“You can and you will,” James stated.
“I can’t,” Belle breathed.
“If it’s a financial difficulty then I’ll arrange for you to be moved,” James told her.
“It’s not a financial difficulty!” Belle cried, beginning to panic.
“Good, then you’ll tell Mum when we can expect you,” James returned.
Belle stared at him a moment before asking, “Are you mad?”
“No, not in the slightest. You’re carrying my child. That means something to me. I’ve missed three months of its development. I don’t intend to miss any more.” He stopped speaking. His eyes changed to something she’d never seen on him before. Something frightening and not very nice. Something that made her even more nervous than normal and more than a little bit scared before he spoke, saying words that explained his look. “And you won’t keep it from me.”
“It’s a child in a womb,” Mom spoke up.
“It’s my child in a womb,” James retorted.
“You can’t see anything or feel anything or –” Mom kept at it.
“It’ll grow. It’ll kick. It’ll move. There are theories that a developing child hears voices, music, even understands and connects with the beings around it as it grows. Belle doesn’t get to keep that to herself. She’ll share it, with me,” James stated implacably.
“I can’t live with you,” Belle spoke on a horrified whisper.
“You can,” James returned.
“James, you know I can’t,” Belle said softly but she’d made a mistake.
She’d called him James.
If the look on his face just moments before was frightening and not very nice, this one was downright terrifying and filled with borderline loathing.
“I’m not giving you a choice,” he said low, his voice full of the dangerous menace apparent in his eyes.
“And what will you do if she refuses?” Gram asked.
“I’ll fight Belle for full custody once the baby is born,” James answered coldly and this announcement was met with all around shocked gasps.
Except Joy, who exclaimed. “Jack!”
And Belle, who could no longer fight back the nausea.
It was coming, no amount of swallowing was going to stop it and if she didn’t find a bathroom and soon, it would be all over the dainty coffee table.
So she shot up from the couch and ran from the room, heading from memory to the bathroom Yasmin took her to when she was at the party.
She barely made it. Falling to her knees on a sliding skid and putting her face in the toilet, she gave up the small lunch of tuna salad sandwich her mother made her eat.
Tuna, she realised too late, was no fun re-experiencing.
When she was done, she rested her hot forehead against the toilet seat, wrapping her arms around the back of her head.
Belle really hated vomiting.
She’d avoided doing it for years and was glad she’d never have another child because, after this, she was hoping she’d avoid it for many years to come.
Her eyes opened and she looked at her belly. “You’re already causing trouble you know,” she told her belly softly. “I’m kind of not enjoying this throwing up business. So, if you could tone it down, I’d appreciate it.” Her still (almost) flat stomach didn’t reply so she went on, “Or, at least wait until I’ve had a hot fudge sundae and wouldn’t mind a second taste.”
At her final word, she felt a hot hand on her back.
She’d know the feel of that hand anywhere, anytime. If she had to walk blindfolded through a million hands, she could source it and if she lived to be a hundred years old, she’d remember it.
Her head shot up and to the side and she saw James crouched close beside her.
He wasn’t looking at her, though his hand was still on her back. He was reaching out and flushing the toilet.
Okay, so, she’d been pretty humiliated by this man but this was the icing on the cake.
His eyes came to her and she wished she wasn’t so slow. She should have got up and walked out. Just like that gloriously awful night when she’d woken and he’d still been asleep, she should have left then too.
Instead, she was in close quarters with James after having just vomited, feeling like an idiot and she could see his lushly lashed eyes close up.
Something she never wanted to do again in her life.
Something she relived in her dreams every night.
“Does this happen often?” he asked softly using a voice she was far more familiar with.
“About twenty times a day,” Belle tried to reply matter-of-factly but, she had to admit, it took effort not to lean toward him. His internal magnet, in this mood, was full force.
“Have you told Dr. Flanagan?” he went on and she nodded but didn’t speak. “And?” James prompted.
“I’m drinking stuff she gave me. It’s okay, James. You don’t have to worry. The baby is getting nourished.”
Something she couldn’t read flashed in his eyes but before she could decipher it, he continued, “And you?”
“Me what?” Belle asked, confused.
“Are you getting nourished?”
On that, she broke from his magnetic beam and stood.
She could, surprisingly, cope with him being a jerk (just barely) but his fake concern was something she couldn’t bear.
He stood with her and she walked around him to the basin saying, “I’m fine.”
She leaned into the basin and rinsed her mouth, hoping he’d leave, something he did not do.
When she was done, she grabbed a towel and wiped her mouth. Then she pulled the now ever present roll of mints from her back pocket and put two in her mouth before returning the pack to her pocket.
Then she moved toward the door.
James brought her up short with a hand on her arm.
She looked at his hand then at him. “We should join the others.”
He ignored her remark, didn’t remove his hand (which felt, by the way, like it was burning her skin) and said, “You’re too thin.”
“I’m told that happens,” she informed him.
“It’s my understanding women gain weight while pregnant,” he replied.
“Not in the first trimester.”
“You’re completing the first trimester,” he reminded her.
“This will pass,” she assured him.
“I’d like to attend an appointment with you and your obstetrician.”
“I’ll arrange that,” she agreed but she’d agree to anything to get away from him. She tried to pull her arm from his grasp to get out of the close confines of the bathroom as soon as humanly possible but he didn’t let go.