by Nia Arthurs
Kent accepts her hands with tears in his eyes. He’s handsome in a classic black tux with a black bow tie. But it’s definitely that look of total and complete love that transforms his face ands sets off an emotional bomb.
Katrina starts bawling from the front row, which starts a chain reaction in the audience. Even I have to bat away a few tears, and I am not a crier.
Thomas notices me sniffling and rolls his eyes, but I just ignore him.
The deacon announces that Kent may kiss his bride and he lays a scorching hot kiss on Amaya that makes me wonder if he’s forgotten he’s in front of fifty guests and not in the suite for their wedding night.
At last, they come up for air and everyone cheers. I clap politely of course and tear my eyes off Amaya as the wedding party follows them down the aisle.
My gaze collides with Wilson who’s serving as Kent’s best man. His broad shoulders strain against that tailored black tux and his hair glistens in the sunlight.
I wish he wasn’t so darn fly. The man has the facial structure of a Greek god and he knows it.
Seeing him around everywhere is torture. I can’t wait until he…
My stomach roils. I cover my mouth. The sun beats the top of my head, pummeling me like a pro wrestler. The music plays loudly in my ears, adding to the chaos of wedding guests heading inside to the reception.
Thomas grabs my shoulder. He’s calling my name, but I’m not hearing him clearly. It sounds like he’s talking from a distance.
My gag reflexes warn I’m about to blow right on top of these lovely white chairs. I shake my brother’s hand off and dart out of the aisle.
There’s no time to shoot into the hotel and find a bathroom. I scramble as far away from the wedding party as I can, sequestering myself behind a tree. The contents of my stomach are lost in the soft grass.
I knew I shouldn’t have eaten that protein bar on the way.
“Zora!” My brother’s voice thunders through the foliage. “Zora!” A moment later, Thomas appears with Diandra in tow.
She’s wearing a one-shoulder navy dress. It’s one instance where the maid-of-honor didn’t have to wear a hideous gown to let the bride shine.
Diandra’s brown eyes are laced with worry. Without thought to her outfit, she dives right beside me. My puke smells but she doesn’t wrinkle her nose or anything. Instead, she shoves a bottle of water at me. “Drink this.”
“Thanks.” I guzzle it down.
“That better?” Thomas asks.
I nod and stand. Grass crunches beneath my heels. “Thomas, was that protein bar expired?”
“I’m not sure.”
Diandra glances at me and then looks at my brother. “Could you ask the kitchen for some ginger?”
“Ginger?”
“Yeah, it will help.”
Thomas looks at me as if seeking my permission before he leaves.
I nod. “I’ll be fine. Go.”
“I’ll be right back,” he assures me before striding out of sight.
“Can you stand?” Diandra asks.
“I think so.”
She wraps her manicured fingers over my arm and helps me up. “How far along are you?”
I almost stumble on my face but manage to catch my balance at the last minute. My head whips around to take her in. “What?”
“You’re pregnant, right?”
My jaw drops but no words fall out.
“I knew there was something different about you. You were glowing, that’s what it was.”
“I’m not pregnant,” I say with a horrified chuckle. “That’s not possible.”
“You’re the nurse. Shouldn’t you know this stuff?”
Yes, I should know this stuff. And now that I’m thinking about it, the signs are crystal clear.
I’m starting to unravel now and my voice climbs to a squeak as I argue, “There’s no way that’s even possible. I haven’t been with anyone since…”
Diandra studies me intently. “Who?”
“Wilson…”
“WILSON?” Diandra shrieks.
“WILSON?”
We both turn and watch as my brother storms through the brush, shoving branches aside like Tarzan.
“Who the hell is Wilson?” Thomas roars.
“I thought you went for ginger?” I stutter.
“I came back to ask if I was supposed to bring it whole or put it in water. What’s this about my sister being pregnant?”
The blood drains from my face. “Bro, I can explain.”
Diandra, who obviously doesn’t understand that Wilson and I are about to die at the hands of my brother, jumps in. “But you two hate each other? When did you and Wilson sleep together?”
I wince. “Can we not—?”
“You slept with some guy you can’t stand?”
“Thomas, first… calm down.”
“I’m calm.” His nose flares and anger glints in his eyes as he says, “Very calm.”
“There’s a chance I’m not pregnant.” That’s a lie because, now that I’m looking at it clearly, I’m very pregnant. “Let’s wait before we jump to any conclusions.”
Thomas turns to Diandra. “Wilson’s the best man, right?”
“Yeah.”
“Really?” I hiss.
Diandra shrugs. “He asked.”
I pick my way out of the brush and step toward my brother. “Don’t do anything yet. Give me a chance to verify—”
Thomas whirls around and sprints straight toward the hotel.
“Thomas!” I scream.
Diandra’s eyes are twice their usual size. “Uh-oh.”
Together, we scramble after Thomas. We’re going as fast as we can, but Thomas has two things working in his favor—first of all, he’s six feet tall with garishly long legs and second, he’s not wearing four-inch heels.
By the time we get inside, Thomas already has Wilson by the throat and pinned against the wall. He’s staring the guy down like a bull about to impale the matador.
