CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

ESPRIT DE CORPS

( — a sense of unity and of common interests and responsibilities, as developed among a group of persons closely associated in a task, cause, enterprise, etc. )

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          MICHAELA FOUND OUT SHE WAS PREGNANT OVER A MONTH AGO. While her period had never been late for over ten years, which was when she finally started taking the pill, she really wanted to believe the reason it hadn't come on the day it was supposed to was all the stress she was under at the time—either that or how she had conveniently stopped taking it earlier this year.

          She tried to convince herself of that for a few days. Really, she did.

          When the symptoms began to show, she knew it was too late and she had really, really screwed things up this time. By the time she took all those tests—she almost went through an entire box of tests, as all the ones she had taken surely had to be wrong, there must have been some sort of a mistake—she was already feeling nauseated and exhausted all the time, even after a relatively calm night of sleep.

          It runs in the family, though. Women start showing pregnancy symptoms around the fourth or fifth week and she was no exception to that, but they had something she didn't—they had the father of the baby with them, and they were certain they'd be supported, whatever their following decisions would be.

          Michaela felt nothing as she sat on her bathroom floor, surrounded by positive pregnancy tests. She hadn't properly closed the sink faucet and it dripped onto the porcelain surface, marking each second that passed, and all she wanted to do was breathe; calling someone was not an option, as she had no idea who she could talk to. It felt truly awful, as she wanted to think maybe Lila, Ginny and Jillian would be open for conversation, maybe Kelsey would have some words of comfort, maybe Roya would drop the snarky attitude and be supportive, maybe Lennox would make some lighthearted joke to ease the tension, maybe Lincoln would pick up the phone.

          Maybe her parents wouldn't be as furious as she thought they'd certainly be.

          That's why she didn't call them. Though there was a possibility of them not being angry, they'd still be disappointed—even if she's twenty-seven, even if she is in a stable financial situation, even if she knows how to take care of herself. They'd be disappointed because she should know better, especially when taking into consideration who the baby's father is—embryo, not baby, she tried to remind herself, as it made it a little bit easier to distance herself from the situation—when she should be the reckless one.

          They both made a mistake that night by not giving a damn about the consequences of their actions. All they could think about was each other and that moment, meaning everything else was secondary—including safety. Granted, things could have gone a lot worse and having a baby definitely isn't the worst possible outcome—Michaela is around seventy-five percent sure she can do this on her own, at least at the moment, and hopes it will only increase from now on—but it's not like everything was picture perfect.

          Thus, she decided to keep her mouth shut about the human being growing inside her and kept living her life, attending doctor's appointments as often as possible to make sure she was doing everything she's supposed to, ensuring her safety and the baby's—working out as often had to go, along with wine, other alcoholic beverages, and her ten daily cups of coffee, and she has to follow a meal plan, as her meals were clearly not enough to properly sustain one human being, let alone two.

          Baby. Even now, when she's already two months into the pregnancy, it still feels so strange to think of it in such terms.

          "You're kidding, right?" Lennox questions, bringing her back to the present time, and she looks up, her heart hammering against her chest. Her emotions have been acting up quite often lately, and she goes through periods when all she wants to do is bawl her heart out against her pillow. Unfortunately, this is one of those times, as she didn't expect him to react this way—out of everyone, he's the one who's supposed to believe, both her and in her. "No way. How far along are you? Because we—"

          "Two months," she replies, sniffling, and his dark eyes soften as he takes a step forward. "It's not yours. I'd be showing already if it was and we . . . we were safe. You'd figure one of the rare times Lincoln doesn't meticulously think about what he does—before, during, and after—happens to be the time I get pregnant."

          Lennox sighs, shoving his hands into the pockets of his jeans. "Damn, Michie. I didn't even know a demon could get pregnant"—she narrows her eyes at that comment, but, deep down, she's secretly glad things around them are finally light enough to let them joke about such things—"especially a demon your size. Are you sure there really is something in there?"

          "Pretty sure." She pulls her phone out of her blazer's pocket and, after unlocking it, selects a folder from her photo gallery. "Want to see?" With another sigh, a smaller one this time, Lennox steps to stand next to her and she holds her breath as she opens the photo of her most recent ultrasound, pointing to all the important parts. "There's the head . . . see? And the back."

          "Dude," Lennox mutters, in a clogged voice. "It's so tiny. I bet it's a little Michaela."

          "I didn't know you had a heart big enough to render you able to coo at an ultrasound"—she swipes to the left to show him another photo—"but you never fail to surprise me, Lennox Lane."

          "Just look at it—oh my God," he adds, when he finds a better-angled photo. "This might be the cutest thing I have ever seen in my life. Who would have thought half-demon babies were so adorable?" Lennox then straightens himself, clearing his throat, and, just like that, he's back to being the old Lennox. "Still. Have you told anyone about this?"

          Michaela knits her brows together. "Lincoln? No."

          He massages the side of his neck, stepping back. "I meant Jill. Ginny, maybe. Hell, your parents, for that matter. You know you don't have to do this alone, right? There are plenty of people who'd love to support you through this, even if you don't want Lincoln to be involved, but, if you ask me, I think he should know. Personally, if some girl was having my kid, I'd want to know." He shrugs and she clenches her jaw at that some girl comment. "At the end of the day, it's your call, obviously, but, even if you still choose to keep it to yourself—well, ourselves, but I'm not opening my mouth—you'll start showing in no time."

          Truthfully, Michaela knows she should talk to someone—Lincoln included—even if telling Lennox about it wasn't the first thing she wanted to do. She knows exactly how her parents would react and has been dreading the moment of the reveal ever since she found out she was pregnant, much like she knows how her friends would see things. Lila would surely be slightly more apprehensive, as it's her brother's baby too, after all, followed by Roya, but they'd come around eventually.

