All I know is I’m frightened of my husband’s reaction when he finds out.
Chapter Eight
Fable
I wake up from yet another nap to find Owen standing above my bed, his expression one of incredulity as he watches me.
“What’s wrong?” I scramble into a sitting position, smoothing my hair with shaking fingers. Everyone makes me nervous lately and I blame hormones. And the fact that I’m hiding a major secret that weighs on my chest like a solid steel beam, crushing my heart and making me anxious.
“I was, uh, just watching some gossip show on TV and it said you’re pregnant.” He pauses, his eyes so wide they look ready to bug out of his head. “Is it true?”
“What?” I stumble out of the bed, tripping over my feet, and I nearly fall. Owen dodges toward me, gripping my arm and saving me from landing on my ass. “What gossip show did you see this on? And since when do you watch gossip shows?”
“Never mind that, who cares about that shit? What I want to know is the truth.” He pauses, staring at me, suddenly looking so very wise and adult. I almost want to squirm under his stare and I wonder if he picked that look up from me. “Are you pregnant, Fable?”
I don’t answer him. Instead, I yank out of his grip and go to the bedside table, grabbing my phone to see if I have any text messages.
Oh, and I definitely do. My heart sinks. They’re all from Drew, asking that I call him, each one more frantic than the next, and there’s a voice mail from him, too. With a shaking finger, I press play and listen to it.
Fable, I need you to call me, baby. There are reports that you’re pregnant all over the internet and the publicists are asking me if it’s true. I told them it wasn’t, but I guess there’s talk of a reliable source and they heard it straight from your mouth or whatever. Anyway. Call me. We gotta talk. Now. Love you.
Closing my eyes, I press my lips together, the phone still clutched to my ear even though the message is over. I’m wobbly on my feet, my head is spinning, and I collapse onto the edge of the bed, sitting heavily on the mattress. I crack open my eyes to find Owen still staring at me, though now he looks positively freaked out.
“You’ve been weird for weeks, telling me you’re sick or whatever. You sleep all the time and you’re not eating. I’ve heard you puke a few times.” He grimaces and shakes his head. “Fuck me, you are pregnant, aren’t you?”
I can’t even work up the energy to protest, let alone scold him for saying “fuck.” “Fine. Yes, I’m pregnant.”
He gapes at me, for once in his life at a loss for words. “Holy shit, Fabes. Does Drew know?”
“He’s gonna know in about two minutes, so can you give me some privacy?” My heart sinks to my stomach at the realization that I’m about to deliver news to Drew that’s going to change our lives completely. And he might be angry about it, too.
“Yeah, sure, Fabes.” As if in a daze, Owen leaves my bedroom, closing the door behind him.
I sit on the edge of the bed for a few more minutes, rehearsing in my head what I’m going to say to Drew.
Remember how I wanted to have a baby? Well, guess what?
Yay, I’m pregnant!
Drew, you’re going to be a daddy.
Please don’t be mad at me.
I love you.
Ugh.
Deciding to just go for it, I hit his number and put the phone to my ear, listening to it ring. He answers after the first one.
“There you are. I was freaking out,” he says, sounding a little frantic. “Where were you?”
“Taking a nap,” I say, swallowing hard. Now that I have him on the phone, it’s hard for me to actually do this. To say the words, I’m pregnant.
“Fable, everyone in marketing and publicity is freaking out. Some jackass supposedly followed you and said he heard you say you were pregnant to a friend in a restaurant.” He pauses, letting the words sink into my stunned brain. Holy crap, someone actually followed me and Jen? Unbelievable. “Is it true? Or is this ass**le just making shit up? I told them it’s not true because I’d know if you were pregnant or not. I mean, shit—I’m your husband. And we already discussed this. You wouldn’t run and go tell a friend first.”
Actually, now both Jen and Owen know before my own husband, but that’s beside the point. “I don’t want you to be mad at me,” I murmur.
“What?”
I clear my throat. “Drew. I’m pregnant.”
He’s quiet. Way too quiet. I can feel the explosion building, can practically hear the wheels turning in his brain as he tries to process what I just said. “You’re kidding.” He sounds scarily calm.
“I’m not.” I lie back on our bed, my stomach pitching and rolling like a tiny boat caught in a stormy sea. “I’m about five weeks along.”
“How long have you known?”
“That doesn’t matter.” I didn’t expect that question, though it was stupid of me not to.
“It kind of does, at least to me. How long have you been keeping this secret, Fable? Did you really tell someone else at a restaurant? Who the hell was it?”
“I was with Jen,” I admit, closing my eyes. “I was scared to tell you, Drew. I didn’t know what you might say or how you’d react, especially after what happened in Boston.”
“When?” His voice drops to a near whisper. “When do you think it happened? That we conceived the—baby?”