I tried to keep quiet for fear of waking Adrian, who lay sleeping in my bed. As I leaned over the toilet, I came to the realization that I couldn’t stay and work on this boat. I needed to be reasonable. I needed to be near a proper hospital with proper prenatal care. If morning sickness was killing me this badly, I shuddered to think about the rest of my pregnancy. In the end, I spent another night in the bathroom.

I curled up on the floor and read through Abandon All Hope. It occurred to me that I’d never asked Adrian why he’d chosen that title. It was probably an allusion to something I didn’t recognize, but at the same time, I wondered if it all tied back to Elizabeth. Had he felt like abandoning everything when she died?

Probably. That’s how it felt when Mom died.

I thought of the scene where he’d written about Clarisa going to the funeral and about how it was supposed to prove she was overly attached to other people, and I thought of the funeral Elizabeth must’ve had and the funeral my mom had. It was like constructing a puzzle, and once the puzzle was completed, it presented a picture of complete and utter heartbreak. That must’ve been frightening for Adrian. To be so strong and independent and yet to be brought so low by grief.

The bathroom door squeaked open, and I winced. “I’m sorry I woke you,” I said.

Adrian grunted. “What’s wrong with you?” he asked.

“I think it’s food poisoning,” I lied. “I’ve felt kind of sick all day. I let Sherri talk me into eating shellfish.”

“It’s not for everyone,” Adrian replied.

“Yeah, but I’ll tough it out. Some shellfish isn’t going to defeat me!” I declared.

Adrian chuckled and sat beside me. “You’re keeping my book in the bathroom?” he asked. “Are you reading it on the toilet?”

“No,” I replied. “Why? Are your books too good to be read on the toilet?”

“Yes,” he said, his voice entirely serious. “I’ll have you know that book won four different awards and six different nominations.”

I didn’t know anything about book awards, but that sounded impressive. “It’s a good book,” I said. “I’ve been reading through it. Why did you call it Abandon All Hope?”

“I thought you’d already reached the end.”

“I may have skipped around.”

Adrian rolled his eyes. “Uncultured, plebian swine,” he said.

I gasped in mock-offense which drew a crooked smile from Adrian. He beckoned for the book, and after I handed it over, he flipped through several pages. “Do you remember the character Hannah? Have you gotten to her yet?”

“No.”

Adrian paused. “Well, she dies, but the title comes from this one line. This passage.”

He marked the space and held out the book, so I could read.

The world is a gaping hole, a void. The stars don’t shine as brightly, and the cold isn’t as sharply satisfying. It’s a bitter cold now, a cold that kills and burns like cocaine. I want this to be a dream. Maybe if I stare at my walls and speak to them long enough, they’ll speak back. Why the Hell did she have to die? In the end, I collapse onto my bed and stare at the ceiling. It is better to do nothing, to think of nothing, than to do anything at all.

Strangely, I didn’t grieve for her when I saw pictures of her on Facebook or the posts about how she was dead. Those didn’t bring me to tears. No, the things that brought me to tears were the small, insignificant things--like the realization that I didn’t know how to do my own laundry; Hannah always did it for me. The first time I try, I turn all the whites pink and nearly scream in frustration because it should be so easy! I don’t go to her funeral; I abandon all hope. Then, I move on.

I’d grieved too long for something so easily replaced.

I took in a deep breath. “Easily replaced?” I asked.

“I told you Clarisa wasn’t a nice person,” Adrian said.

“But are you?”

For several seconds, Adrian was silent. “Do you think I am?” he asked eventually.

“Yes, but you try to hide it. You don’t want to be hurt again. I think that’s understandable,” I said. “I just wondered. You said Clarisa was…”

“It doesn’t really matter. The postmodernists believe the author is dead. Whatever my intentions were, they don’t matter and shouldn’t alter your interpretation of the text,” Adrian said.

I had no idea who the postmodernists were or why I should believe them. “If that’s what they believe, I’m going to imagine a happy world where Clarisa gets married and has a ton of kids with her hot, Icelandic model of a husband.”

Adrian laughed. “That’s not quite how it works,” he said.

“But maybe that’s how it should work.”

