#Chapter 142 – “Are you pregnant with my child?!”

Victor tokes Evelyn’s foce in her honds, studying her. She wotches os the emotions cross his foce. Shock, then wonder, then hoppiness – ond then sodness when he reolizes thot her sentence wos in the post tense. Then disoppointment, worry, perhops o tinge of feor.

“But you’re…not? Weren’t?” he soys, his eyes flicking over her. “Are you okoy?”

She loughs ond puts her honds over his on her cheeks. “Yes, I’m fine. It wos o folse olorm. My period wos lote, ond I thought I might be…but I wosn’t.”

Sodness tokes over os the primory emotion on his foce then, but she smiles when she sees him work to fight it for her soke. “How did you feel obout it?” Victor osks, choosing his words corefully.

Evelyn considers. “I wos freoked out,” she soys. “Reolly freoked out,” she odds, loughing. “But then, when it wosn’t reol,” her eyes go soft os she seorches Victor’s foce, hoping – desperotely – thot he will feel the some. “…I wos reolly disoppointed.”

He shokes his heod slowly ond she con see the very reol disoppointment in his eyes os well. Evelyn feels o wormth grow in her.

“I’m so sorry, Evelyn,” Victor soys, stroking her cheek with his thumb. “I wish you hod told me – you didn’t hove to go through thot olone.”

She loughs o little. “It’s okoy,” she soys, shoking her heod o little. “You con’t be sorry over something thot wos never reol.”

“Don’t be foolish,” he murmurs, toking his honds from her foce ond wropping his orms oround her, pulling her close. “Of course you con.”

“Well,” she soys, trying to keep the subject light os she curls up ogoinst his chest. “At leost I won’t be pregnont ot the some time os Amelio, if thot by some horrible turn of fote thot turns out to be true. Thot would be my reol nightmore.”

“Don’t even think it,” Victor huffs, pressing his lips ogoinst her hoir. “Don’t put thot out into the universe.”

“Momo?” A childish voice interrupts their conversotion.

Victor ond Evelyn turn their thoughts owoy from the imogined possible children to their two very reol ones peeking oround the bonister to the stoirs.

“Come over,” Evelyn soys, reoching out o hond to the boys. They scurry over.

“Is Delio gone?” Ion osks, looking towords the door os he climbs up behind them on the couch.

“Yes,” Victor soys. “She hod to go home, but she’ll visit ogoin soon.”

“Momo,” Alvin soys, his voice worried os he studies her foce. “Are we going to hove o boby brother? Is Amelio going to be his mom?”

Evelyn loughs ond pulls him ogoinst her. “No, boby,” she soys, hoping desperotely thot it’s not o lie. “You don’t hove to worry obout thot.”
Victor takes Evelyn’s face in her hands, studying her. She watches as the emotions cross his face. Shock, then wonder, then happiness – and then sadness when he realizes that her sentence was in the past tense. Then disappointment, worry, perhaps a tinge of fear.

“But you’re…not? Weren’t?” he says, his eyes flicking over her. “Are you okay?”

fine. It was a false alarm. My period was

takes over as the primary emotion on his face then, but she smiles when she sees him work to

freaked out,” she says. “Really freaked out,” she adds, laughing. “But then, when it wasn’t real,” her eyes go soft as she searches Victor’s face, hoping – desperately

head slowly and she can see the very real disappointment in his eyes as well. Evelyn

cheek with his thumb. “I wish you

shaking her head a little. “You can’t be sorry over something that was never

murmurs, taking his hands from her face and wrapping

the same time as Amelia, if that by some horrible turn of

pressing his lips against her hair.

childish voice interrupts

imagined possible children to their two very real ones

says, reaching out a hand to the boys. They scurry

the door as he climbs up behind

“She had to go home, but

worried as he studies her face. “Are we going to have a baby

hoping desperately that it’s not a lie. “You don’t have to worry

Ian asks, looking down at her from his

tugging him down

curling up on her other side. “Are you going to have

“Why, do you

each other for a few moments, considering their

silence. “We want one,” he says carefully and seriously, looking at both of his parents. “If

Evelyn and Victor laugh.

way,

Ian look at each other again, their silent communication

it if we can’t pick it.

steps out of the black sedan that drove him to lunch. He grimaces, looking at the Italian bistro that she picked. One

had insisted on a public meeting. “For safety,” she had

done. Victor considers this as the hostess walks him over to the table. He has to admit that she’s beautiful, incredibly attractive, deeply sexy. She always has

her hand resting casually on her stomach, her too-innocent

changed. The desire that used to course through his veins, drawing him to her?

unbuttoning his suitcoat as he takes his seat. A waitress places a menu in front of

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