“Well, if he would return any of my calls, I wouldn’t have to.”
“Maybe he’s still in Europe.”
“We planned a two-week honeymoon. He should be back by now. And I know Janice told him I stopped by while he was away. She promised she would tell him to call me when he got back.” I shrug. “He’s obviously still upset.”
“Can I ask what’s in the letter?”
“Everything. An apology. A thank-you. Well wishes. And my plan to sign the deed to the studio back over to him…after I figure out a way to buy a new one.”
“Well, your sales are through the roof right now. By the end of the month, you won’t have a single painting left in this studio to sell. Besides Lionheart,” he says, tapping his fingers together.
“It’s not for sale, Bas.”
“Just checking to see if you changed your mind. I bet you could get even more for it now with all the media attention on you and Sam.”
“I haven’t changed my mind,” I assure him.
“A shame. It would pay for a new studio and a bonus for your amazing assistant.”
“Noted.” I laugh. “Hey, have you looked into the dates for the other exhibits that I’m still invited to? We probably need to start making travel arrangements.”
“Yes, but they’re all next winter and spring. The only one before then is Aurelia Snow in June. Which is actually kind of perfect, because if everything goes well in New York, the price tag on your paintings will soar for the other shows.”
I nod pensively. “It will also give me time to focus on finding a new studio. And time to rebuild my dwindling portfolio.”
“Speaking of which, how’s the painting coming along?”
“I’m making progress. But it’s been hard to focus since we got back from LA. Between getting my invite rescinded, everything that’s going on with Tristan, and worrying about Sam, it’s been hard to stay motivated. I’ve just been so tired lately,” I say, leaning back in my chair.
“How is Tristan?”
“He’s better. He’s at home now, but he’s not going to be able to help Sam train anytime soon.”
“Train for what? I thought Sam was taking a break.”
“He is, for now. They renegotiated his contract to start in March, instead of January.” I give him wide eyes and shrug. “At least they pushed it back a couple of months. But he has to start training again after the new year with some new guy.”
“Speaking of Sam, what did you get him for Christmas?”
“Nothing yet.”
“Lucy. It’s in two days!”
“I know! I just haven’t really been in the mood to shop. It would help if I could shake this stomach bug.”
“What stomach bug?” He stands up and makes a disgusted face. “How long have you had it?”
“Since the store incident. That was the start of it.”
“Well, have you thought about going to the doctor?”
“It’s not that bad. It sort of comes and goes. I just get these waves of nausea. But after I throw up, I feel better.”
“That doesn’t sound right. Have you been losing weight?” He drops his eyes over me.
“No, I don’t think so. Probably because when I’m not puking, I’m eating everything in sight to make up for it.”
Sebastian’s face falls and he carefully gauges me for a few uncomfortable seconds.
“What?” I ask, shrugging a shoulder to fend off his intrusive look.
“Lucy Marie Bennett, tell me it hasn’t crossed your mind at least once that you might be pregnant.”
I stand up quickly. “Um, no, actually. Why is that always your go-to diagnosis?”
“Oh, I don’t know, have you had sex with Sam?” he asks sarcastically.
I roll my eyes and insist, “I never miss my birth control pill, Bas. Ever.”
He reaches for my hands and holds them between us. “Honey, birth control isn’t one hundred percent effective one hundred percent of the time. That’s like sex ed 101.”
I’m thankful he’s holding my hands, because I suddenly feel weak in the knees. And nauseous. “My period’s late,” I whisper, and he presses his lips together into a thin line. “I thought it was from all the stress I’ve been under.” I let go of his hands and take a few wobbly steps back. “Oh, my God, I’ve been so nauseous, Bas. I’m nauseous right now.” I walk aimlessly out of my office and fall onto the couch. “I’ve been starving and emotional.” I look up at Sebastian, who’s squinting his eyes as if to somehow reject the inevitable conclusion. “I think I’m pregnant.”
“Oh, my God.” He sits on the couch beside me. “What do we do?” He scans me from head to toe and then reaches for my feet. “Here, put your feet up,” he says, pulling them up onto the couch.
“Sebastian, I need to take a pregnancy test.”
“Right. Good plan. That’s what my sister did. It was a first something…First Watch?”
“I don’t know, but they’re always right next to the tampons. Seems contradictory,” I muse.
“Okay, let’s go get one.”
“What? No way.”
Bas gives me a confused look.
“Bas, I can’t go into a store and buy a pregnancy test. Someone will tell someone and before you know it there’ll be another rumor swirling that I’m pregnant with Sam’s baby.”
“But you are pregnant with Sam’s baby.”
“We don’t know that.”
He rolls his eyes. “Okay, we’ll just stick with the whole stomach bug that acts exactly like a baby theory and see what happens.”
I drop my head to the side and ask, “Will you please go buy one for me?” I press my palms together in front of me. “Please?”
“Fine,” he says, getting to his feet. “I’ll be back in ten minutes.”
“Okay.” I get up and walk behind him. “What should I do while you’re gone? Should I paint? Can I paint? Can you paint when you’re pregnant? Shit, Sebastian, I’ve been painting every day.”
He smiles. “Can I see the painting?”
“Focus, Bas.”
“Right, okay. First Watch, on its way.”
Sebastian leaves me in an ocean of anxiety with a strong undertow, but I fight against the current. What am I going to do? What am I going to tell Sam? Will he be happy? What if he’s upset?
I fall back onto the couch and take slow, deep breaths.
How can I have a baby? I don’t know anything about babies. I don’t know anything about being pregnant! I thought I had a stomach bug. I’m like one of those ladies who has their baby on the toilet because they didn’t know they were pregnant.
I get up and pace around the studio for the next several minutes.
Oh, God. I’m not cut out for this. I can’t do this.
I pass the painting I’ve been working on and stop pacing when Bas’s words echo in my head. You’ll only get stronger from here. I close my eyes and inhale a deep cathartic breath, my hands moving to my stomach as if by their own will. I’ll be strong for you.