made love. She ached with the need to tell him of her feelings, but was afraid that they would be an unwelcome burden. And she couldn’t squash the hope that maybe if he just realized it was safe to love her, that she wouldn’t betray him as others had in the past, he might let his heart out of its self-imposed prison.
Carefully, she swiped soapy hands over her birth control patch. Or rather where the patch was supposed to be.
No. No, no, no, no.
It was there. It had to be. She craned her neck over her shoulder to look down at her right hip, but saw nothing except smooth skin. She looked over the other side, praying she’d forgotten that she’d used a different hip this time. But no flesh-colored square resided there, either.
Where was it? She wasn’t due to replace the weekly dose of birth control until the day after tomorrow and she wasn’t scheduled to be without until a full week after that.
Oh, God. The prayer left her lips in desperation as she tried to remember the last time she’d checked the patch.
Having it there had become such second nature that she barely even noticed it anymore. She was always careful in the shower, never soaping the area directly. She’d lost one the first month she was using them, but she’d soon learned how to avoid corrupting the adhesive that held the hormone dispenser in place.
She forced her mind to bring up and scour images from the preceding days, but the last clear impression she had of her patch was during her shower in a Midwest hotel room the morning before catching her flight to Greece. No, she couldn’t have lost it her first day in Athens.
It wouldn’t have just fallen off. But the way she and Zephyr had touched that first time making love after their weeks-long separation had been rough, urgent and not at all careful of clothing, much less an adhesive square attached to her body. But if she’d lost it then, they had made love a number of times since without any form of protection.
Her breath choked in her throat at the very real possibility of what that could mean. No. She refused to believe God would be that cruel.
She felt like hyperventilating as she asked herself what to do now. How was she supposed to walk away from Zephyr if she was pregnant with his child? Would he believe that she had not done it on purpose? Losing the condoms had been his idea, but would he remember that when faced with the unexpected results?
She didn’t want to tell him pregnancy was even a possibility. Doing so would only add stress between them when there was as much a chance she wasn’t now carrying new life as that she was. Maybe even more so, considering how long she’d been on the patch.
However, if she didn’t tell him, how would she explain the need to return to using condoms? Also, if she didn’t, how would she ever be able to explain that level of dishonesty to herself? A lie of omission was still a lie, wasn’t it?
She wanted Zephyr to believe it was safe to love her, that he could trust her with his deepest emotions and needs. How could she build that trust with him if she hid something this important from him? Wasn’t it better to be honest and up-front about what was going on, rather than pretending everything was fine when it very much was not?
Hadn’t Art done that to her? And before him, her parents? Who often waited until the last possible moment to warn her about the next move? They’d always justified this behavior by saying they had enough to deal with without her and her brother and sister having a month-long temper tantrum about leaving their friends behind. They gave just enough time for their children to say goodbye to their closest friends before uprooting them for her father’s newest military assignment.
Certainty and something like a fatalistic dread settled inside her. Though maybe for the first time, she began to understand her parents’ thinking; she wasn’t about to play that kind of game with Zephyr.
She quickly finished her shower, dressed and pulled her hair into an easy ponytail, rather than styling it. She bypassed makeup and exited the en suite bathroom a good ten minutes ahead of schedule.
Zephyr was just closing the door behind their room-service delivery. He turned to her with a sexy smile. “Breakfast is served.”
“Perfect.” Should she tell him now, or wait until later?
“You look a little shaken,” he said with a frown of concern. “Did you see a spider in the shower, or something?”
“Please. I’m not even a little arachnophobic.” But shaken described nicely how she felt.
“That’s good to know.”
“Yes, well, um…”
He stopped uncovering dishes and stared at her, his concern obviously amping up a notch. “You’re starting to worry me.”
“That might be wise. To be worried, I mean. Though, honestly, they say it takes positively months to get pregnant after you stop using birth control usually.” Oh, man, she was making a cake of this, a very messy one. “There’s no reason to assume tragic consequences now.”
“What are you talking about?” He stopped, going absolutely still. “Did you say pregnant? You’re on the birth control patch.”
“Yes, I would be, if it was actually there, I mean. If I had it on.”
“Of course it’s on. You never forget it.” He was starting to look a little shaken himself.
“I didn’t forget it this time, but it’s not there.”
“Not there?” Six feet three inches of solid muscle went boneless and he dropped to sit on the chair behind him. Hard. “Your…my…you…I…”
“You sound as coherent as I felt when I first realized it was gone.” Truth was, she wasn’t feeling that much better right now.
He stared off into space for several seconds and then shook his head. “I don’t remember seeing it.” He leaned on the table with his elbows, his head in his hands. “I don’t remember seeing it, but I wasn’t looking, either.”
“Since that first time day before yesterday?”
“I wouldn’t have noticed anything then. But no, not since.” He looked at her with an expression she’d never seen on the big tycoon’s face. Fear coupled with guilt. Severe guilt. “I never even noticed. Can you forgive me?”
Okay, that was not expected. She’d anticipated anger, blame, even horror, but not an obviously genuine guilt-fueled apology.
She crossed the room and dropped to her knees in front of him, putting her hands on his thighs. “It’s not your fault. I didn’t notice it was gone, either. We were, um…busy, in the shower yesterday and I’m just so used to it being there, I never even thought to check.”
“But you checked today.”’
“More like I noticed when I went to wash that area more carefully.”
“I cannot believe I did not pay closer attention. And then I asked you to stop using condoms.” His voice dripped with agonized culpability.
Okay, so she definitely did not have to worry about him blaming her, but she didn’t want him feeling guilty, or like an idiot. Even if she did. “We’re both adults. We both didn’t realize. The patch was my responsibility.”
“That is like saying that remembering to use a condom was my purview alone and I know you did not see it that way.”
“It’s not the same thing.”
“Of course it is. Besides, sharing the blame does no good and makes no difference to the child we may have created.”
“There’s no reason to assume I’m pregnant.” That was one leap of faith she did not want to make right now. “I told you, many women take months to get pregnant after they stop using the patch.”
“You also called possible pregnancy a tragedy.” He didn’t look very happy about that. At all. “You would not