68. Tatum

TATUM

It's stress.

Stress and exhaustion and everything else I've been dealing with for the past few weeks.

That's all it is.

Just my body proving to me that everything has been just a little bit too much.

It has to be.

With my head spinning and panic making my entire body tremble, I manage to get through my morning meetings. But I barely remember a word that was said or what was agreed.

By the time lunch rolls around, I'm a mess.

I want to believe that all the lies I'm telling myself are true.

But deep down, I know they're not.

This is more than stress. More than exhaustion.

It's the reason I haven't felt right. Why I haven't been sleeping, and why I'm so unbelievably tired because of it.

But for as distracted by the turns in my life as I have been, I know that I haven't failed to take my contraception. I'm as confident about taking that as I am that I'm breathing.

It's why I should be able to believe that this is a false alarm.

But I'm also not naive enough to think there still isn't a chance. A slim one, sure, but this happens to women around the world every day.

I groan, dropping my head into my hands. I should have put up a fight about him not using condoms. I should have kept my head screwed on and put every single kind of obstacle in the way.

I should have…I should have done so, so many things in the past few weeks.

This is up there with one of the biggest mistakes, but so is falling for Kingston. Because that's where I'm at right now.

There. I've said it. Or at least thought it. I have fallen for my husband. For the man who is meant to be no more than a business deal.

Blinking back tears, I push my chair out behind me, throw my bag over my shoulder and hold my head high as I walk toward my office door.

It's still a little early for lunch, and I'm certainly not hungry, but I can't sit here any longer.

I need answers.

Once I know the truth, then I can figure out what I do next.

Thankfully, I make it to the elevator without having to interact with anyone.

The elevator is full of others all heading out for an early lunch, but they all ignore me, too lost in their own conversations and worries to pay attention to me.

It's not until I get to the exit that someone finally speaks to me.

"Are you okay, Mrs. Callahan?" Garrett the doorman asks.

I give him a double take, my brain misfiring at the name he calls me.

"Y-yeah, thank you."

"I hope you don't mind me saying, but you look very pale. Is there anything?—"

"I'm fine," I say in a rush. "Haven't eaten."

"Mrs. Ca?—"

"Tate," I remind him.

"Go and get yourself something good for lunch, Tate. You've got to look after yourself."

"Thank you," I whisper before blowing out of the building and finally inhaling in a deep breath of fresh air. Not that it does a lot. It doesn't give me answers or make the situation any better.

"Tatum Callahan, can we ask you a few questions about the future of Warner Group? We understand your father left?—"

I hold my hand up and keep my head down, letting the lingering reporters know that I'm not interested in talking to them.

I don't look up until they're well behind me, and when I do, I find Lewis lingering in Kingston's car beside me, ready to whisk me away.

"Can I take you somewhere, Ms. Tate?"

Emotion bubbles up my throat, and I almost start sobbing there and then on the sidewalk.

"Thank you," I whimper.

I shouldn't. I should call an Uber, because no matter where Lewis takes me, he'll report back to Kingston.

But I can't stop myself from climbing into the back of the car and slamming the door on the rest of the world.

"Are you okay?" Lewis asks, his eyes on me in the rearview mirror.

"Yeah. Please could you take me to the mall?" I ask.

"Of course. Sit back and relax, I'll have you there as soon as possible."

"Thank you, Lewis. I really appreciate it."

As I get comfortable, I consider how not so long ago I'd have point blank refused to get into Kingston's car or have his driver help me out. But right now, it's everything I need.

When I step out of the car in the parking lot, no one turns to look at me. No one shouts any questions. It's a huge relief knowing that I can just blend into the crowd and do what I need to do without eyes on me.

"Do you know how long you're going to be?" Lewis asks before I take off.

"I don't. You go back in case Kingston needs you. I'll be okay."

He frowns. I know that Kingston has told Lewis to put my needs above his, and while I appreciate it, I also don't need him waiting for me. He doesn't need to witness the fallout of whatever this little trip to the mall is going to result in.

"Ms. Tate," he warns.

"Lewis," I sigh, reaching out to squeeze his bicep. I've no idea if it's appropriate or not, but quite frankly, I don't care right now. "I promise you, I'm fine. I don't know how long I'm going to be. If I need you, I will call you."

