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I took several slow, deep breaths before pushing myself off the door and facing the music once again. How I found myself in this position, I could still barely believe. I’d thought I was smarter and stronger than this. I’d fought too hard for the life I had to end up back in the clutches of another man stronger and more cunning than me. Yet, it wasn’t my life I was fighting for. A mother’s love was the most powerful force on earth. I had no idea until last month how real it was. My own mother had abandoned me as a child and let me fend for myself among the wolves in sheep’s clothing of my foster families. It wasn’t until the Kramers—Grandma Kay and Grandpa Sam—rescued me when I was seventeen that I learned what family truly meant. Theirs was the kind of family I longed to give the child I carried. The child I would do anything for—even live a lie.
I trudged down the floating staircase and couldn’t help but admire the pristine surroundings. The completely open space below was breathtaking with a contemporary gray stone fireplace center stage. The clean-lined ivory furniture played beautifully against the dark wood floors. While beautiful, it didn’t scream child friendly. Brock said he would love this baby as his own—it was, after all, his niece or nephew—but I worried it was a promise he wouldn’t be able to keep. Not only did my baby represent my betrayal to him, but his life also wasn’t suited for children. Brock had talked of having a wife and children someday, yet he had never been in a hurry to make it a reality.
Unfortunately, I couldn’t hold off reality any longer. I padded across the house toward the garage entrance. There I found Brock impatiently waiting for me in his Audi SUV. His look of exasperation had my eyes tearing up. What had happened to the gentleman who always stood ready to open my doors? Or the man who had held my hair while I vomited into the toilet when I was away at school and sick with the stomach flu? It hadn’t mattered that we’d never had a romantic relationship. He had been my best friend—always the first one to call on my birthday and bring me my favorite spiced cupcakes. The annoyed man staring at me now, though, was not my Brock. His former self would have had words with the man who waited impatiently in the car for his wife to come out. Was he going to start honking at me next? If he did, he was going to find himself waiting for forever.
Brock didn’t even wait for me to buckle my seat belt before he started backing out of the garage.
“You don’t look good,” Brock grumbled.
I leaned my head against the cool passenger seat window and stared out at the passing neighborhood, not really focusing on anything except trying not to vomit. “Thank you,” I growled.
“You know what I mean,” he replied, the bite in his tone obviously reined in.
“I’m happy not to go if you’re worried I’ll embarrass you.”
“Damn it, Dani, you know that’s not what I’m worried about.”
“Don’t swear at me.” I did a terrible job of hiding the emotion in my voice. I still wasn’t used to the callous way he treated me, and I hated that I couldn’t hide my vulnerable state from him.
After several seconds, he let out a heavy sigh. “I’m sorry,” he reluctantly offered. “I shouldn’t swear at you.” He paused. “I’m worried we won’t be able to keep your . . . your state a secret much longer.”
State? I wasn’t Montana. I was pregnant. Which did make me worry, but for many other reasons. Thoughts like, What if I ran away to another country and changed my name? started creeping in. Was that even a possibility? How far was John Holland’s reach? More than likely, farther than I could imagine. I raised my head off the glass, feeling defeated, and curled into my seat. “You’ve been back long enough . . . well, long enough for us to be pregnant.” How I wished it was us. “Maybe we should start—”
“If we tell people now, they’ll know it happened before we got married.”
If I weren’t so sick and tired, I would have laughed. It’s not that I didn’t appreciate his traditional views on the subject, but the brilliant doctor knew better than anyone how gestation worked. “Even if we fudge the due date some, there will be no hiding that,” I reminded him. The silver lining in all of this, if you could even call it that, was that besides Brock being the closest genetic match possible to Brant, he had come home only ten days after the, uh, event I regretted every minute since it had happened. That is not to say I regretted my child. I never would.
