I led him to the new love seat. We sat, and I opened my mouth to say I’m pregnant, but the words wouldn’t come. This wasn’t a joyful announcement. Yet neither could I clutch his hand and make a mournful pronouncement.
Instead, I said, “My birth control hasn’t been working.”
“Your …?”
“The implant. It’s defective. Has been since Dr. Mendez put it in.”
“Someone sabotaged your birth control.”
I hadn’t said that. Hadn’t even suggested that to the doctor. It seemed too outrageous an accusation. But of course it was exactly what I’d been thinking when the doctor told me the news.
“That’s one possibility,” I said.
“It’s almost certainly the only one, given the otherwise unbelievable coincidence of timing. My father wasn’t asking us to reconsider; he was planting the seed in hopes we’d agree, so that, when it happened, we’d accept it as a happy accident.” He shook his head. “After all he’s done, how can I still be surprised every time?”
“Because you want better. You know he’s capable of better. And you hate being disappointed.”
Lucas put his arm around my shoulders and tugged me against him. “I’m only glad you had the forethought to visit Dr. Mendez. I wouldn’t have considered checking.”
“I … I didn’t go to her for that. I …” Deep breath. “I’ve been sick the last couple of mornings and my period is late, which I hadn’t realized, being so busy. Savannah insisted … She insisted I check …”
He twisted to look at me. “You’re …?”
I nodded. Silence fell. One long moment of silence.
No matter how strong our marriage is, there are things I don’t know, can’t even guess, fear trying to guess. Things like this. We’d agreed to not have children, but I could never really be sure if his conviction exactly matched my own. Was he more open to the possibility, just not so open to it that he’d try changing my mind? Or was he even more opposed, and this really would come as the worst possible news?
Silence. Then he said, “How are you doing?” and my eyes really did fill with tears then, as I saw in his face exactly what I felt, that this wasn’t secretly joyous news but neither was it a dire pronouncement. When the tears welled, he pulled me against him, and I let them fall before I said, “I think I’m still in shock. I tested twice. Two different kits from two manufacturers. I just couldn’t believe … still can’t believe …”
“How do you feel?” he asked as I pulled away.
“Too numb to process anything else.”
He shifted to face me. “Whatever you decide, I support it.”
I shook my head. “It isn’t just about me.”
He went quiet for a moment, and then said, “Obviously, it impacts me, but you are the one who would endure a pregnancy and undertake any risks. I don’t feel strongly one way or another. I never have. The obvious choice was not to attempt to have children—one should care. But if the choice is to continue or end a pregnancy, I will accommodate either way.”
“‘Accommodate’ isn’t really the word we’re looking for here.”
A brief smile. “It isn’t, is it? For once I seem unable to find the right one. The most suitably neutral one. It is neutral to me. What you have here”—he pressed his hand to my stomach—“is a collection of cells that could become a child. We know enough about the afterlife to know we are discussing the fate of cells, not a soul. That isn’t how it works.”
“And you don’t lean either way? At all?”
Another moment of quiet. “I don’t know. I’d need time to consider more. Even then, it would be only a slight preference and not strong enough to influence your decision, should you already know what you want.”
“I don’t.”
“Then let me suggest that there is no hurry to make that decision. It is a rather large one.”
“It is.” I looked up at him. “How are you doing?”
“More concerned for you at the moment. As for how this may have come to be, I’m going to postpone thinking about that for a while. This doesn’t seem quite the time to lose my temper. It does, however, seem like a fine time for tea. Or a hot bath.”
“For two?”
His lips quirked. “The tea?”
“Sure, that, too.”
I picked up both cups and headed for the stairs. Lucas brought the pastry tray as he followed.
We had a bath. Not overly hot—I remembered Adam lamenting that they’d bought a backyard hot tub for their new place and now couldn’t use it while Savannah was pregnant. Well, he could, but he wouldn’t, just like he wasn’t drinking coffee or alcohol for nine months, and part of that was pure partner support … but part was, I knew, self-preservation, because enjoying a nice cold beer in front of Savannah might land him on the couch for the duration of the pregnancy.
So I made the bath lukewarm, and I didn’t say why. Nor did I say why I didn’t drink the rest of my tea, after remembering it had a caffeine base. I had to proceed as if I was carrying this pregnancy to term, just in case.
We enjoyed the bath. We drank some tea. We ate the biscuits and sandwiches. We made love. Then we sprawled on the bed, naked, and talked. Talked about the presumed sabotage as if it was an investigation for a client. That was how we had to handle it. If someone presented us with this case, how would we proceed?
Discuss the possibilities. Lay them out. Consider each one and how we might prove or disprove it. Come up with a plan of investigation. What evidence did we need to gather? Whom did we need to speak to? Where might we need to go? What might we need to do? Should we bring in Savannah and Adam?
Yes, we discussed that last one. They were investigators at our firm. And they were also that blend of family and friend that makes them closer than either.
We even began a case file. Lucas loves his lists and his files and his notes. I could say that’s all him, but before we started the firm, I designed Web sites and software, so I’m nearly as much of a project-management geek. We wrote stuff down. Made those lists. Devised a course of action.
We’d had plans that evening for a late dinner with board members loyal to Benicio. Lucas canceled them quietly, only telling me when it was too late to un-cancel. We both hated those dinners, but we knew how important they were.
I think the fact they were important was the worst part. Lucas had spent his life refusing to be his father’s heir. Now, he needed not only to accept that mantle but fight for it. That went against everything in his soul … everything except the reason he would fight: to provide a decent working environment for supernaturals. He knew a corporation that fully embraced his principles and ethics would see a sharp drop in profits, and the shareholders would overthrow him in a heartbeat. But he did dream of inching toward better, and he’d already fixed some of the Cabal’s worst practices, by showing more efficient alternatives.
The problem was that, if Lucas lost the support of the board, the Cabal wouldn’t just maintain the status quo. Under Carlos and his supporters, it would begin the downward spiral, where profit ruled and ethics were something you laughed about over your quarterly statements.
We’d already seen that happen with the Nasts. On the death of the CEO, the Cabal split between two successors. One half was run by Sean Nast, the true heir and Savannah’s half-brother. Sean was no idealist, but he was a good man, a principled man, and he had implemented improvements. He believed in the greater good. His uncle Josef did not. Like Carlos, Josef Nast believed in profit at any cost. Unlike Carlos, Josef was actually an excellent businessman. The result? Sean was doing fine, but his less committed employees were being lured away as Josef’s half flourished. The Cortez board saw that. Which meant we had to reschedule dinner and keep all our other social appointments, however difficult they would be right now.