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A million scenarios rush through my head as I gaze up at the pale blue sky above me. Blue. Will it be a boy? Will he look like his father?
Will hebecomelike his father?
I’m completely nauseated at the thought of raising a young boy to take over the throne of dirty money and murder that his father would set up for him. I wouldn’t be able to bear it.
Will my condition in early pregnancy affect the baby’s development? Will my medications harm my child? My doctor is so much closer to Adas than he is to me. I’d have to somehow sneak out and see the female doctor to have my meds switched.
Beyond all of that, my suspicion of Adas has grown more as the days go on. As I lie awake with him sleeping by my side at night, all I can think about is that damn red dress I wore on our date.
Why was there a tag inside of it?
Adas insists that we’ve lived together in that house for most of our relationship, but all of my clothes, makeup, and toiletries were untouched when I started using them. I find it highly unlikely that he would just replace everything as a surprise.
The longer I consider my interactions with Adas, the more questions I have. I feel sick to my stomach whenever he tries to make an advance on me when I should feel excited to be so close to myhusband.
Something isn’t right, and my brain is trying to warn me.
When I remember that Adas is timing me, I quickly try to rise to my feet, scrambling to bury the test as thoroughly in the sand before I hobble back to the van.
“You were three minutes late. Looks like you won’t be going out on your own again,” Adas says to me with displeasure as I open the van door.
“Oh, I’m so sorry, it was just so nice to be away in the quiet of nature,” I lie. The desert is a wasteland, and only people who do psychedelics and go backpacking for fun would disagree.
“Okay, well, I hope you enjoyed it because you won’t be doing it again,” he replies gruffly with authority.
I absolutely hate the way he speaks to me sometimes, like he’s a fed-up up with me. He’s the one whomarriedme.
I decide to keep quiet for a while, choosing my next move carefully. If he’s really my husband, I should be able to ask him intimate questions about myself.
“So, can you tell me a little about my family?” I ask, playing up the wide eyes and innocence that he seems to respond the best to.
He pauses forjusta little too long, almost like I’ve said the one thing I wasn’t supposed to ask him.
“Uh, well, you know, they’re very normal people. They live out of state, though, so you haven’t seen them in a few years,” he replies hurriedly, peeking through the scope of his gun and pretending to look for Marat.
It takes every fiber of my being not to reply with suspicion in my voice. “Do they know about my accident? I haven’t heard anything from them.”
“Your parents are both doctors, so they’re a little too busy to babysit you all the time, you know?” he continues, blowing me off completely.
If my parents were doctors, why wouldn’t they be trying to help me?
Who is this man who claims to be my husband?
A chill rolls through me as reality settles in. There’s a far higher likelihood that Adas has never even met my parents, whoever they really are.
If I keep asking questions, he might become suspicious, so I decide to stop and lie down instead. It’s clear to me now that I can’t tell him about the pregnancy. Something just isn’t right, and I need to find out what.
25
ADAS
Two and a half weeks into the stakeout, and we’re all growing extremely restless. Everybody around me has been irritating the ever-loving fuck out of me, including Erik and Gregory.
Above all,Erik and Gregory.
My patience has completely disintegrated, and I’ve started lashing out at everybody, even River.
I hate who I am when things don’t go the way I want them to, but this has gone far beyond my expectations. If I were a better man, I would admire Marat’s tenacity.
