’t feel too hot. You said you threw up earlier? Maybe it’s a stomach flu.”

“Or maybe you gave me some kind of disease in Vegas.”

I scowl at her. “You think you’re funny?”

Her lips twitch.

“What I did to you that night was dirty.” I lower my voice. “But I’m clean, baby. I got the medical records to prove it.”

“Hm.”

I pull the car into a drive thru.

“One chai latte,” I say into the window, “for my wife.”

I see Vanya’s hand coming at me from a mile away and I capture it, rubbing her knuckles. Turning to the intercom, I explain, “She likes to fight with me. It’s her love language.”

“Hadyn!” Vanya pushes my name through gritted teeth.

There’s a squawk from the intercom and then an excited voice shrieks, “Oh my gosh! Are you Vanya Beckford? Like the Vanya Beckford?”

I swing my head around and give Vanya an inquiring stare. If she says the word, I’m going to switch into a British accent and pretend we’re tourists from London. Hullo, I’ve never ‘eard of that woman in my life!

Vanya shrugs, giving her approval. I’m not surprised by her choice. No matter how exhausted she is, the woman always accommodates her fans. Something about how they inspire her and she wouldn’t be here without them. It’s her excuse for allowing total strangers to cross the line and invade her personal space.

“Holy smokes! Can I get a picture with you!” The electric voice chimes again.

“Sure,” Vanya agrees.

“Drive up to the next window please.”

I set the car in motion. “You should have let me handle that. You’re not feeling well enough to greet fans.”

“It’s just a picture.”

“It’s more than you need to deal with right now.” My fingers tighten around the steering wheel.

“One three-second shot can make someone’s day. It’s really not worth that scowl on your face.”

I grunt. “How are you so mean to me and so nice to everyone else?”

“That’s easy. You get on my nerves. They don’t.”

“Thanks for the brutal honesty.”

“Always.” She gives me a smug smile.

When we pull up to the next window, the worker is there in a neon-colored uniform and baseball cap. Her entire body is pushing out of the drive thru window.

“Vanya! Vanya!” The girl waves around a cell phone.

I take the chai from her before she drops it in her excitement. If Vanya’s precious lifeblood hits the ground, there really will be hell to pay.

Vanya accepts her chai and grimaces, bending over slightly.

“Is it your stomach?” I whisper, noticing the hand she’s got on top of her middle.

She shakes her head. “It’s okay.” Putting on her model face—the one with the practiced smile and perfect posture—she does a little wave to her fan. “Hi, there!”

“Haai!”

I’m good with the screeching, the wild grinning and the back-and-forth ‘I love yous’.

Until Vanya pops her door open.

“Where do you think you’re going?” I bark.

“I can’t take a picture from the passenger seat.” She unlocks her seatbelt.

I wrap my hand around her wrist, ignoring the spark that travels through my veins when I touch her. “You’re not feeling well.”

“I’m okay, Hadyn.”

“If she wants a picture, she can take it selfie-style.”

“But—”

“No other options, Van.”

“It’s okay, Mrs. Vanya. Listen to your husband. I can snap it like this.” The teen extends her hand and finds an angle that captures her face and the car.

“He’s not my husband,” Vanya says as she smiles for the picture.

“She’s right.” I stare lovingly at her. “I’m her soulmate.”

The teenager gasps as she takes another shot.

Vanya pinches my arm.

“Ow.” I jump so high I almost bash my head into the roof. “Hey, keep those claws of destruction away from me!”

The teenager smiles brilliantly. “Thank you so much, Mrs. Vanya. Thank you.”

“Thank you too.” She gestures to her chai.

The kid gives her a look of pure adoration. “I want to be a model like you someday.”

“Keep going for your dreams, kid.” Vanya nods.

“I will. I so will.”

Vanya cracks the top of her chai and guzzles it like beer when I drive off. She sighs in pure relief and sinks into her chair. “I needed that.”

“I have no idea how you stomach the taste. Chai is disgusting.”

“You’re lucky you’re driving or I would have ninja-chopped you for your blasphemy.” She goes in with her tongue and starts licking the sides of the cup.

My body decides now would be a good time to imitate a pirate walking the plank.

It’s frustrating. I’m not excited about the sparks I felt when I touched her earlier and I hate that memories of her naked body are on rotation in my mind.

Vanya’s a friend. We’re married but we’re not. It’s complicated.

And I hate complicated.

I adjust myself in my seat. “I think you owe me a thank you and an apology.”

“I’ll consider thanking you for the chai, but what do I have to apologize for?”

“Taking advantage of me in Vegas and then pretending you know nothing about it. That’s an old school move, Van. Who’s the playboy here? You or me?”

She huffs and sets the empty cup down. “You kidnapped me today, so technically, we’re even.”

I bark out a laugh. “You just can’t lose, can you?”

My phone rings while she gives me a deal with it look.

I press the button and the car’s speakers blast out Max’s grumpy voice. Max is the third member of our childhood trio. We used to spend long summer days playing at the race track while his mom worked the front desk.