          When she found out about her pregnancy, Lincoln was still trapped in that contract with Beverly, much to the dismay of all parties involved, like Michaela soon found out through that phone call. Speaking up about it would, most likely, put the whole relationship in jeopardy, regardless of how fake it was, and she couldn't do that to them. She was furious, with the feelings of betrayal still hovering around her brain, but she would never step as low.

          It wouldn't even be fair to him after the things she told him when she stepped out of his apartment that morning. She explicitly told him she wasn't interested in being part of his life again and, while there technically was no baby at the time, there is one now. Michaela feels like a leech just by thinking about breaking the news to him, reminding her of his grandmother's words a little too much for comfort.

          It's not fair to tell him to stay out of her life and then beg him to come back just because there's a baby involved. Perhaps it would be best if the baby grew up with parents who make an effort to get along—though Michaela knows plenty of successful people with single parents—but, right now, she still needs her space while there's still time.

          The girls are different. They've supported her through most of the decisions she has made up until now—not forgetting her fight with Ginny, all those months ago, when things were definitely a thousand times simpler than they currently are—meaning this should be one of those. It's not like she's being irresponsible by forcing herself to have a kid she doesn't want or because she's trying to prove a point, so she'd like to believe they'll understand.

          She has grown to deeply care about the baby, anyway. Even if she does it on her own, she's taking care of it, before and after its birth, end of story—she's doing it because she already loves it, whatever it is, and not because she feels the need to prove she can do it. That's secondary.

          "I'll talk to them," Michaela eventually announces, and Lennox slides an arm around her shoulders and the other around her waist, nearly bringing her to tears for the millionth time this morning. She hesitantly returns the hug at first, but quickly finds herself clinging to the fabric of his shirt. "To the girls, I mean. I think I'd . . . rather wait before talking to my parents. And Lincoln. The book is almost coming out and I'm sure his team doesn't want any scandals to come out right now."

          "Scandals," he laughs. "Is that what they call it nowadays? As if letting people be happy was a bad thing? Yikes."

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ:⠀ *⋆.*:･ﾟ .: ⋆*･ﾟ: .⋆

          BY THE END OF THE WEEK, ALL THE GIRLS KNOW ABOUT THE PREGNANCY. Everyone reacted exactly how Michaela thought they would, but she doubts it's due to her character evaluation skills. If you get close enough to them, you'll find people quickly become predictable, but it's not like it bothers her. She's actually glad she was able to predict their reactions, as it made things a lot easier to handle.

          She'll handle her parents and Lincoln later, even if dealing with her parents won't be nearly as hard. Those two have known her since she was born and that has to count for something, even though they were a lot more distant while she was growing up than she would have liked, but she'd much rather wait until she's fully certain she won't burst into tears in front of them.

          Today, there are more important things to worry about. She's sitting in front of Astrid McCoy, the editor-in-chief of Serotinal Magazine, and is praying her eyes won't start watering by staring at Astrid's for too long. The woman, with her long, black hair tied into a tight ponytail, drums her fingers against her desk without uttering a word and has remained in the same position for the past ten minutes.

          Michaela isn't easily intimidated, but this woman does it just fine and might be unaware of the effect she has on people. At forty-five, she doesn't look a day older than thirty-five, with barely any wrinkles carved into her dark skin, but wisdom can manifest through several other ways—being the empress of Serotinal, turning it into the millionaire publication it is today, certainly qualifies as one.

          The reason they're silent is Michaela's big mouth. Plain and simple. It's late, she has just gotten out of work and had to cross almost the entire city to come here for her interview, eventually arriving ten minutes after she was supposed to step through the glass doors. The place reminds her of the UD headquarters, as there's a lot of glass, but, fortunately, all the offices she walked past don't have glass walls, ensuring some privacy for the staff.

          She just had to tell Astrid she's two months pregnant. She did it to remind the woman her commitment is to her work and she's not letting her own body hinder her, even if there's a baby involved, but soon found out she should have bit her tongue when Astrid's eyes widened. It was clearly one of the worst things Michaela could have said and she immediately regretted it, but all she wanted Astrid to understand was that she has her head in the right place.

          "Michaela," Astrid eventually sighs, and Michaela jumps on her seat, hands folded over her lap. There's fire in her chest as she waits. "Listen. There's a reason we've had our eye on you for a while now and, naturally, we were thrilled to receive your email. We'd still love to work with you."

          Michaela chews down on her bottom lip, glad she wiped off her lipstick before coming here. "But?"

          "But we understand our employees carry baggage with them, some heavier than others." Michaela stirs on her seat, as the word baggage seems to follow her around wherever she goes. "We know all about you—well, all we could find about you, I mean. The things you choose to share, not what other people think is relevant about you." Her lips twist into a gentle smile as she leans forward. "We understand people have priorities and I'm not expecting you to start working for us and forget about everything else that's going on in your life, that baby included. We also want our staff to understand that not everything revolves around their job and, if they need a break to deal with their personal issues, we'll grant them one."

          "I can do this," Michaela insists, truly hating how desperate she sounds. "I'm the only thing that has ever held me back."

          "I don't doubt it." Astrid leans back against her chair. "I know what you're capable of, Michaela, and I want you on my team as soon as you're ready to join it. All I'm trying to tell you and trying to make you understand is that you're allowed to have days off. My goal isn't to force you to work until exhaustion, especially with a baby on the way." She smiles once more. "You might be a Tate, but you're Michaela Tate before that—that's all I want you to be here. No preconceived ideas. I want you to show me who you really are, not what this business wants to shape you into."

          "So that means I got the job?"

          Astrid chuckles. "Of course. You already have your own office waiting for you."