Chapter 63 Episode 63

“There was a particularly bad incident days after the maid’s body was found. I was in an important meeting. She decided to crash it and make a scene. Things got… bad.” He shakes his head, clearly not willing to give me details. “That was the day she told me she was pregnant.” I gasp. “She was pregnant?” “She miscarried a few days later. But yes, at the time, she was pregnant.” “I blamed myself, too,” he says without shying away from the guilt. “But still, I saw the miscarriage for the blessing it was. I couldn’t raise a child with Marina. f**k, if the child were to have a shot at an even halfway normal life, then he or she couldn’t have Marina as their mother.” “Maybe motherhood would have calmed her down.” He snorts. “No, it would have sent her over the deep end. The woman was not all there.” “Did you ever try to get her help?” “The mere mention of it would throw her into one of her episodes. She would break things, smash things, hit walls. She treated the staff like they were her personal punching bags. It’s no coincidence that we lost employees in droves when Marina was the mistress of this house.” I shake my head, trying to imagine the person capable of throwing Anton’s life into chaos. “You wanted the truth, Jessa,” he says, taking my hand boldly this time. “This is the truth. After she miscarried, I waited until she had recovered and then I went to her bedroom. I told her to pack her things and leave, because I was going through with the divorce.” “How did she take that?” “About as well as I expected. She destroyed her own room and tried to set the curtains on fire. I had Dr. Spegal sedate her. When she came to, she seemed calmer. She told me she would leave.” "The next day.” He nods. "And three days after that, she was dead.” I shudder. “You think she committed suicide because you were divorcing her?” “No. I think she was trying to scare me. But something went wrong and she ended up killing herself instead.” “You don't think she really wanted to die?" “Not for a second," he growls. “She was too egotistical. She'd sooner kill me than kill herself. She was just hoping I'd feel bad about her attempt and take her back." “How did you find out she was dead?” “She sent a note,” he tells me. “Asked me to meet her at the Grand Centrale Hotel in the city. Room Twenty, I remember. I wasn’t prepared to deal with her f*****g nonsense, so I sent Yulian instead.” “And he found her right where she said she'd be. But not in the state he expected." “Yulian disposed of her body and we buried her in memoriam the next day.” He says it as though the story ends there. But I can see from his face that Marina’s ghost is still here, clinging to every facet of his life. Haunting him. Ravaging his mind, his soul. And just like that, I find myself leaning into him. I don’t even think about the kiss—I just do it. Our lips touch and, in an instant, the kiss is hungry. He grips my jaw and I curl my fingers in the hair at the back of his neck. I pull back only because I need to gasp for air. “Does that mean you believe me?” he asks. “Right now, I do,” I admit. “Ask me again tomorrow.” He cups the side of my face with his palm. “I was going to divorce her, Jessa. Killing her was unnecessary. I can understand why you would have trouble believing me, but I’m not lying to you.” Tears well in my eyes. “I think I know that now.” “Is that why you didn’t tell me?” he asks. I frown. “Tell you what?” "Did I hit my head when I fainted?" I tease, chuckling nervously. “What baby?” He stares at me for a moment, and I get the feeling that I’m leagues behind him right now. “Anton… what baby are you talking about?” Anton smooths his thumb over my check and then reaches down to grab my hand. “Jessa… the doctor that was in here before examined you…” He takes a deep breath. “He said you’re pregnant.” "No, I’m not," I say instantly. "I just had my period back in…" When? When was my last period? I made sure to schedule the wedding in the middle of my cycle. Dane didn't want me to be on my period during the honeymoon. So I should've had it roughly two weeks after the wedding. Fear curdles in my stomach, a wave of nausea washing over me. I swipe at the tears rolling down my cheeks. I can feel my expression twist. Disbelief. Denial. Shock. “Oh my God…” I breathe. “When was your last period?” Anton asks. I look down at my flat stomach like the answers to all the questions swirling in my head might be written there. But there’s nothing. No outward sign of what’s going on inside my body. “The doctor asked me that, too.” It makes sense now. At the time, I didn’t even consider the possibility. I might not be that smart after all. “I should have had a period two weeks after the wedding. Or the almost-wedding, I guess.” He leans forward. “And did you?” I can’t be more than two months along, which is incidentally the exact length of time since I was on The Medusa. “No.” I shake my head. “I don’t… I don’t think so. So much has happened since then. I wasn’t paying attention. I’m not sure…” I look up and Anton is watching me. His dark gray eyes are a familiar landmark, an anchor in the storm. Whatever power he has over me, I’m thankful for it in this moment. He says my name like it’s the whole damn sentence. There’s so much meaning there. So much emotion. “Say it again,” I hear myself plead. I grab his hand, his calloused fingers rough against my skin. “My name.” His expression softens. He presses a kiss to my temple and breathes. “Jessa." The pressure in my chest eases slightly and I close my eyes. “How did this happen?” “We had s*x,” he says. There’s a hint of amusement in his voice. I peek up at him. “How can you be so calm?” Anton lifts his chin, his body straightening. “I’m not sure how my answer will make you feel.” Oh God. He’s going to tell me that he’s calm because he knows how to control the situation. He’ll ask me to get an abortion. Because of course he will. Why would he want a child with me, a woman he barely knows? I put on my bravest face. “Tell me anyway.” His thumb brushes over my knuckles. “I’m calm because it was always meant to happen this way.” I’m so shocked that I spin towards him, forehead creased. “What?” “This baby, you and me… in some ways, it was inevitable.” I shake my head. "How can you say that? I didn't even know you a few weeks ago. I was about to marry another man.” "Exactly," he says. “We were on two entirely different paths. And then I saw you marooned in the middle of a lonely beach in a f*****g tearstained wedding dress, Jessa." “I remember.” The memory is bittersweet. I remember how it felt, sitting there in shock and then looking up into the face of the most beautiful man I'd ever seen. It felt like a dream. A hallucination. “I should have kept walking," he says. "But I felt compelled to stop. I was drawn to you from the moment I saw you. And I can't regret that decision or anything that came after it." “What about after I stole your cell phone?” He smirks. “If you hadn’t stolen it, I would have found another reason to see you again.” He’s telling me things that, deep down, I always suspected. But hearing him say it out loud makes it all seem real. It makes me feel lighter than I’ve ever felt in my life. “You’re actually… happy that I’m pregnant?” I ask. He places his hand on my stomach. My entire body shivers from the intimacy. “I’m euphoric.” I gawk at him, trying to process the strangeness of this moment. Is it possible that I’m looking at a future with this man? A man I thought was going to be my worst nightmare? “What does this mean for us?” I ask nervously. “It means we’re going to have this baby. It means that you’re going to leave that shitty little apartment and move in here with me so we can raise this child together.” His words are beautiful, but it’s not lost on me that they can be interpreted a different way. He hasn’t actually said what any of those changes mean for us. Are we friends? Are we co-parents? Are we roommates or lovers? I desperately want to ask, but I’m too mortified by my reeking desperation to voice the question. So I just nod along, wondering why it’s so easy to agree to a whole new life with this man, even though I have no idea what it will hold. “What is it?” he asks. I blink and look up at him. "What?" “What are you worrying about?” I frown. “What makes you think I’m worrying at all?”