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Anita paused in the doorway of the kitchen. She avoided my gaze, even when I gently turned her around to face me.
I touched her chin. “You don’t look weak.”
She sniffled.
“You look sweet,” I reassured. “You look kind and compassionate. That’s why I chose you to have my baby.”
She met my gaze then, spirals of amber dancing inside velvet brown. “Really?”
“You just seem like you’re better than a lot of other humans.”
“That’s an interesting way to put it.”
I bit the inside of my cheek.Way to blow your cover, grim dog.“Words. It’s late. Your guy put up a pretty good fight.”
“He’s not my guy.”
I pressed my thumbs gently into her forearms. “Right. Sorry.”
“No, I’m just—” She touched my elbows lightly. “I’m sorry. I’m just scared.”
“You have every right to be scared. That guy was scary.”
She snorted. “Maybe not to a tank like you.”
“Are you saying you like my muscles?”
“I didn’t say—well, I didn’tnotsay—well, I mean—”
I chortled while stepping back an inch, releasing her arms. “You’re cute when you’re flustered.”
Patches of red blossomed all over her face, causing me to laugh while I stepped around her to get into the kitchen. The black appliances looked sleek in the dim light coming from the stove. I turned on the main kitchen light, illuminating the modest kitchen table on the right and the counter with the sink under the kitchen window. Outside, the sky was dark save for the pinprick stars twinkling and a milky cloud drifting past.
Anita stepped forward. She held her forehead, turning pale so fast that I almost wasn’t able to catch her when her knees buckled. I hoisted her into my arms and carried her to the couch where she limply rested on the cushions. Her eyelids fluttered. Her pulse beat rapidly through the main artery in her neck.
My canines descended. Memphis growled near the end of the staircase. Rightfully so—he was warning me against doing something that would completely destroy Anita’s chances of earning anything from this surrogacy. I was inches away from making a massive mistake.
Anita waved weakly. “Liam? Are you…?”
I caught her hand and forced my mouth shut. “Mhmm.”
“I’m nauseous.”
I nuzzled my nose into her hand before briskly retreating to the kitchen to catch my breath. Wind whipped against the window, blasting the glass with a hiss that reminded me of the cat in the other room. After managing to get my heart under control, I grabbed a can of ginger ale from the counter and collected whatever boxes of crackers I had.
Upon returning, I found Anita sitting up with her head in her hand. She had her elbow propped on her knee and her other hand on the back of her neck. She was probably just dizzy from the events of the night. It would have been stressful for anyone even without the possibility of being pregnant.
I carried the crackers to her and cracked open the ginger ale. “Here, take a sip.”
She accepted the can and sipped it gingerly, humming with contentment at the taste. I quietly noted to keep ginger ale in stock for her.
Not that she’s staying past tonight, I thought.It’s just for the future.
But despite my insistence, I had a feeling I’d be seeing a lot more of Anita than planned. Was that really such a bad thing?
She sighed as she set the can down on the coffee table. “Morning sickness, right?”
“Well, it’s not morning. It’s night,” I explained as I settled on the cushion next to her. “And there’s no way you got pregnant that fast.”
