Chapter Eighteen

Lena

I wake up with a throbbing headache, an uneasy stomach and the feeling of something wet between my legs, all of which remind me of the things I shouldn't have done last night.

I shouldn't have drunk too much wine. And I shouldn't have had sex with Riley. Wasn't I supposed to be mad at him?

I turn on my side and hug a pillow.

That's when I see the flower on the bedside table--a single red rose--along with a bottle of water and a box of over-the-counter pain relievers.

I wonder who left them. Riley? I don't remember him carrying me to bed, but I can't imagine anyone else would have, especially since I'm still half naked. I don't even remember what happened before that clearly, though I do remember him kissing me and pushing me down on the dining table.

At the memory, I blush and bury my face in the pillow.

How could I have let that happen? How could I have let Riley do that?

Even as remorse gnaws at me, though, I can't help but feel just a little bit happy. At least Riley finally paid me some attention. He even talked to me, though I don't remember the conversation all that well. And the fact that he carried me to bed and left all this on the bedside table lets me know that he still cares for me, even just a little bit.

My lips curve into a smile. I'm a fool, I know, getting giddy over such a simple gesture. And I'm a liar, telling him I'll never fall for him again when I'm not sure if I ever stopped. Even now, with just a tiny show of kindness from Riley, my heart is beating fast, my chest swelling with hope.

What am I? A child? A pet?

I lie on my back and stare at the ceiling.

Whatever. I have a good feeling about this. I have a feeling things are about to change. Yes, I'm still mad at Riley for keeping me here at the mansion, but I'm beginning to wonder why I was so against this marriage in the first place. Isn't this what I wanted? Wasn't this the ending I was hoping for back when I was on the show? A real marriage.

True, the circumstances that led to this are not what I hoped, and the fact that Riley isn't just Riley Boyle complicates things a bit. But I'm still married to the first man I fell in love with. It can't be that bad, right?

But does he love you? a voice in my head asks. He broke your heart, remember?

Yes, I remember. But what if he left me just like that for the same reason he gave up on swimming--because someone else asked him to? What if he really didn't want to?

And yes, that was a TV show and Riley was just playing at being my husband. But it doesn't mean everything wasn't real or serious. If what I felt for him was serious, maybe what we had can last, too.

I glance at the rose on the bedside table.

He may try to be mean and intimidating, but I know the sweet Riley, the one I knew back on the show, is in there somewhere. And this rose is proof of it.

I reach for it and brush its soft petals against my chin before bringing it to my nose. The sweet scent drifts into my nostrils and I close my eyes to savor it.

Ah. I just love the smell of roses.

Or so I think until I feel my stomach churn. Quickly, I get out of bed and run to the bathroom. I manage to get to the toilet in time and hold my hair back with one hand as I spew out the foul-tasting contents of my stomach. I swear I'm never going drinking again. After flushing the toilet I wash my face and brush my teeth. As I stare at the mirror, the blue eyes staring back narrow in puzzlement.

A wave of nausea washes over me again. I drop my toothbrush and head to the toilet just as my stomach lurches.

~

"How are you feeling?" Riley asks as he sits on the edge of the bed that I can barely get out of.

"Tired," I answer. "I threw up a few times this morning, so yeah, I feel a bit weak."

He glances at the cloche on the dining cart. "Did you eat?"

I nod.

He lifts the cloche and his eyebrows crease. "What is that?"

"Rice with peanut butter and cheese," I answer.

He throws his puzzled look at me. "What?"

I shrug. "The soup that the kitchen sent me made me throw up even more, and for some reason I was craving for rice. And peanut butter. And cheese."

His eyebrows rise. "All in the same dish?"

I nod. "I couldn't finish the whole thing, though."

Riley grabs the spoon and tastes the dish. He grimaces. "I'm surprised this isn't making you throw up more."

I give another shrug. I hadn't tried the combination before either, but somehow I just thought of it and somehow it just works. Who knows? I may be on to a new recipe.

He covers the dish with the cloche. "And how's your head?"

"Feels a little heavy but it doesn't hurt anymore," I answer as I sink further into the pillow.

"Did you drink the pain relievers?"

"No. I'd just throw it up anyway and when I was done throwing up, my head wasn't hurting so much."

Riley nods. "So you feel fine now?"

"Pretty much," I answer. "But I'm never getting drunk again."

"Good." He stands up. "While I like the fact that you're more into sex when you're drunk, I prefer a sober partner."

My eyes grow wide at the remark. I blush and look away.

Wait. I was more into sex? What does that mean?

"Why did you drink that whole bottle of wine in the first place?" Riley asks.

"I didn't drink the whole bottle," I argue.

Judy and I had a few glasses each. Maybe she even had more because I was drinking so slowly.

"Yeah, yeah." He doesn't believe me. "So why?"

I think of mentioning Judy but don't. I don't want to get her into trouble.

"Why not? I'm bored here locked up in your castle."

Riley sighs. "If only you promised you wouldn't..."

He stops then shakes his head. "We'll talk again about this tomorrow. For now, you should rest."

I frown because I'm curious to hear what he was going to say, but then I nod.

"Okay. I should be back on my feet tomorrow."

~

But I'm not. In the middle of the night, I wake up to throw up again. Same thing a few moments after I wake up in the morning.

As I flush the toilet, I stare at the swirling water in confusion.

Why am I still throwing up? Shouldn't the alcohol be out of my system by now?

When it's still happening the next day, Riley calls for a doctor.

Dr. Henrick asks me a dozen questions and then has the nurse with him collect samples to run a few tests. The day after, he returns with results.

"I've found out what's ailing you, Mrs. McAllister," he says.

I glance at Riley, who's standing beside me. He looks just as nervous as I am. I reach for his hand and draw a deep breath.

"So do I have a tumor or something?" I ask the doctor. "Some terminal disease?"

"Lena," Riley scolds me.

"No," Dr. Henrick answers. "But you could say it's something you'll have to live with for the rest of your life."

The corners of my mouth droop. I'll be throwing up every day for a lifetime?

"Just cut the suspense already, doctor," Riley demands. "What's going on with my wife?"

The doctor nods.

"Mr. McAllister and Mrs. McAllister..." he glances at me. "You are expecting a child."

My jaw drops and I lean forward. "What?"

Dr. Henrick smiles at me. "You're pregnant, Lena."