“Hadyn, Will just called me,” Max says.

My back goes rigid.

“I sent the call to voicemail. I have no desire to get in your family’s affairs. What I want to know is why the sudden urgency? Will hasn’t reached out to me since you dropped out of college.”

“It was a sabbatical,” I grumble.

“The rich kid went to ‘find himself’ in Europe,” Vanya says. “Translation, he went to party and hook up with—”

“I didn’t.”

“Yeah, right.” She snorts.

I give her a stink look.

She sticks her tongue out at me.

Real mature.

“I didn’t know you were with Vanya,” Max says. His somber voice is laced with astonishment. “I thought you two couldn’t be alone without killing each other.”

“Oh, you’d be surprised what we can do to each other when we’re alone…”

“Max, ignore him.” Vanya reaches forward. “Tell Dawn I said hi and I’ll meet her tomorrow.” She slams her finger on the ‘end call’ button and then glares at me. “You’re a sucky person.”

“What?” I pull into the hospital’s underground parking lot.

“You almost spilled to Max.”

I glance away.

Silence falls while she stares at me, reading through my guilty expression.

“Hadyn.”

“Lovely weather today, isn’t it?” I peer through the windshield. “The sky is—”

“We’re in the basement. What part of the sky can you see from here?”

I ease back. “I observed it on the way.”

“Hadyn Micheal Mulliez.”

“It’s such a shame that global warming might soon cause worldwide extinction. I really like this planet.”

“I will peel your fingernails off with a crowbar.”

My eyes widen.

“Tell me you didn’t spill to Max,” she hisses.

“I can’t. Max knows.”

Vanya goes completely still. “Excuse me?”

“I…” My eyes shift away. “I told him.”

“What do you mean you told him?”

“He’s my best friend. How could I not tell him?”

“Max didn’t say anything to me.” Her eyes dart back and forth as if she’s circulating through every conversation she’s had with Stinton over the last few weeks.

“I asked him to keep quiet. Plus he knows you don’t remember.”

“Why would you tell him?” she shrieks, looking horrified.

Because Max is more level-headed than I am. He cautioned me against chasing Vanya down to demand we talk about Vegas. He convinced me to wait until she came to me.

Which she did.

Sort of.

“I can’t believe you—” Vanya’s vibrating phone saves me from what I’m sure would be some uncomplimentary remarks.

She shifts her angry stare to the phone screen. “Juniper’s asking if I’ve gotten to the hospital.” She sticks a dark finger at me. “We’ll talk about this later.”

I throw my car door open and follow her.

She whirls around. “What are you doing?”

“Making sure you actually see a doctor.”

“Do you know how close I am to taking you up to the roof and throwing you off right now?”

I shrug. “It’s a good thing I’m already at a hospital then.”

She lets out the kind of sigh reserved for teachers at the very end of their rope or mothers who want to ship their kids off to boarding school and drown themselves in wine.

“Do what you want.” Turning sharply, Vanya ignores me and walks into the hospital.

Victory.

I give her a lazy once-over from behind. Her long, colorful dress flows to the ground and floats with an invisible wind. Her hips sway subtly from side-to-side. Her legs jut out in perfect formation. It’s the sashay that graced catwalks from France to Korea.

Heads swing like puppets on a string when Vanya stalks past. It’s no surprise to me. She’s got that air about her, the charisma of someone important. Someone who knows themselves well and is proud of who they are. Society’s spent such a long time crapping on people who aren’t the size of sticks. When someone like Vanya struts into the world, confident and unapologetic about her body and beauty, it’s hard to look away.

Vanya hesitates when we get to the nurse’s station and peeks at me from the corner of her eye, probably gauging the likelihood of success if she makes a run for it.

I slide behind her until her backside brushes my pants. Dipping to her ear, I whisper, “Run and I will drag you back. Over my shoulder this time.”

She stiffens and, by some glorious miracle, makes the three small steps to the desk. “Hi, I have an appointment with Dr. Lesley.”

“Just a moment.”

A nurse taps in her information and sends us to fill out a form.

The chairs in the waiting room are hard on my back and I have to shift a bit to find a comfortable position. There’s a kid sitting by the play area. He’s fiddling with a tower of building blocks and laughing uproariously when they fall.

A door on the left opens and a woman with dark hair shuffles out with another kid. She calls for the one in the play area and he comes streaming to her side, clinging to her legs like she’s the best thing since turbo boosters.

“Cute kid,” I tell the woman as she walks by.

Her tired expression transforms immediately and she pats the little one’s head. “Thank you. They’re a handful, but they’re the world to me.” Her eyes track between me and Vanya. “You two?”

Vanya stiffens.

“No, not yet.” I drop an arm around Vanya.

“In the future, you two will have beautiful babies. I can tell.”

I smile for the both of us. “Thanks.”

When they’re gone, Vanya elbows me. “You’re enjoying this.”

I cup her chin. “You think we’ll have pretty babies?”

