math he’d do when I deliver four weeks earlier than he predicted.
I pulled a pillow over my head as I hid beneath the covers.
“Come on, it’s not that bad,” Auggie said as he sat on the bed.
“Easy for you to say,” I mumbled. “You’re not the one everyone wants to tattoo with a scarlet A.”
“I don’t think that’s…,” he started.
“I know that’s not the right analogy!” I snapped. “You know what I mean!”
He chuckled as he pulled down the covers. “You don’t care what they think.”
“I don’t?”
“You don’t,” he said. “And you know what? We’re going to show them. Come on,” he said, pulling me up.
I was in a bralette and panties only. He pulled out the sheer robe he bought me, simply because he wanted to watch my body changing body bloom. He positioned me in front of the antique full-length mirror which faced our bed, arching my back so that the baby bump was more pronounced. Then he positioned my hands cradling my tummy. He opened his shirt down his chest and tussled his hair before he laid out on the bed. He then took photo after photo from where he lay.
When I saw the photo, I realized that he could easily be seen in the mirror’s reflection, laying out on the unkept bed, which suggested we had enjoyed a vigorous shagging as Dr. Hamish might say.
He didn’t even command I put it on my timeline. Instead, he put it on his. “Two became one, and they became three,” he captioned.
“Auggie, what are you doing? Your grandmother…,” I trailed off.
“Will be thrilled,” he insisted.
I still was unsure. “What if she wants to do a paternity test or something?”
He laughed. “The DNA is irrelevant to me,” he said, pulling me closer. “That baby is mine. As are you.”
“Auggie,” I started. The confession sat right there on my tongue. It tasted bitter. Like acid. “There’s something I need to tell you.”
He cupped my head and pulled me closer. “It’s irrelevant,” he said, his gaze piercing mine. “There is only one thing you need to say. Do you love me?”
“With everything I have,” I confessed softly.
He practically growled as he held me tight. “One day I will show you how much I love you. We will have our fairy tale, Pea. I promise.”
He kissed me slowly, but it sparked a flame we could barely contain. I pulled away, breathless. Despite how he could play me like one of his instruments, dread sat at the pit of my stomach like a rock. My tummy still fluttered nervously, like it had earlier that day, when confronted by Christopher. When I put my hand on my belly to ease myself, I felt the fluttering again just under my skin. My breath caught.
“Auggie,” I said, grabbing his hand and putting it on the very same spot. We waited for long minutes. Nothing came. He leaned down to croon to my belly, but no melody could coax him. Then Auggie said one word.
“Hello.”
My belly fluttered again. It was no surprise that I burst into tears, as that was one of my superpowers these days. The real surprise was how tears filled those beautiful green eyes of his as well.
“Jack,” he said, his fingers caressing my tummy.
“Jack,” I agreed.
He brought my face to his for a gentle kiss.
I knew then I was going to cling to my happily ever after for all it was worth.
No, I decided. I was going to fight. Ferociously. Like a lioness.
Like a McPhee.
The next day was our Charity Day. We selected a kitchen that prepared and delivered meals to the needy. Some of the crew stayed behind to prep food. Some went out to deliver, including Auggie and me.
Since we were in Los Angeles, PING was right on top of it, though I couldn’t imagine why. It wasn’t sensationalistic enough for their trash journalism, but they found a way to be sleezy about it. Auggie decided we should get ahead of that, too, posting our pictures on his socials way before PING got a chance to. “Why buy the cow when you can get the milk for free?” he said. “People will come to us first if we’re forthcoming, rendering their ‘exclusives’ irrelevant.”
I liked that word. It was what I wanted to render Christopher. I still wore a bruise from where he grabbed me. Every time Auggie saw it, he raged. “I should have knocked his face in,” he’d growl.
“He’s not worth it,” I kept reminding him. “There are better ways to