“And if you’d read it properly, you’d know that Clarisa is unable to have children.”

“So she adopts,” I replied. “Or her gynecologist was mistaken. Or maybe the whole thing turned out to be a dream, and she never had a horrible life. He whole life was just being a happy mother and wife.”

“The author’s input doesn’t matter, but that doesn’t mean you get to just…rewrite what the text says.”

“I disagree. But tell me, if you were Clarisa, would you want more children?”

I waited with bated breath for his answer, but Adrian’s face betrayed nothing of what he might be thinking. “Besides Angelica? I don’t know. Maybe if I was having that child with the right person.”

I swallowed around the thick lump in my throat. “Oh, yeah?”

Adrian shook his head. “Yes. And you really are something else. You know that?”

“I know,” I replied with exaggerated cheerfulness.

“So are you going to spend all night in the bathroom?” Adrian asked.

“Possibly all night and part of tomorrow,” I said. “I’ll have to text Sherri and let her know I’ll be out of commission for a bit.”

“Right. Her,” Adrian replied.

“I can’t just not show up,” I said. “She’d worry about me.”

“I know that. Just tell her to keep her hands to herself,” Adrian rasped. “There are some alphas who don’t mind sharing, but I’m not one of them.”

“You don’t need to be jealous of her,” I said. “I’m not attracted to her, and even if I was, I wouldn’t go for it. She’s married and my boss. Those are two very big reasons for not wanting to be with her. Don’t you think?”

“Logically, I know that, but at the same time, you are so incredibly cute,” Adrian said.

“Cute isn’t her type. Her omega is very grizzled,” I replied. “Full beard and a very strong face. He looks like he could break me in half.”

“Really?” Adrian asked, tilting his head like he was trying to imagine that pair.

“Uh-huh,” I said. “Sharp-looking man, admittedly, but quite different from me. He’s also my complete opposite in personality which, I suppose, is a pretty crucial factor.”

Adrian yawned and waved awkwardly, as if somehow erasing his own yawn. “Sorry,” he said.

“You can go back to bed if you want. I wouldn’t blame you.”

Adrian shook his head and climbed to his feet. “No,” he said. “I’ll grab the other blankets and join you.”

In preparation for our evening out, I’d once more donned my single button-up shirt and my nicest pair of jeans, and Adrian, once again, looked far more polished and refined than I ever would. Just once, I would’ve liked to have seen him come out wearing something that didn’t have a three-figure price tag. At least, that’s what I told myself. It was difficult to think too poorly of his extravagant wardrobe because Adrian was such an attractive man and wore all those expensive clothes like he was next in line to be the Duke of Edinburgh.

“You’ve gained some weight,” Adrian said, as we stepped into the restaurant, a posh, upper scale place. “I told you that popcorn would do bad things to you.”

I’d only gained four pounds. Had he really noticed such a minute weight gain? My pulse quickened as he stepped close to me. I felt the heat between our bodies, and with a gentle caress, he closed the space between us. His finger traced a delicate line from my wrist to my elbow. For a wild moment, I thought he knew. It was an illogical thought. There was no way he could’ve possibly guessed I was pregnant.

“Does that bother you?” I asked.

“No,” Adrian replied. “You look good like this. Very nice.”

I was running out of time. I’d gained weight; he’d find me out soon. He’d figure it out so I resolved to tell him that night. I had no way of knowing whether or not a baby would make things better or worse, but I couldn’t possibly keep this up. I couldn’t hide it much longer, and I couldn’t face the guilt and stress of having not told him for so long.

He offered me his arm and led me inside the restaurant. I felt like a nobleman or someone vastly wealthy and cultured being led up the staircase. Like Cinderella and I could only hope my story ended as well as hers. A happy marriage with my prince. And a house with our baby and Angelica.

Adrian led me to the table, and I sat beside him. Under the table, I wrung my hands. I wanted him. Desperately wanted him. What if he didn’t want me? What if he was ready for me but not a baby? He’d been willing to take this slowly, but I felt like I was pushing a deadline with our child.

“We’ll have a bottle of cabernet sauvignon for the table,” Adrian said.

