Millicent
I cleaned up the evidence of my breakdown, wrapping the tests in paper towels before shoving them deep in the trash. Splashed cold water on my face. Reapplied concealer under my eyes. Fixed my hair. Put on the mask of Professional Millicent like armor.
My phone had blown up while I'd been having my crisis. Three texts from Abel:
Meeting's finally done. Where are you?
Your car is still here but Janet said you left sick?
Millicent. Answer me.
That last one was pure alpha command, even through text. I could practically feel his frustration radiating through the phone. My thumbs hovered over the keyboard, trying to figure out what to say.
I should tell him. Right now. Just type out "We need to talk. I'm pregnant." Rip the band-aid off and deal with the consequences.
But telli
