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“I can’t marry him.” I fall to the ground in my wedding dress, the bottom material bunching around the floor as I pull my knees into my chest.
I bury my face in my knees. I’m probably going to stain this stupid dress with my mascara but I don’t care.
“Christina, look at me,” my mother snaps, her voice bringing me back to the present. “Talk to me.”
I fidget with my ring. Before she met Albert, she was probably my best friend. I felt like I could tell her anything.
But now? I feel like I hardly know her. Telling her that I’m pregnant with either Nico or Enzo’s baby is a very scary concept. “Mom. I can’t get married.”
She stares at me, and I stare at her.
“I’m eight weeks late,” I whisper.
Her eyes widen and she looks at me with horror.
“No!”
I nod and bite my lower lip, trying to stem my tears.
“Yeah.”
“Who?” She asks, her eyes dropping to my hands over my belly.
“You can’t tell Albert.” I plead with her. “You can’t tell anyone. Not until I’m ready.”
She exhales a shaky breath but nods. “Okay. And the father? You love him?” She asks quietly.
I sniffle and nod. “I do. I love them both.”
She freezes and inhales sharply.
“Do you mean there could be more than one father, or you love the father and your baby?”
This is it. The moment where I let it all out.
“More than one father and I love them both, and I’ll love this baby too.”
“Nico and Enzo?” She asks.
I nod. I use my moment of strength to make sure she understands. “I’m keeping my baby. And there is not a damn thing you can tell me that will get me to walk down the aisle to marry Jimmy. I can’t and I won’t do it. Do you understand me? I refuse.”
“Okay, okay,” she agrees, pulling me in for a hug.
I sniffle some more, and she hands me a tissue. It’s a relief to share my relationship with someone close to me.
As for the baby news… I need to think about how to tell them that. I have no idea how they’re going to react. How Albert is going to react.
Fuck, how is the world going to react? I’m pregnant. By my stepbrothers. Some may call it an ugly and shameful truth. But it’s mine, and it’s free.
Still, with my mom’s support, I feel a little bit better.
“Can we go home now?” I ask my mom as she helps me stand up.
“Yeah, let’s do that,” she agrees, moving behind me to help untie the dress.
We both catch each other’s eye in the mirror when the dress falls down my body.
I just look a little bloated right now but soon… soon, I’ll be swollen with a child.
