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I nod. “Yes. So is being born in prison because Mommy killed Daddy when he told her caffeine was bad for the baby.” He grimaces and I sigh. “I didn’t make any. You can relax.”
He shakes his head. “Have some juice instead.”
“Mommy might still kill Daddy for trying to control her diet, even if coffee isn’t part of the equation. Let’s not forget that I’m hormonal and pregnant. I’m sure at least one juror would understand I ought to walk away a free woman.” I shrug. “Tread carefully, Beck.”
He turns away from me to hide his smoke. “Feisty Sloan is turning me on.”
“A dial tone turns you on, Beck.” I narrow my eyes, but the prickle of irritation doesn’t fade. No way am I putting up with nine months of Beckett Daniels telling me what’s good for me and what’s bad for the baby.
I stare at his back as he rummages through the refrigerator before he pulls out a jug of juice, a carton of eggs, and some vegetables and lays it all on the counter. He goes back in for a block of cheese, then turns to the cabinet for spices.
“What are you doing?”
“Feeding you and the baby.” He doesn’t even look at me, though I’m sure he can feel the heat of my scowl aimed at the back of his thick skull. “You have to eat. I happen to be the premier egg white omelet maker in the house.”
“Probably because no one else in the house eats egg white omelets.”
“You’ll learn to love them.”
“I wouldn’t count on that. What are you pulling out now?” I point at the canister he’s holding, which contains a beige powder that looks suspiciously like premium grade heroin.
“Vegan waffle mix.” He flashes me another grin. “Got a lot of added protein and minerals. Good for?—”
“The baby,” I finish. “Yes, I get the theme here. Sounds disgusting, though. I’m not eating that.”
“You’ll learn to love this, too. Plus, you’re going to need your strength. Pregnancy is hard.”
“How do you know?”
His lips purse. “I read a book.”
“You read a book?” I don’t say it because he’s not intelligent, but because he’s only known I’m pregnant one day and part of that day he was hunting for me. “Do tell.”
He shakes his head. “It’s not a big deal. A while back, I had a little pregnancy scare. I bought the book. Read it.” He goes still and silent for a moment. “Found out she lied and ended it.” He’s playing at being nonchalant, but there’s a raspy kind of melancholy in his voice that takes me by surprise.
I don’t know what to say. “Did you… want a baby?”
I might not want the answer to that question, but he’s giving me a glimpse of him that I haven’t seen before. I picture him happy, sitting in a chair in his library, reading glasses on, holding his copy ofWhat to Expect When You’re Expecting.
For some reason, it breaks my heart.
He doesn’t speak for a long time as he cracks eggs, separates them, and dumps the yolks down the sink. The only sound is the crackle of eggshells. I imagine his heart doing the same thing when he found out the baby he may or may not have wanted wasn’t coming after all.
Crack.No baby.Crack.
“I deal with things as they happen,” he says at last.
“Is that what you’re doing now? ‘Dealing with it’?” I sound bitter, even to my own ears.
“No.”
“Then what?”
He doesn’t elaborate. Just keeps working with his trademark lithe efficiency and grace. It only takes a few minutes more of his silence before I have a plate with a cheese and veggie egg white omelet and vegan protein waffle in front of me.
“Eat.” Then he turns and makes for the stairs. He pauses with one foot on the bottom step, but he doesn’t look back at me when he speaks. “When you’re finished, get dressed. We have to be at practice by nine.”
“I’m not going to practice today,” I say. “I just got kidnapped, in case you forgot.”
