Bryce said, not blinking, “That’s a shot in a million. You should really have Allegra help you.”
Help you. There was a nice euphemism for an abortion. Not that they were probably thinking of it in those terms. All they could see was their prima in jeopardy, with no clear successor in sight. True, in my clan the power wasn’t passed from mother to daughter, but its vessel still appeared only once in a generation, and any girl who might be the next inheritor was barely toddling at this point, far too young for her abilities to have begun to manifest themselves.
I hesitated, trying to find words to shoot him down that didn’t include “fuck you, Bryce.” At the same time, Allegra twisted nervous fingers around one another and said plaintively, “How did this even happen?”
Margot shot her a disbelieving look. “I’m fairly certain we all know how this happened, Allegra.”
Color rose to the other woman’s cheekbones. “That’s not what I meant. Surely Rachel taught you to be careful, Angela?”
“Of course she did,” I replied with some irritation. “And I was. But somehow…it just didn’t work, that last time.”
“‘That last time,’” Margot repeated, brows drawing together, as if she’d had a sudden thought. “When was the last time you and Connor were intimate?”
Oh, Goddess. But I knew it was a legitimate question, and one I’d already answered on the questionnaire I filled out at Planned Parenthood. Anyway, the date was burned permanently in my brain, considering the events that had taken place the next day. “March nineteenth. It was — it was the night before we…confronted Damon.”
“Ah,” Margot responded, giving the faintest of nods. “That explains it.”
“Explains what?” I demanded with some asperity. Not that I didn’t want to hear her theory on the failure of the contraceptive spell, but I found it annoying that she seemed to be one step ahead of me in solving the mystery.
Her expression softened somewhat, despite my harsh tone. “The charm most likely was working just as it should, but when Damon died — when his powers passed to Connor, the only viable successor, the last of Jeremiah’s line — that small charm was not strong enough to withstand the need for there to be a new Wilcox heir. It was probably that very moment when you became pregnant.”
Good thing I was sitting down, because otherwise my legs probably would have given way beneath me. I’d never stopped to think about how the Wilcox line had never failed, not even with all the tragedy and untimely death that hovered around the family the way storm clouds seemed to ring Humphreys Peak as it towered over the town where the Wilcoxes lived. And even I remembered enough from biology class to know that pregnancy didn’t happen at the exact moment of intercourse. No, that tricky Wilcox sperm had just been hanging out, waiting for the right opportunity to come along.
Proving…what? That I couldn’t fight fate? That even though I might be the McAllister prima, I was no match for the manifest destiny of the Wilcox clan?
No, I refused to believe that. It wasn’t fate, precisely, but I did believe that everything happened for a reason. Connor and me. Damon’s death. This child. All of it.
After a long pause, I said, “That does make sense, Margot.”
She seemed vaguely surprised that I hadn’t argued with her, but then inclined her head, as if acknowledging my acceptance.
“Anyway,” I went on, “I wanted you all to know. I’ll speak to Rachel, and I suppose the word will get out from there. It’s very early — I’m not quite three months along — so we have plenty of time to plan contingencies. But there won’t be any more talk of my getting rid of the baby. Understood?”
With some reluctance, Bryce nodded, and a few seconds later, Allegra did the same. Margot’s lips compressed, and then she said, “That is your decision, Angela. Just remember that it will affect everyone in this clan, and not only you.”
“I know that,” I said wearily. And maybe if I were as cold-blooded as you, I would get rid of it. But I can’t. Not wanting to hear any more comments about my “selfishness,” I went on, “But now I’m a little tired, so — ”
“We’ll go,” Allegra said at once. At least she’d had three children, so she could sympathize with the symptoms of early pregnancy, even if Margot and Bryce couldn’t. “Thank you for feeling you could confide in us.”
After that the other two had to murmur their thanks as well, even if they didn’t truly believe them, and then all three of them left, leaving me alone in the house, which felt very big and empty. I knew I could call Sydney and ask her to come up, but I told myself if I were really going to be a mother — if even for a short time — then I needed to put on my big-girl panties and learn how to handle things on my own. I couldn’t keep calling Syd every time I had the blues.