Princess (American Princess #1)(4)
Author: Courtney Cole

He chuckled and mumbled, “That’s sort of the point, Syd.”

She closed her eyes as his hands slid over her hips.  She’d worry about it later.  The stone tiles of the foyer were rough against her back, but she was oblivious to it.  All she concentrated on was the warm, delicious weight of Christian’s body as he moved against her.

*  *  *

Sunshine flooded her bedroom, filling every possible crevice with light, just like it did every other afternoon.  It was cheerful, optimistic and really, really bright.

Sydney squinted as sat up in her bed and then promptly clutched her stomach.  It rolled harshly as her mother continued opening the blinds.  She was sure that if she looked into a mirror, her skin would appear gray.  In fact, she felt like the epitome of the word ‘ashen,’ as nausea and dizziness overwhelmed her and she groaned.     

“Sydney?  You cannot lie around in bed all day.  We’ve got a photo-shoot for your father’s new campaign mailing in an hour. You’ve got to move.”  Jillian’s eyes did a quick once-over of her daughter and she paused mid-step.

“Are you ill? You’ve got dark circles.”

It was clear that she was more appalled than concerned.  If Sydney was sick, she wouldn’t photograph well. They needed to portray the perfect all-American family for the photos, just like always. 

“I don’t feel well at all,” Sydney moaned as she fell back against her pillows. “And it won’t go away.  I’ve had this stupid bug ever since I was at Christian’s a couple of weeks ago.  At first, I thought I just ate too much or the pizza sauce was bad or something but that can’t be it. I’ve had it too long. And I’m tired constantly. Maybe I have something like mono.  Is that possible?”

She looked at her mother questioningly.  “I should probably go to the doctor.”

“Oh, that would be just perfect, Sydney.  Then I would have to explain to the world how you got Kissing Disease.”

Her mother was curt and unsympathetic as she stalked into Sydney’s closet to yank clothes off the rack for her daughter to wear.

“Pull yourself together. You need to shower. You look like death.”  She tossed a cream colored v-neck sweater and a pair of linen slacks on the foot of the bed.

“Ugh.  I feel like death, too.” Sydney groaned as she stared up at the ceiling.

She swallowed hard to battle the waves of nausea that threatened to overtake her.  It didn’t help. Saliva was pooling in her mouth and her breath smelled sour.  The room started spinning around her and she suddenly couldn’t contain it. She lunged out of bed and barely made it to the bathroom before she started heaving.  When she was finished, she curled up into a ball and rested her cheek on the cool marble floor.

“Mom?” She croaked hoarsely. “I don’t think I can do the photo shoot today. I feel awful.”

Jillian loomed in the bathroom door for a moment before tentatively approaching Sydney.  She quickly laid the back of her elegant hand on Sydney’s forehead.  “No fever.  Do you have a sore throat?”  As she asked, she backed quickly away, as though Sydney might have the plague.

“No.  I just feel like I’m going to die any minute. I’m so nauseous!”

Her mother suddenly froze mid-step as a thought occurred to her.

“Sydney, last month, when you were taking antibiotics for that ear infection, did you and Christian use condoms?  And don’t try telling me that you don’t have sex.  I’m not an idiot. I’ve seen the birth control pills.”

She gestured toward the innocent looking little pink and white packet sitting innocuously next to Sydney’s bathroom sink.

Sydney was instantly uncomfortable, feeling as though she was five years old instead of seventeen.

“Since I’m on the pill and we’re only with each other… no. We don’t use condoms.”

She faltered as she saw the glacial look on her mother’s face.   “I know that’s bad, but-”

“Sydney, when was your last period?” Jillian interrupted in a voice that dripped icicles.

Sydney stared at her mother in shock at the implication of the question.

“I don’t know.  I’m not very regular.  It’s been a couple of months, I think.”

Her mother’s face hardened into stone, her mouth a straight, creased line.

Sydney was quick to add, “But that’s normal for me.  Like I said, I’m not regular. And I’m on the pill.  I’ve never missed taking one.”

“You’re an idiot, Sydney.  How could you be so careless?  Antibiotics can negate the effect of the pill.  Wait in here.  Do not come out of this room.”

Her mother’s voice was so icy, that Sydney didn’t bother to assure her that she wasn’t going anywhere.  She couldn’t if she wanted to. She felt too ill to stand up. She simply lay with her cheek pressed pathetically against the floor until her mother returned thirty minutes later.

She sat up shakily as Jillian roughly thrust a small box into her hands, trying to ignore the fact that the room was spinning.

“Here.  Take this.  I’ll wait out here.”

Her mother turned her back on her and stalked out without another word.

As Sydney hovered over the toilet, trying to pee on the plastic stick and not her fingers, her sole humorless thought was that wagging her butt over a toilet was definitely not the behavior of a senator’s daughter.  She sat back down on the cool floor to wait, her head leaned back against the wall and her slender arms wrapped tightly around her knees.

Barely two minutes later, her mother burst back through the door to find Sydney staring in blank fixation at the urine saturated stick in her hand.

“Well?” Jillian demanded impatiently.

Sydney wordlessly turned the pregnancy test toward her.

There were two blue lines.

CHAPTER TWO

Well, today was as good a day as any to die, she supposed.  As Sydney glanced around the room, she only saw people that wanted to kill her.  Several of them in fact.  She might as well be facing a firing squad. Her precarious situation had the same deadly implications.

Even though the Ross family had smiled and acted as though nothing was amiss in front of their photographer, Sydney had needed to duck out and run for the bathroom several times.  During one such time, Jillian had taken the liberty of calling Christian’s parents.  They were now sitting stone-faced next to Christian and across the table from Sydney in her father’s den.