Sancte Diaboli

Saint

The plane landed forty minutes ago, but I needed to rush to the bathroom instantly after getting off the jet. I don’t know if I like flying long periods of time. That was twelve hours, and I feel like I’ve lost a whole week.

It’s quiet, the only sound the slight dripping of a tap. I turn it around and cup my hands beneath, waiting until they’re full before splashing water over my face.

“Ava Garcia,” I whisper, rubbing water from my eyes. I jerk backward as a black shadow zips past me. It was through blurred vision because of the water, so I reach to the side to grab a paper towel, rubbing it over my face.

No one is there.

I sigh, tossing the paper towel into the trash can and rub the sides of my temples. I think I’m losing my mind.

I make my way back out to the lobby area and follow the directions that lead out to the arrivals lounge. Madison knew that this was my first time at an airport, so she outlined exactly where I needed to go. Pulling my carry-on luggage with me, I pass through customs and enter the lounge. There is a man in a suit standing at the carrousel, holding a sign that reads Swan.

I pause.

He stares at me.

I nod my head and make my way to him as he lowers the sign and tucks it beneath his arm. “I’ll take your bag, Saint. Madison is in the car.”

“Thank you,” I say, following behind him as we make our way outside.

Heat slaps me across the face, instantly confusing me further. “What? It’s winter!”

The back door of a limo swings open and I slide inside. “What is this weather?” I say as I’m closing the door. When I swing my eyes to the front, I stop.

I notice her belly instantly. Madison is even more beautiful in real life, but there’s something so obvious that I can’t help but point out. “You’re pregnant,” I yelp, the car slowly pulling away from the curb.

She shuffles restlessly, a hand on her small belly. She’s not far along, but she’s not exactly hiding it either. “Yes.” she tucks her hair behind her ear. “It’s why I called you to come. That favor I need from you?” When her eyes co

“Tillie and I get that,” I answer gently.

“Not Tillie. Bishop.”

“Oh,” I say, chewing on my lip. “Well, none of the boys have said that.”

“They won’t.” Madison rolls her eyes, chuckling while looking somberly out the window. “Because they’d want in your pants too much.”

I brush her off as she reaches for a bottled water, handing me one. “Anyway, that favor I need from has to do with your blood.”

I swallow, wipe my mouth with my hand and then place it on top of my thighs. “Okay. What do you need from me?”

We make our way through the city that Madison, I think, said was called Auckland. Weird name, big city. Not as big as New York, and with cars that drive on the other side of the road, but still big.

She unlocks the door to a hotel, and gestures for me to enter. I place my bag beside the kitchen table. I still don’t know how to take Madison. All I know is Bishop’s pain, so naturally I feel on edge with her.

She points to the sofa in the sitting room, where there are full city views from the windows. “Sit, please. I already feel bad for dragging you away.” She disappears into the kitchen, before reentering, holding two bottles of juice.

I take one from her, slowly lowering to the leather sofa. “How did you know that I would come and not bring Bishop?”

She flinches at the mention of his name, before taking a seat opposite me on the single-seater sofa. “I guess I didn’t. I have heard that you two are very close now, so in the back of my mind I didn’t know if you would.” She tilts her head, and that’s when everything clicks. She is the doppelgänger of Madison Beer. The long brown hair, eyes, face shape. “Why didn’t you bring him?”

I twist the lid off my juice. “He’s in enough pain. I wasn’t going to drag him into this, too.” I offer a small smile to soften the words.

They didn’t help, because her eyes turn glassy and her lip quivers. “I’m sorry.” She swipes beneath her eyes, wiping away the tears. “Pregnancy makes me emotional.”

My eyes fall to her belly. “So, you’ve met someone else?” I really didn’t want to ask this because I didn’t want to have to hide this from Bishop. I now understand why she didn’t tell me the favor before I left, because I would have told Bishop.

Her watery eyes shoot to mine. “Fuck no!” Her face scrunches. “Sorry. No. I—something happened before I left. Though it was only once that it happened, and Bishop and I are, let’s just say, active, I’m almost certain that this baby is his. But I need to be sure.”

I take a small sip of my juice, tilting my head. “Be sure, because?”

“Because if it’s not his.” Her eyelashes flutter. “Then I will stay here and adopt it out.”

“And if it is?” I ask, leaning forward.

Her eyes come to mine. “Then it will be his choice. He’s angry with me, and I know that, but I also know that he hasn’t come to get me, which he usually would, which means he’s more than angry, he’s hurt.”

“He is,” I whisper, gazing off into the distance, before coming back to her.

She continues. “I have my doctor coming tonight. I hope that’s okay?”

I roll the plastic bottle between the palms of my hands. “That is perfect. I want to be back as soon as possible, even though Brantley is going to kill me anyway. I might take a nap before then, if that’s okay.” My brain is slow, and I’m not processing things at speeds I usually would.

“Of course,” she says, standing from the sofa and placing her juice on the glass coffee table in front of it. “I’ll show you to the spare room. I arrived a few days ago. I had to prepare all of the scenarios that played through my head prior to asking you this.”

I follow her down the hallway until we reach three doors. One is already open, showing a bathroom, and the other two are closed, I’m guessing bedrooms. She swings open the door and gestures inside.

“There’s the bathroom over there, towels and everything you need, um, hey…”

I turn to face her, placing my bag on the floor inside.

“Thank you. I can’t express how grateful I am for you doing this. I had no idea how I was going—” She gulps, her eyes welling up. “To find out how or what I would do.”

I nibble on my lip, trying to stop myself from asking the question that’s on the tip of my tongue. “What do you think Bishop would say if the baby wasn’t his?”

Her eyes widen, her cheeks flushing red. “He wouldn’t want to raise it.”

I unzip my bag, taking out some Tommy lounge shorts and a tank. “That’s where I think you’re wrong.” I drop down onto the bed, watching her. “I think he loves you enough to accept that child even if it isn’t his.”

“What are you saying?” she asks softly, and I watch as her shoulders sag and her eyelids turn heavy.

“Madison,” I whisper gently, not wanting to upset her.

She’s obviously beautiful, but I can see that the stress has not been kind. Her hair is long and brown, but without the gloss of the blowouts I have seen in so many photos. There are bags under her eyes that show her lack of sleep.

“I’m saying that you should let him choose regardless of the outcome.”

Her eyes snap to mine, before a small smile tugs on the edge of her lips. “Sleep. I will wake you when he gets here.”