Her eyes slice into me and she wrenches her chin away. “I’m not having a baby with you. Or with anyone.”

“Why? You don’t like kids?”

“It’s not that I don’t like them.” Vanya signs her name on the document with a flourish. “It’s that they’re so… unpredictable. Do you know how many things could go wrong when there’s a tiny, helpless human being depending on you?”

“So you don’t want a baby… because you can’t control it?”

She shoves the clipboard at me, her eyes hard. “There’s a rainbow’s chance in hell that we’re going to have a baby together, so there’s no point in talking about this.”

A nurse pops up at that moment. “Ms. Beckford?”

“I’m here.” Vanya leaps out of her seat.

“So am I.”

Vanya bristles when I follow her. “Do you have to come with me?”

“Yes.”

“You can just wait out here. You can see the door. You’ll know if I run.”

“Nope,” I say, hoping that puts an end to her line of conversation. There’s no way I’m letting her out of my sight or she’ll probably find a way to climb through a window and scale to the ground.

“Right in here,” the nurse says, pointing to an office.

“Thanks.” I open the door for Vanya.

She gives me a look of pure death and stalks in after me, leaving a trail of her perfume for me to step through.

I take a deep breath before joining her inside. The room is small but brightly lit. On the desk are models of intestines and kidneys. Framed medical certificates grace the walls.

The doctor’s chair is empty.

As if she knows where my thoughts are going, the nurse pokes her head in. “Dr. Lesley will be back in a moment.”

“Thanks.” I wink at her.

She giggles.

Vanya rolls her eyes so hard I’m surprised her eyeballs don’t pop out and start bouncing on the ground.

“You just can’t help yourself, can you?”

“You jealous?” I wrap a hand around the back of her chair. “Wife?”

She pushes my hand so hard I’m pretty sure I dislocate my shoulder joint.

“Ow!” I cry out and let my arm dangle. “I think you broke it.”

“Stop over-exaggerating.”

“I’ll need surgery after this.” I hiss loudly. “You’ll have to wait on me hand and foot while I recover.”

“I’m going to dislocate your other shoulder if you keep acting up.” She pulls all her fingers into a fist.

I straighten and laugh sheepishly. “Would you look at that, honey? I think I’ve been healed. It’s a miracle.”

The door slides open and light footsteps draw our attention to a small man with bushy hair, oval glasses and twinkling brown eyes.

“Dr. Lesley?”

“That’s me. And you must be Vanya Beckford.” He settles behind his desk and whisks out a pen and a pad. “Why don’t you tell me where you’re feeling pain?”

Vanya answers his questions in a tight voice. When she’s done, Dr. Lesley bends in front of her and presses on her stomach.

“That hurt?”

“No.” She shakes her head.

“How about now?” He moves his hand around.

“No.” Vanya frowns. “I told Juniper I was fine.”

“Hm.” Dr. Lesley returns to his seat and scribbles something down.

“Can I go now?” Vanya slings an arm over her elbow and sinks further into her chair.

To distract her, I place a hand on her leg. “My wife and I are still in the honeymoon stage, so she’s eager to hurry back and, ahem, get to business.”

Vanya fumes. “Hadyn, if you don’t stop it—”

The doctor smiles. “I’d like to run some tests. Just in case.”

“O-okay,” Vanya says shakily.

“Will it take long?” I ask.

“No, I don’t think so.”

“Is it…” Vanya swallows hard. “Do you think it could be cancer? My mom had… she… died from cancer when I was eighteen.”

I notice her eyes getting misty and slide my hand over hers. This time, she doesn’t pull away.

“I can’t say for sure until I run some tests.”

Vanya flops back into her seat, her eyebrows taut and her face a mask of worry.

I walk her out of the office, but she still seems dazed when she leaves with a nurse. I pace the waiting room and count the minutes until she returns.

“You’re still here?” Vanya’s voice echoes off the walls.

I run to her. “Are you okay?”

She squares her shoulders and puts on her modeling face—the one that comes out in front of the camera. “I’m fine.” Her voice is perky. Not a hint of distress. It’s like a mask that fits so perfectly on top of her skin, no one can tell the difference. “I’m great.”

I wrap my arms around her.

She tries to wiggle away, but I hold firm and draw her down to sit beside me.

“I’ll stay right here until the results are out, okay?”

“I’m sure you have better things to do.”

“I don’t,” I answer seriously.

Her throat bobs, betraying her nerves. “Whatever. Do what you want. You never listen to me anyway.”

But her fingers squeeze mine until I start to lose circulation.

What feels like hours later, the doctor calls us into his office.

“Sorry for the wait.” He smooths his tie down and takes a seat behind his desk.

“Did you find anything, Doc?” I lean forward, my heart banging against my ribs.

“Yes, I noticed something strange in one of your results.”

“Something like what?” Vanya croaks, her eyes wide and distressed.

I lean forward too, barely able to breathe.

Dr. Lesley breaks out into a smile. “Congratulations! You’re pregnant.”