Entangled

Chapter 5

Don't be alone. Becky's mother had texted that to her after they ended their call and, like much of her mother's advice, Becky both ignores it and knows she'll pay for it later. Hours ago, when Seth and Sasha made their way into the bedroom, they were too wrapped up in each other—and rightfully so—to hear her slip into the bathroom, where she spread the pregnancy tests out on the vanity as a stark reminder of what she has to do in the morning. One by one, she spun the sticks as if they could divine her future—and in a way, they might.

Now she can hear them fucking against the wall—Sasha has a thing for windows, so Becky figures they're close to the balcony doors—and she remembers another piece of advice from the night before. Come in whenever you like. She wants to—on some level, she needs to—but something holds her back, compels her to tuck her phone and her room key into her purse, slide on her shoes, and duck out into the hallway instead.

They've stayed in this hotel often enough that she feels comfortable in the neighbourhood at night. Still, anything can happen, even to the most vigilant, so she hurries down the hall, taking out her phone and texting Roman as she walks. Fancy a stroll?

Seconds later, her screen lights up. What, am I some sort of Victorian gentleman now? Then a door opens and Roman leans out into the hallway. "A stroll? Do I need a cravat? A waistcoat?" Her expression must be grim, because he stops his teasing quickly and tilts his head. "What did Seth do? Do I need to go smack him for you?"

Becky shakes her head. She's already decided not to tell him about the potential pregnancy, even though he's practically family in his own way. When things are certain and settled, he'll definitely be among the first to know, but for now, she appreciates having someone looking at her like she's just Becky, not a walking incubator. "No. Seth and Sasha are just busy," she says, proud that she didn't even skip a beat at busy, "and I want to stretch my legs—"

"In a different sort of way. Gotcha." Roman opens his door and motions her inside. "Just give me a minute and I'll be good to go."

Noticing his phone on the dresser, Becky grimaces. Like most of the wrestlers with kids, Roman has a nightly calling schedule so he can talk to his kids when he's on the road. "If you haven't made your calls yet...."

Roman chuckles and kisses the top of her head as he grabs his phone and slides it in his jeans pocket. "All good, Becks. Kids have been called and properly praised or scolded, depending on what they did. Wife has been adored and flirted with," he adds with a grin, "so I'm cleared for a walk. Did you have any place in mind?"

Drink lots of water, so you have lots of pee for the stick to read. More of her mother's words come back to her, and Becky chuckles. She knows she can't drink too much, but the siren song of coffee is always hard to resist. "Coffee place?" she says hopefully. The caffeine won't affect her sleep—if she's fortunate enough to get any—and she needs something with taste to it; if she tries drinking too much water for the pregnancy tests in the morning, she'll give up before she's even finished one cup.

"Sure. I think there are a few close by," Roman says, motioning her out of the suite and making sure the door locks behind him, "and they shouldn't be closing yet. At least not if we're lucky. It's a late-night city, so we should be okay." He jams a baseball cap over his head, as if it will somehow make him less recognizable. "Hang on." Leaning over, he tugs on Becky's hair. "This is like a damn beacon, Lynch. I'll get a hoodie for you." Then he goes back into his suite.

Becky casts a glance back at her own door. She should be gone by now. Every minute they linger is another moment when Seth or Sasha might realize she's not there and start to worry. She just wants a quick jaunt, something to make her muscles louder than her mind, so she breathes a sigh of relief when Roman returns quickly with a dark hoodie. "Thanks," she replies, sliding her arms in as he holds it open for her. "I never thought—"