I can’t imagine the pain you are going through right now, and for me to add to that pain breaks my heart. But please know this: the last thing I ever wanted to do was hurt you or lose your trust. And I hope, at least, that someday I can make it up to you.
Sadly, I have to apologise once more, this time for my hasty departure, and I deeply regret that I can’t be with you right now. However, I trust that you and Phoebe will take good care of each other in my absence.
I also know you are probably feeling stranded and perhaps abandoned but Monaco is lovely; I have no doubt that you’ll be fine. I have also made arrangements for you and Phoebe to stay for as long or as little as you like at the Hermitage. So, please do not worry.
My one wish is that you can find it in your heart to forgive me, as I don’t think I could bear to be without you. You are my one and only, now and always.
I’ll try to call soon, my love.
Forever Yours,
Lex
P.S. Check with the manager at the front desk as I’ve left adequate funds for your stay, for as long as you need.
***
“Aww, no one has ever written me a love letter,” she said and brought a hand to her chest to cover her heart. “So, he can be a charmer when he wants to be, eh?”
I smiled, recalling his words; my love.
“Eugh, I think I’m going to be sick…” Phoebe gulped and waved both hands near her mouth.
“What? He wasn’t that soppy,” I replied.
“No, I mean –” Phoebe clamped a hand over her gob and bolted from the room so fast that my head spun trying to figure out what was happening.
“OH!” I said under my breath, finally understanding, and chased after her into the bathroom. We sat hunched over the most glamorous toilet bowl in existence, and I held her hair back as last night’s banquet made a brief reappearance.
Well, if you’re going to be sick, might as well do it in style, I thought.
After a few dry heaves and several sips of bottled water from the mini–bar, Phoebe slumped down into my lap and groaned.
“Feeling any better?” I ventured as I smoothed her forehead, trying my best to comfort her.
“You’re taking the piss aren’t you? I don’t think I have any stomach lining left after that. How on earth am I going to get through another six or seven months of this?”
“Shh, you’ll do fine,” I soothed. “If it’s what you truly want.”
Chapter Six
Phoebe and I spent the next few days hopelessly confined to our suite. The morning sickness had hit Phoebe hard, like a cement truck pounding away relentlessly, and she barely kept anything down. She refused to step out of the hotel or to go more than 50 feet away from the bathroom.
I was dying to get out and explore, but there was no way I was going to leave her alone in her state, even though being cooped up with countless questions was driving me batty.
But at least we had the private balcony where we could relax and watch the world go by, luxuriating under a blue sky. And it wasn’t all bad, we had special spa treatments in the room, too. I imagined this was probably a lot like those fancy detox centres that celebrities went to “dry out”.
However, I could sense Phoebe’s agitation, and we weren’t able to appreciate our surroundings as much as I wanted, especially when we both had dark clouds floating around our heads, polluting our every thought.
We needed to come up with a plan to sort our lives out, ‘cause it was clear no one else was going to do it for us. We had to take some responsibility and figure out what to do next.
“I really think the first thing we need to solve is how you can stay in school.” I nodded at her swelling belly. “It’s a kinda time sensitive matter, you know?”
“Ya think?” she said and stuck her tongue out. “Well, I did wangle a leave of absence due to stress, but that excuse ain’t going to cut it much longer. And if I don’t go back soon, they’ll leave with me no choice – I’ll be out on my ass whether I like it or not.”
I took a sip of my café–au–lait, swallowed the rich liquid and steeled myself as Phoebe devoured a pile of pastries.
“Any further thoughts, about you know…”
“Keeping it? Of course, plenty of them, swirling around inside here. Constantly. I can’t stop thinking about it.”
“You could always give it up for adoption,” I said, trying to be helpful but knew I was failing miserably. Then it occurred to me – had I been adopted? Or, god forbid, stolen? For all I knew, Loretta could be lying.
She sighed. “I’m not ready to make a decision yet. Anyway, enough about me. Let’s talk about something else, please?”