His eyes bounce between mine. He's conflicted. I hate putting him in this position, but it is what it is.

"Okay," he finally concedes. "But call me, please."

"I will. Have a good afternoon," I say, forcing a smile that I don't feel onto my lips.

"You too, Ms. Tate."

I wait long enough for him to pull the driver's door open and drop into the seat before taking off.

I should probably wait until I see the car disappear, but I'm too impatient to get my answer.

I've never been very good with the unknown, and now is just more proof of that.

My legs move as fast as physically possible in my heels and before I know it, I'm marching through the doors to the pharmacy.

With my heart in my throat and my hands trembling violently, I find the section I need and scan the shelves.

I've no idea what I want or which is the best.

I've never done this before.

In all my adult years, I haven't once had a serious enough false alarm to have to resort to this. It was something I was fairly proud of, considering that I haven't been any kind of angel.

But I guess all good luck comes to an end eventually.

I finally grab a box that promises the most accurate results on the market—probably bullshit from their marketing department, but whatever—and take it to the cashier.

I don't know what I expected, but the kind, middle-aged woman scans the test through the register without giving me any kind of judgment. I mean, why should she? As far as anyone else is concerned, I'm a grown-ass woman with a ring on my finger.

If only they knew the truth about my current situation…I bet she'd begin judging in a heartbeat if she knew I only said my vows to secure a cottage. And Kingston only agreed until death do us part so that he could take over my family's company.

I shake my head, trying to forget about reality as I tuck the box in my purse and walk back out of the store in search of a place to discover my fate.

I should probably go home.

Home…

Where even is my home right now?

Without thinking too much about it, I find the closest bathroom and lock myself inside a stall.

It is nowhere near the ideal place to do this, but I can't wait to get back to Kingston's apartment.

I need to know if all this freaking out and panicking is for nothing.

Or if…

I blow out a slow, calming breath in an attempt to get myself together before doing this, but it does very little to settle the riot inside me.

Pulling the box from my purse, I rip into the plastic covering and pull out the test and instructions. I scan the text, taking note of the important parts I need to remember before pulling my skirt up around my waist, dropping my panties, and lowering my ass to the toilet.

"Here goes nothing," I whisper to myself as the sounds of other women using the facilities float around me.

You're going to have to tell your unborn child that you did your test in a public bathroom….

Those thoughts do not help my performance anxiety in any way as I sit there trying to do my thing.

It takes longer than it should but eventually, I pee, all the while praying that at least some of it has hit the stick as it should.

Once I'm done, I pull it free, place the cap on it and lay the test on top of the toilet roll dispenser as I clean up. Then I lower the toilet seat and just wait.

I stare down at my watch, refusing to look away from it until the two minutes are up. I don't want any confusion or any false hope if I look too soon and the true answer hasn't developed. I did that with a Covid test before and the disappointment was real. I do not need my emotions put through any more right now.

But as I sit there, all I can see is one answer. And it's not the easy one where I stare at a single line, throw the test in the bin and continue on with my life, having learned a very important lesson—always use condoms. But the one where I do have another life growing inside me.

Kingston is going to be furious.

But that's only the beginning of my spiraling fears.

What if he thinks I did this on purpose?

There is no reason why he would. It's not like I'm trying to steal his money, or his power, or even him as a person. I have everything I could need already, or at least I will after our year of marriage.

But knowing all that doesn't stop the irrational thoughts from coming.

What if he divorces me? Then what?

I'll be left with nothing.

We'll be left with nothing.

No money, no job, no cottage.

No. Miles wouldn't let that happen.

Lori wouldn't let that happen.

But…

The time changes and my heart seizes.

It's time.

"Fuck," I breathe, shaking out my hands and then tucking my hair behind my ears nervously.

I reach out, plucking the upside-down test from the dispenser, and close my eyes.

Just look, Tatum. Discover your fate.

Everything else will fall into place.

Trust the process.

Trust the process…

Spinning the test around, I force my eyes open and stare down at my answer.

My stomach rolls instantly, and before any thoughts hit me, my knees collide with the dirty tile floor and I heave into the toilet.