“Let him go!” I screech, grabbing the attention of the hotel workers exiting the hall where the reception is being held.
“Are you the guy who got my sister pre—”
I plow into Thomas, knocking him off balance and thus freeing Wilson from his clasp. Wilson clutches his throat and glares at my brother.
I glare at my brother. “Don’t make a scene.”
“What’s going on, Zora?” Wilson yells.
I cringe. “I’ll explain everything later.”
“Or you can explain everything now.”
Diandra slides in, finally doing her job and outing the fire. She grabs Wilson’s arm. “Amaya needs us to take wedding photos. We should go.”
“You don’t want to ruin Amaya’s special day, right?” I ask my brother. Playing the Amaya card is low, but I’m desperate and Thomas has already shown that he’s willing to fight dirty so my gloves are coming off too.
He backs away, but he’s still staring a hole through Wilson’s face. “You’ve got thirty minutes. Diandra.”
“What? Me?” She sticks a finger in her chest.
“Bring this joker to my place as soon as your photos are done.”
“Who do you think you a—?”
I slap a hand over Wilson’s mouth. “Shut. Up.”
“I’ll bring him over the second we wrap up the shoot,” Diandra promises.
Thomas whisks me away and drives me to the pharmacy. He doesn’t say anything but he doesn’t have to. I know what I need to do.
My fingers tremble when I toss the pregnancy tests into the basket and shamefully slink to the counter for the cashier to scan it. She does, throwing me judgmental looks all the way.
Thomas drives me to his apartment. From the way he’s gripping that steering wheel, I realize it was the right choice to keep him away from Wilson.
My feet tap against the floor mats. I find myself wishing I could process this alone.
We make it to his apartment in one piece, and Thomas parks hi
mself in the sofa. I shuffle to the bathroom and follow the instructions on the pregnancy test box.
The two minutes I wait for the results are the longest two minutes of my life. I spend that time swiping through social media and pretending the tiny object waiting on the edge of the counter won’t wreck my entire world.
Then my timer beeps.
I force myself to pick the test up and stare at the lines.
Thomas knocks on the door, loud enough to be heard over my thundering heartbeat. “What does it say?”
“I…” I swallow the lump in my throat. Shuffle my feet. Squeeze my eyes shut. “I’m pregnant.”
Chapter Three
Wilson
Diandra refuses to tell me what’s going on. Which forces me to fake-smile through the photo-shoot with Amaya and Kent.
The background is beautiful—a golden sunset, a stormy blue sea, a majestic lighthouse representing my cousin’s once-in-a-lifetime love and how it always leads him home.
It’s great and I’m sure the pictures will be stunning, but I can’t get my mind off the scuffle between me and Thomas in the hotel hallway.
Zora’s brother had death in his eyes. There’s no way that was a random act.
“Alright.” I yank my bow tie down and unbutton the top three buttons of my shirt. “The shoot is done and those two lovebirds are none-the-wiser. Pay up.”
“Sorry. It’s not my secret to tell.”
“Diandra.” I growl.
She doesn’t even flinch. “I have three brothers, Will. You’ll need to try harder than that to scare me.”
“We made a deal. I keep my mouth shut and play along during the photo-shoot and you tell me what the hell is going on.”
Diandra arches both eyebrows. “Where’s your car? There’s somewhere you need to be.”
I pester her with questions in an effort to drag the truth out of her, but the woman’s a steel trap. I can’t get even one clue as Diandra directs me through an unknown neighborhood in the city.
Ten minutes later, we stop in front of an apartment. It’s large and imposing, standing several miles over the other houses on the block. Despite the building’s cold face, waving coconut trees and hibiscus bushes abound.
A smile grows as I observe the sprawling lawn. In Belize, even ordinary residential buildings look like scenes for a commercial.
Diandra urges me out of the car and leads me to the sixth floor where she stops, inhales a breath and knocks on a green door.
Her expression is grave when she turns to me. “Alright, Wilson, listen up. Two things can happen when that door opens.”
“What are they?”
“Either you live or you die.”
My hand inches toward my throat. “Do I at least get an explanation first?”
“We’ll see.”
The door swings open before I can decide if I want to stay and find out what this is all about.
Zora’s brother fills the doorway. He’s got dark skin, short hair and a permanent scowl. As soon as I see his face, I remember the fight Kent and Amaya had about inviting him to the wedding.
In the end, Amaya won.
I study him while Thomas glares at me. We’re about the same size and height. I know I can take him based on my boxing skills alone, but that fierce expression warns he won’t go down easy.
“Come in,” Thomas says in a gravelly tone.
I straighten my shoulders and stride inside. It’s a regular bachelor’s pad—monochromatic color scheme, big sofas, even bigger TV.
But admiring his décor isn’t my priority, especially when my eyes are drawn to Zora. She’s sitting in the couch. There’s a blanket wrapped around her shoulders, hiding her green dress from view.
This cowering, trembling figure is nothing like the woman who stalked into the garden today like she owned it.
I saw Zora the moment she arrived. Not because I wanted to notice her, but because that dress demanded my attention.