The waiter went to fetch it, and my stomach twisted. This was a good segue, wasn’t it? The perfect opportunity to tell him everything. Just four words: I can’t, I’m pregnant. I’d agonized over this for weeks. Why not now? When I had the perfect opportunity. I knew what Adrian should do. As an alpha, he should be willing to accept this. He should be willing to take care of our child and me.

I’d constructed a great romance in my mind of how this should go. I imagined him pulling me into his arms, holding me tight, and offering reverent, husky declarations of love. I also knew that that might not happen. He might be horrified. He might be angry. Beneath the table, I put a hand over my stomach where the baby was growing. What if he didn’t want me?

What if he wanted the baby and didn’t want me?

Admittedly, omegas didn’t often end up by themselves; usually, an alpha took care of them. Unless something unexpected happened, as had been the case with my mom. Adrian would be expected to take care of me because I was having his child, but I wasn’t sure I wanted that either. I wanted him to want the child, obviously, but I also wanted him to love me. Pregnancy confessions looked so much easier in romantic comedies.

“So let’s talk,” Adrian said.

A distraction. That sounded good. “About what?” I asked.

Adrian frowned. “What’s your favorite color?”

I laughed; whether from the absurdly basic question or from nerves, I wasn’t sure. I could do this. It would all be fine.

Adrian frowned and looked decidedly unamused.

“I guess it’s purple,” I said.

“I’d pegged you as liking red,” Adrian said.

“Really? Why?”

“Most of your clothes are that color.”

“I’m also dressed like a pirate most of the time.”

Adrian nodded. “Fair point,” he admitted. “It’s also the color of passion, though. You strike me as being very passionate. You throw yourself wholeheartedly into anything you do.”

I smiled, although any witty response I might’ve made fluttered away in the afterglow of his compliment. “And yours?” I asked.

“Grey,” he answered.

“Why grey?”

He didn’t answer, and the wheels in my head turned. “Elizabeth’s eyes were grey,” I said softly. “I see.”

“Yours, too. But it’s a nice color. The blending of white and black, darkness and light. And it doesn’t show up stains as much. That’s a nice bonus.”

Mine, too. I swallowed past the lump in my throat. “It is,” I said.

“I knew an artist who painted everything in black and white,” Adrian said. “She was red-green colorblind, and she thought it would be interesting to create paintings that everyone could see the exact same way.”

“How neat,” I replied. “What sort of things did she paint?”

Adrian shrugged. “Forest scenes mostly. She was very Bob Ross. I have a few of hers in the parlor.”

“The parlor?”

Adrian smiled. “You’ve never been in a house with a parlor?” he asked.

“Living rooms are what my people call them,” I replied.

“Your people?”

“Poor people.”

The waiter arrived with the wine. I half-wished the bottle would break in his hands and shatter to the ground. This was it. The waiter filled our glasses, and mine looked less like wine and more like blood. It was something foreboding rather than a luxury. I took a deep breath. I couldn’t back down forever. I’d been backing down for weeks.

Across from me, Adrian swirled his wine and took a careful sip. “It’s fantastic,” he said. “You’ll love it, Lance.”

“I can’t have wine,” I said.

Adrian laughed. “Why? Are you worried about me having to drag you out of here drunk?”

“No,” I replied.

This was the perfect opening. I swallowed thickly and clasped my hands on the table. Adrian furrowed his brow. “I don’t understand,” he said. “Would you like a different kind?”

“No, I…I’m pregnant.”

The words felt like a flag between us, one of surrender or a declaration of war; I wasn’t sure which. I stared at my lap, but even that wasn’t enough. I felt the heat of Adrian’s eyes on me, and I was certain that if I looked up, I’d see condemnation in his face.

“Who’s the parent? Your captain?” he asked.

His tone was carefully guarded.

“She already has an omega who she’s married to and loves very much,” I replied.

“I see.”

“There’s…” I trailed off.

Adrian clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth. “Is it mine?” he asked.

My throat was thick and made it difficult to swallow. “You’re the only person on this entire ship who I’ve had sex with,” I said. “It has to be yours.”

