Page 81 of Bound By Blood and Lies

“The blood results have shown a zero percent probability of paternity…”

“What?” I gasp.

“It means the tested male is not the biological father. I’m sorry if this isn’t the answer you were looking for.”

The floor drops out from under me as my stomach lurches hard enough that I have to grab onto Roman’s arm just to stay upright.

No.

No, no, no.

My fingers clamp down around Roman’s hand, like if I let go of him, I’ll lose something else too.

“Would you like a minute?”

I shake my head too quickly. Then nod. Then shake it again, my body unable to settle on anything.

Roman steps in for me, “can we have a minute please, Doctor?”

She nods straight away and leaves.

The door clicks shut with a softness that somehow makes it worse. Tears spill out, hot and relentless, as they slide down my cheeks and my body starts to shake. Roman turns me toward him, his hands coming up to hold my face, trying to ground me.

“Fae...”

“It’s his,” I whisper as my eyes drop to the floor.

“It’s mine,” Roman whispers back.

“It’s his,” I say louder this time, as if saying it can somehow change the outcome.

But it doesn’t change anything.

“I can’t…” my lungs seize. “I thought if I knew it would help. I thought it would make something clearer and it just—” I can’t finish.

Roman’s thumbs move under my eyes, wiping away tears as they fall.

“It changes nothing, Tinkerbell.”

“How can you say that?”

“Because it’s true.”

“It’s Fisher’s.” I spit as pain flares in his gaze.

“No,” he stands abruptly, setting my feet back on the floor before dragging a hand down his face. “This baby is mine.”

“It isn’t.” I shake my head. A sad smile pulls at my lips as I try and soften the blow.

“God damn it, Fae, it is,” he snaps, and I jump at the anger in his tone.

I drop my head into my hands, dragging in unsteady breaths as I try to slow everything down, but it only seems to make it worse. I don’t even know why I’m pushing it, why I can’t just let him have this, but something in me won’t let it go. It feels like he’s not really seeing it, not really taking it in.

But what happens when he does? When he looks at the baby, will he see me… or him? And when I look, what will I see? Love… or a reminder of everything that was taken from me? My thoughts spiral, slipping over themselves as they tangle into something I can’t control. Nature or nurture. If it’s a boy, does that mean I spend the rest of my life waiting for something to surface? Waiting for him to become something I can’t stop? The thought makes my stomach twist as heat rises up my throat so quickly I have to clamp a hand over my mouth. I barely make it to the toilet before my body folds in on itself and everything I ate comes up in relentless waves. I feel Roman behind me. He places a warm hand against my lower back, moving it in slow, steady circles that don’t rush me.

By the time the doctor comes back in, she takes one look at us and walks over to get tissues. She keeps her voice calm and even as she talks through our next steps; vitamins, follow-up appointments, what to expect over the next few weeks, and I hear almost none of it. I just nod and let Roman answer what needs answering. By the time we get back to the car, the silence between us is heavy enough to choke on.

Roman starts the engine as I stare out of the window until the hospital disappears behind us.