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“Use your core,” he urged.
“I’m pregnant,” I called, thrashing helplessly. “And I’m going to throw up.”
He instantly pulled me out, and I tumbled forward against his hard chest. My heart beat rapidly from my struggles, and I stayed there momentarily with his hand resting against my low back.
“You’re not really going to puke,” he accused.
“It got me out of the hammock from hell,” I said, pushing away from him somewhat reluctantly. He felt good, solid. I needed that after the most turbulent day of my life.
“There’s a Russian story about a boy who took care of sheep on a mountainside,” he started, shaking his head at me. “He called for help when he didn’t really need it and—”
“I’m pretty sure that’s not a Russian story,” I said. “And the way I’ve been going, you’d be wise to assume there’s really a wolf heading to eat the sheep when I say I’m going to puke.”
He snickered and unlocked the big double doors, sweeping them open to reveal a wide entry that went up to the second floor. Potted palm trees twice as tall as me flanked the hallway, and glass globe lights dangled above us. I could see straight through to the back, which was all windows and ceiling-high sliding glass doors. A white gravel path wound through more tropical flowers, and the curved edge of a pool peeked from behind the bushes. Annie would have run tearing straight for the pool and jumped in with her clothes on.
Annie. My heart constricted. Had she made it home from school okay? Had someone told Gran what was going on, or was she worrying about why I wasn’t home yet?
The beauty of the place had distracted me, and Leo’s humor was charming, but I had to remember I wasn’t here for a fun getaway. I was brought here by force, and I couldn’t leave. If I went home, I might be killed. If I left the island without Leo, I might be killed. If he was the evil man trying to kill me, I could have despised him and fought with everything I had to get away. But he was trying to keep me safe, so there was nothing to fight against.
It left me feeling more helpless than when I was getting eaten by the hammock.
I stopped in the entryway and leaned against a pillar, refusing to take another step into this lavish prison.
“How can you live like this?” I asked, feeling my throat closing up and hating the tremor in my voice.
He looked around. “It’s not hard,” he said, completely misunderstanding.
“I’m not talking about the house. The house is amazing. I’m talking about the reason we’re here. We’re on the run, hiding. And you’re acting like it’s normal to have someone trying to kill you.”
He pressed his lips together, brows coming together over his deep green eyes. To him, it was normal. He had no response.
“Why did you think bringing a child into a life like this was a good idea?” I asked. “How often will he or she have to run and hide from your enemies?” I stamped my foot, getting more worked up by the second. This was why I didn’t want to know who I was carrying the baby for. “ I thought you were a nice couple in their thirties who couldn’t have kids.”
He narrowed his eyes. “Did the agency tell you that?”
“No. But that’s not the point.”
“Did you say you didn’t want to be a surrogate for a single-parent home?”
If he didn’t look so honestly concerned that the agency had deceived me, I would have exploded at his dodging the real subject. “No,” I admitted. It had never crossed my mind, but that’s what I got for assuming. “But what makes you think you’re suited to be a single dad?”
I huffed and shrunk against the pillar, remembering the darkest days of my life when my mother died, and Dad would leave me alone with baby Annie until all hours of the night. Stumbling home drunk when he did come home and filling our apartment with dangerous drugs and stolen merchandise until the cops busted in and took him away.
“My dad certainly couldn’t handle that life,” I said.
Whatever anger he had brewing disappeared, and he sighed. “My cousins, my sister, and I all grew up in this kind of life. My father before me. My uncles and aunts. Countless other people I know. It just is what it is, and I will go to the ends of the earth to keep my child safe.” He waved his arm around our secluded oasis. He certainly had taken us to the ends of the earth. Moving closer to me, he put his hand on my shoulder. “I’m sorry your father couldn’t handle it. I also lost my mother very young, but thankfully our father could. He’s a great role model who will be a wonderful grandfather to the baby.”
Before I could argue more, he took my hand and pulled me deeper into the house. Beyond the big entry, there was a living area to the left that looked out over more of the swimming pool. Pale gray, overstuffed couches dotted with colorful throw pillows faced each other in as cozy a sitting area as such a large space could offer. Breezy watercolors and family pictures hung on the walls, and a massive sandstone fireplace brought the room together.
Instead of leading me to the couch that seemed to call my name, he turned us to the right, which opened up into a white and stainless-steel kitchen. He pulled out one of the dark, upholstered barstools for me and then began taking things out of the refrigerator.
“Reina really came through for us,” he said, beaming and holding up a carton of eggs and a package of bacon. “Or this?” He put that selection back and held up an armload of fresh fruit. A mango caught my eye and made my mouth water.
I didn’t want to give in so quickly, but he saw my avaricious glance and held up a big peach. “This? Or the mango. Ah, okay, the mango.”
Was my face so transparent? He rinsed off the giant piece of fruit and put it on a plate for me with a sharp knife. “Only if you promise not to stab me,” he said, pretending to pull the plate away when I reached for it.
“I’m much too hungry to argue with you anymore, let alone stab you,” I said.