I dared to look at him. Adrian slowly nodded. “Oh, I see.”

I waited for it to sink in. Thus far, there was no explosive anger. That was a good sign. “I want to keep it,” I added slowly. “No, I’m going to keep it. You can’t convince me otherwise.”

“I wouldn’t try to,” Adrian replied.

“Okay. Good.”

“How long have you known?” he asked.

“Weeks. I’m sorry. I wanted to tell you, but we weren’t together. Then we were, and I didn’t want…it was selfish. I know. I’m going to finish out this trip, and then I’ll go back to live in my mom’s house. You don’t have to do anything. If you’re not interested, it’s fine, and I respect that. I just thought you should know.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. I’m an alpha. I’d be disgraced if I didn’t take care of you.”

“I’d never tell anyone the baby was yours.”

“No, I’ll take care of you,” Adrian insisted. “That’s my kid, too. You’ll come live with Angelica and me until you’re finished with your pregnancy.”

“But I can…”

“I said you’ll stay with me. You’d be a fool to refuse. With my money? I can get you anything you could possibly need, the best doctors. It makes sense that you’d stay with me.”

“But you don’t like me.”

“It isn’t that I don’t like you. I just wasn’t keen to add more stress to my plate,” Adrian said. “But here you are. With a kid. And I…I think that maybe I do want this.”

“You taunted me about going into heat. Remember that?” I asked.

Adrian barked with laughter. “Do you know how many omegas I’ve sent into heat? Tons. And the one time I decide to act on my carnal impulses and fuck someone’s brains out, this happens. The very first time.”

“You were a virgin when we had sex?” I asked.

“I have a daughter, Lance. I know you can’t be entirely ignorant.”

“I realize it was a stupid question,” I said. “Sorry. I’m just…I don’t know what to say. I can’t think straight.”

Adrian’s face seemed to soften. He rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands. “I’m exaggerating. It’s just that usually I’m not so quick to jump into bed with someone. I just wanted a little stress relief, and look what happened.”

“Are you mad, though?”

“No,” Adrian answered. “I’m not angry. It’s just…that I didn’t see this coming. I’m having a difficult time processing everything.”

“That makes two of us.”

“But I’m not mad,” Adrian said. “After all, it takes two to tango so to speak. Even though we used condoms, a child was a possibility. This sort of thing happens.”

I sighed in relief.

“So we’ll be adults about it,” Adrian said. “I come from a very old-fashioned, Southern family. I’m entirely willing to marry you over this.”

“So we can be together in a loveless marriage for life?” I asked.

“No, I don’t think it’d be loveless. I like you, and if I’m right, you like me, too. If we spend enough time together, I imagine we’ll only grow closer. We can make this work. You don’t have to raise this child on your own, and I’m sorry if my behavior made you think that was ever a possibility.”

My throat was thick. “But what about Elizabeth?” I asked.

“You aren’t Elizabeth, and you’ll never be able to replace her. But maybe I’m allowed to love you both in different ways. That’s why you should come stay in my house. I can take good care of you. We’ll spend time together. It’ll be like…”

“Like the ending you should’ve given Clarisa and Jóhannes?”

Adrian frowned. “Those two again,” he said, with the barest hint of a smile. “I never should’ve told you they were parts of me.”

“But you agree they deserved a happy ending. You agree that you deserve a happy ending,” I said.

Adrian slowly nodded. “At any rate, Angelica will probably be delighted.”

“If I move in,” I said.

“You’re moving in,” Adrian replied, his eyes narrowing. “If there’s one thing you have learned about me, it’s that I always get my way.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Is that a threat?”

“No, it’s a promise, Lance,” he replied. “But admit it. You like my money, don’t you? You like the thought of being petted and pampered, rather than having to return to wherever you came from. You like the security of having someone else around. That’s nothing to be ashamed of. You’re an omega; it’s in your nature. I’ll see you through your pregnancy, and then we’ll figure it out. Maybe we’ll marry. Maybe we’ll just live together.”

“Really?”

Adrian nodded. “I’ve been…less than kind to you at times, but now that I’ve thought about it, I’m sure of one thing. My life is much better with you in it.”