She opens her mouth and then closes it wordlessly. She backsaway from me. “I don’t know. Why the hell do you need toknow?”
I watch her eyes shift as she does the mental math. The colordrains out of her face, and I know she’s thinking what I’mthinking.
“You’ve been throwing up,” I say. “You’re tired. Emotional.”
“I just found out I was your secret mistress and I lost my job,”she hisses. “Of course I’ve been emotional.”
I step forward. She tries to back away, but there’s nowhere forher to go. Her back is pressed against the countertop, pinned inthe corner.
I stop in front of her, looking down. “Belle.” My voice isgentle, but she still flinches. “You’re pregnant.”
“I’m not pregnant,” she spits. “I’m not. Because… I can’t bepregnant. I can’t, okay? I’m n
