Mr. Remington Got Me Pregnant novel Chapter 5

Emery’s POV

Being a woman who was once branded as infertile feels like the biggest slap in the face to everyone who said I wasn’t enough. Because the woman they called barren? She’s a mother now.

I didn’t cry or scream or laugh or dance around the room like someone in a cheesy movie. I just sat on the edge of my bed, quiet, with one hand resting on my stomach like it might keep me from floating away.

The word ‘pregnant’ still didn’t feel real, but the feeling? That was real.

For the first time in what felt like forever, I didn’t feel hollow. I didn’t feel like I was going through the motions just to survive. I felt something warm and steady and full.

I exhaled slowly and pressed my palm over the barely-there curve that would one day grow. I didn’t know how far along I was or what this meant for my future, but I knew one thing with every fiber of my being.

“I’ve got you,” I whispered. “And this time, no one gets to take it away.”

I didn’t want to tell anyone, not yet. Definitely not Portia, who would probably turn the news into a press release within the hour, complete with photo ops and legacy headlines. Not Lily, who would just accuse me of faking it to trap Landon or win sympathy points.

Landon himself didn’t even know, and honestly, I didn’t want him to. Not until I figured out what this meant for me. For us. If there was even still an “us” to speak of.

Right now, all I wanted was to keep this to myself. Just for a little while. This was mine.

I stood up and paced the room twice before grabbing my phone off the nightstand. My thumb hovered over the screen as I scrolled through my contacts.

Most of the names didn’t feel right. Too cold, and too connected to the Remington name. But then I stopped on one that did.

Isabel.

She’d been in the Remington house longer than I had. She wasn’t loud or nosey. She just… saw things. She saw me, even when I wished I could disappear.

She knew more than she let on, and she never held it against me. I found her downstairs, folding linens in the hallway like it was just another Tuesday.

“Isabel,” I said quietly.

Verify captcha to read the contentVerify