I wasn’t the only one caught in her snare. Several men swiveled completely around when she came near, their gazes fastened on her as she pranced by and took her seat.
Zora King is, unquestionably, a woman. The way she filled out that gown left an impression. She’s annoying, high-strung, brash, but attractive. With clothes on and off.
Flashes of our night together burst to mind, but the memories feel sleazy while I’m sitting in front of her fuming brother. I brush the thoughts away and focus on Zora as she is, dressed and troubled, right now.
Something’s wrong.
She’s trembling. Eyes boring into the ground like the secrets of the world are embedded in the tiles. She’s so engrossed she doesn’t even notice me. Or maybe she’s so upset she just doesn’t care.
I’m getting a bad feeling about this.
“Zora,” Diandra flies straight across the room and sits next to her, “are you okay?”
Zora glances up. Our eyes lock. The level of distress on her face sends warning bells clanging through my head. This isn’t some prank or elaborate plan to get back at me.
Whatever’s going down right now is about to change my life.
“Sit.” Thomas flicks his hand toward the sofa.
I listen even though, on a normal day, I’d stand just for spite.
“Tell him, Zora.”
She licks her lips. Forces her gaze to mine. Our eye contact lasts all of a second before she looks away again. Her brown fingers fumble over her lap. She’s clearly nervous. Which makes me nervous.
“What is this—?”
“I’m pregnant.”
A sudden punch to the gut would have been less shocking. “What?”
“You took the test?” Diandra asks.
Zora nods. “I took two more just to be sure. It never changed. It… I’m pregnant.”
“Are you saying—is the baby mine?”
“Who else would it be for?” Thomas asks with an edge of steel beneath his calm tone.
I jump to my feet. “Can I talk to you, Zora? Just the two of us?”
She nods.
I half-expect Thomas to stop us, but he just leans back and says nothing as we walk up the stairs to what I assume is his bedroom.
This time, I am physically unable to notice anything but Zora. The moment she closes the door, I run a hand through my hair. “Tell me this isn’t real. I can’t have a baby right now.”
“Do you think I wanted this?” she snaps.
I squeeze my eyes shut. “Yeah, but… how do you know it’s mine?”
“Because,” she hisses, her voice fiery enough to start a blaze, “you’re the only man I’ve been with since… you’re the only one.”
I latch on to her near confession. “Since who? Were you with some other guy?”
“Yeah. Eight months ago. It was the last time I saw him. If it was his, I would have been ready to give birth by now. Best I can tell, I’m six weeks pregnant.”
My eyes fall to her stomach. I can’t even see a bulge. “It doesn’t look that big.”
“Give it a few more weeks.” She blows out a breath and paces to the other end of the room. “I can’t believe this is happening.”
“Neither can I.”
“You used protection, right?” She shrieks. “I mean, of course you did. I wouldn’t have done that if you hadn’t.”
“Of course I used protection. Who do you think I…?”
Zora stops. “What?”
I rub the back of my neck. “Maybe I didn’t the third time—”
“Stop. Just stop. I can’t breathe.”
My thoughts are racing but it looks like Zora is freaking out enough for the two of us. She’s presented me with a problem. It’s my job to find the solution.
I’m a programmer. The world functions by principles and codes just like computers do.
Principle 1: if a man gets a girl pregnant, he should take responsibility for the kid.
Principle 2: even if a man doesn’t mean to get a girl pregnant and it’s an accident, he shou
ld still take responsibility for the kid.
I can take a paternity test later. For now, all I can do is trust that Zora is telling me the truth.
“Don’t worry, okay? Focus on keeping yourself and the baby healthy. I’ll take care of everything else.”
“No, you don’t understand. I can’t be pregnant. I’m a nurse. I’m up for promotion. If I take three months maternity leave.” She shakes her head vehemently. “I can’t.”
“So what do you want to do?” I draw closer and say the words even though they pain me. “Do you want to… get rid of it?”
Her expression crumbles. “Get rid of it?”
“Zora…”
She starts to sink and I rush toward her, holding her up. Sweat forms on her forehead. She clinches her fingers into my shirt, pinching my skin.
I ignore the pain and focus on the woman falling apart in my arms. “It’s just an option. I want the baby, but if you—”
“No.”
“No?”
She sucks in a deep breath. “I can’t lose it. Not this time.”
“This time?”
Zora glances up, her eyes filled with determination. She straightens and brushes me off so my hand falls limply to my side. Her voice is far more confident than it was before when she declares, “I’m having this baby.”
“Okay.”
“But,” her gaze falters, “don’t feel obligated to stick around because of it. When the child is born, we can negotiate visitation rights and work something out. We don’t love each other and this was, obviously, not planned.”
“So what?”
Clearly taken aback, she stares at me.
I step closer. “We made that child together. And even though you’re carrying it alone, I’m not going to walk away.”
“Wilson—”
“I’ll rearrange my schedule. Figure out a way to work here and back at HQ.”
“You don’t have to.”
“I should be in Belize for… whatever.” ‘Whatever’ is the only word that comes to mind because I know next to nothing about prenatal care or childbirth.
Zora steps back. “Stop. Don’t force yourself. I know you don’t want to.”
