“As I was saying. The wee camel princess was homely, but she had an interesting personality that drew people to her. They had a hard time getting past her hideous looks, but once they did, they discovered she had a magical talent for…are you ready?”
She says flatly, “I can hardly contain my excitement.”
“Talking to animals.”
After a long pause, curiosity gets the better of her. “What kinds of animals?”
“All of them. But mainly dogs. The wee camel princess could make any dog, no matter how rabid or feral, fall in love with her and do her bidding.”
“Ah. I see where this is going. The princess will fall in love with Lassie and create a new race of half-camel, half-dog babies called campups who turn on humans and kill them all. The end.”
“No, but if that idea were made into a movie, I’d watch it. Especially if the campups were genetically modified so their left paw-arms were laser cannons they could operate by thought. May I proceed?”
She sighs heavily. I take it as an affirmative.
“One day the homely princess was going to visit her good friend Neddie, when suddenly she was abducted by the biggest, strongest, handsomest dog she had ever seen. He was the king of all the dogs—the top dog, so to speak—and famous for his bravery. Also for his intelligence. It was far superior to the wee camel princess’s intelligence. Which was rather pathetic, despite her delusions otherwise.”
“You’re so lacking in imagination, there’s a hole in your head where your brain should be.”
Holding back a chuckle, I go on. “So the brave, strong, handsome, warrior-king dog—”
She mutters, “Unbelievable.”
“—locks the wee camel princess up in his castle. His plan was to interrogate her for information on his sworn enemy, who she had befriended. What he didn’t know, however, is how messy camels are. And stinky. Within days, the whole place reeked of regurgitated, half-digested grass. The castle smelled like a giant trash bin on a hot summer day. Oh, and greasy fur. And dung.”
“Charming. Was this camel princess’s name Slang, by any chance? Slung? Slune?”
Her tone is so sour, I have a hard time holding back a laugh. “No. Her name was Drone.”
“Drone. Because she talked so much. You missed your true calling in comedy, gangster.”
“I am quite funny, aren’t I?”
“You’d be a lot funnier with a broken nose.”
A nurse enters the room. Sloane quips, “Oh, good, maybe she brought an enema we can use to flush that stick out of your ass.”
I have to cover my mouth with a hand to keep from laughing.
The nurse introduces herself as Nancy and says she’s going to take Sloane’s blood pressure. Then she turns to me with a tentative smile. “And you must be the father.”
Sloane bursts into raucous laughter. Rolling over to gloat at me, she says, “Burn! Yes, that’s my dad, Father Time, over there. He’s not nearly as young and handsome as he thinks he is.”
The nurse’s smile falters. “I meant the father of the baby.”
I fall still. My stomach clenches into a knot. It suddenly becomes very hard to breathe.
Sloane’s still laughing. “Good one, gangster. How much did you pay her to say that?”
When she sees the expression on my face, her laughter dies.
Wide-eyed, she looks back at the nurse. Her face turns pale. Her voice comes out strangled. “Wait. What…what baby?”
At least the nurse has the good manners to look apologetic when she answers.
“The doctor didn’t tell you? You’re pregnant.”
17
Declan
It’s so silent in the room for a moment, I can hear someone’s heart monitor beeping in another room down the hall. Then Sloane says flatly, “That’s impossible. I’ve been on the pill for ten years. You’ve got the wrong person.”
By this time, Nancy is looking extremely uncomfortable. She takes a single step backward toward the door. “Sorry. Maybe I’m mistaken. I’ll just send the doctor back in—”
“Stop.”
Though my tone is deadly soft, it does the trick. Nancy freezes in her tracks, swallowing.
Like the idiot doctor, she also knows who I am. Word gets around fast when a new king ascends the throne. “You ran a pregnancy test with the blood samples taken when she checked in?”
The nurse looks back and forth between me and Sloane, obviously wondering what kind of mess she just stepped into. “Yes. The doctor thought it was prudent considering—”
“No,” interrupts Sloane, her voice loud. “I had my period last month. I’ve taken the pill every day since then. No missed days. I’m very careful. I’m not pregnant.”
“The pill doesn’t have a perfect success rate. And you can get pregnant during your period.”
Sloane says, “And you can get the hell out of my room with that bullshit before I give you two black eyes, Nancy.”
I stand. Nancy skitters back a few steps. I tell her to stop again, and she looks like she’s going to faint.
“Listen, I’m just the messenger. The doctor can give you more information than I can.”
I demand, “What’s the accuracy on those blood tests?”
“Ninety-nine percent.”
Fuck. “And how soon can it detect pregnancy after a missed period?”
“Within days.”
I look at Sloane, red-faced and infuriated on the bed. “Have you missed a period?”
Her lips thin.
“Answer the goddamn question.”
She admits grudgingly, “I was supposed to get it a few days ago. Or right now. My days are all mixed up.”
When I pass a hand over my face, groaning, she insists, “I’m not pregnant! I know my body! Nothing has changed!”
“Typically, you won’t start to feel symptoms until about week five or six.”
Sloane’s look could melt the skin right off poor Nancy’s face. “That’s a lot longer than it will take you to feel the symptoms of the kick I’m about to knock your teeth out with.”
I snap, “Sloane, shut it. Nancy, get out.”
Nancy spins around and runs out. When she’s gone, Sloane turns to me, insistent. “I’m not. I’m not, Declan.”
“Aye. Except it sounds like you are.” Agitated, I start to pace.
“Well then, I’ll just have to deal with it.”
When I whirl on her, bristling, she lifts her brows.
“What’s that look for?”
I growl, “You are not getting an abortion.”
She examines my face in silence for a while. When she finally speaks, her voice is tranquil. “I didn’t say I was. But if I were, it would be none of your damn business.”
I lose my cool and shout, “Of course it’s my business! You’re my fucking captive!”
When her hair settles back around her face, she folds her hands in her lap. “I see you have strong feelings on the subject. I’d like to point out, however, that regardless of how I got to be here, it’s curious that you’d care one way or the other. After all, you’re not the father. Not that there is a father, because I’m not pregnant, but if I were, you wouldn’t be him.”