Chapter 5: Is it him? The hot stranger?

Chapter 5 

Joye

The second the doctor left the room, I grabbed Xavier's sleeve, panic clawing up my throat.

"Who else knows?" I asked. "Please tell me it's just us."

He hesitated, and that hesitation told me everything before he even opened his mouth.

"Your parents were called when you collapsed. Mine too. They're on their way here now."

"No, no, no." I pressed both hands over my face. "Xavier, they can't know. Not like this."

"Joye…"

"Please." I grabbed his hand this time, desperate. "Please don't tell them. I'll do anything. I'll figure this out, I promise, just…not like this, not with them walking in and hearing it from a doctor like it's some kind of headline."

He studied me for a long moment, something unreadable moving behind his eyes.

"This baby isn't mine," he said quietly. It wasn't a question.

We both knew that for a fact. 

My stomach dropped. I opened my mouth, but no excuse came out, because what was there to say?

"It's not," I admitted, my voice barely above a whisper. "It happened before... before all of this. Before I even knew I'd be marrying you. I don’t even remember..."

He nodded slowly, jaw tight, but he didn't look angry. He looked almost distant, like he was somewhere else entirely, working something out in his head.

“I haven’t even touched you, and we only got married today.” 

He laughed. I wondered why he was stating the obvious. Maybe to make me feel more horrible than I already felt. 

"It's only three weeks along," I said quickly. "We can figure this out. If you don't want to raise another man's child, I understand. I can take care of it. I can end it, if that's what you want."

His head snapped up at that, sharper than I'd seen him move all day. "No."

"No?"

"I don't want you to do that." His voice was final. "That's not a decision I'll make for you. And it's not something I want you rushing into because you're scared of what my parents will think."

I stared at him, stunned. This was the same man who'd told me not to bother getting comfortable with him, who'd looked at me like a business arrangement for the past two days. And now he was telling me to keep a baby that wasn't even his.

"Xavier, I don't understand…"

The door swung open before I could finish. My mother rushed in first, my father close behind her, followed by Xavier's parents, all four faces filled with worry.

"Joye! Oh my god, are you alright?" My mother grabbed my hand, scanning me head to toe like she could diagnose me herself.

"I'm fine, Mom, really…"

"What happened?" Xavier's father demanded, looking between us. "The hospital called and said it was serious."

Before I could answer, Xavier stepped forward smoothly, his voice calm and controlled in a way that startled me all over again.

"Everything's fine," he said. "It was just a fever. Low blood sugar and stress from the wedding, combined with a mild fever. The doctor already checked her out. She's been discharged."

I stared at him, my heart pounding, waiting for someone to catch the lie. But his tone was so even, so believable, that even I almost doubted what I'd heard the doctor say twenty minutes earlier.

My mother exhaled in relief, pressing a hand to her chest. "Thank God. You scared us half to death, Joye."

"Sorry, Mom."

Xavier's mother touched his arm gently. "You should take her home to rest, sweetheart."

"That's exactly what I'm about to do," he said, already reaching for my coat.

Our parents lingered a few more minutes, fussing and asking questions, before finally agreeing to let us leave. As we walked out to the car, my mother pulled me into a tight hug.

"Take care of yourself," she whispered. "You've been through so much lately."

"I will," I said, guilt twisting sharp in my chest.

The car ride home was silent. I kept glancing at Xavier, waiting for him to say something, to demand an explanation, to change his mind about the lie he'd just told his own parents. But he stared straight ahead, unreadable as ever.

"Thank you," I finally said, quiet, "for not telling them."

He didn't look at me. "Get some rest, Joye."

That evening, I lay in my new bed, staring at the ceiling, exhaustion and confusion swirling together until I finally drifted into an uneasy sleep.

A soft knock woke me sometime later. The door opened before I could answer.

Xavier stepped in, shirtless, a towel slung around his neck like he'd just come from the shower, his skin still damp under the dim bedroom light. His hair was wet, making him look extremely hot and breathtaking. I swallowed hard, trying to keep my thoughts away from his broad chest and extreme hot body and face. 

"I wanted to check on you," he said. "See if you needed anything before I went to sleep."

I blinked twice, unsure if he was the same man I met two days ago, or probably swapped now with his twin brother. 

"I'm fine," I murmured, sitting up slightly. "Thank you."

He nodded, turning toward the door, and that was when I noticed a mark on his upper arm, dark and distinct against his skin. A tattoo, small but unmistakable, the kind you'd only really notice up close.

My breath caught in my throat.

I knew that mark… it seemed familiar.

I'd seen it before, traced with my own fingers, that night three weeks ago in a hotel room I could barely remember, with a stranger whose face had blurred into nothing but the memory of dark hair and a slow, easy smile.

My heart sank straight into my stomach.

"Xavier," I whispered, my voice shaking. "That tattoo on your arm... where did you get it?"

He paused at the door, glancing back at me, confusion flickering across his face at the sudden change in my tone.

"Why do you ask?"