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“Sloan, are you alright?”
I look up at him. “I don’t know, Beck. I’m kinda freaking out. I don’t know if I’m ready for all of this.” I hold up the book. “According to this…”
My sentence dies as he walks across the room, crouches in front of me, and takes the book. “No. You’re going to be a great mom. Trust yourself, princess.” Softer, he adds, “I trust you.”
His eyes are huge and bright. There’s no denying that he means what he says. I want to take refuge in that faith.
But what if he’s wrong?
What if I’m not fit to be a mother and I ruin this baby’s life the way my dad ruined mine? I’m already terrified of setting Beck’s world on fire. Doing that to an innocent child would be every bit as unforgivable.
“I just… I need a few minutes,” I mumble, letting my eyes fall to the page of the book in my hand. “I just want to read a little bit.”
He sighs. He lingers for a moment, but eventually, he straightens up and gives me some space. I hate him for that, if only because it makes me love him that much more.
I read for hours. When my eyes can’t handle any more printed text, I get up and go to the bathroom to get ready for bed. There’s something taped to the mirror when I walk in.
I frown, heart racing, terrified for a moment that the stalker has been in the house. But when I see what it is, my thoughts go quiet.
I pluck the rectangular piece of paper off the mirror and examine it. It’s a check, made out to me, with the amount left blank. In the memo line is a note:For the first art piece you ever decide to sell. I call dibs.
Beck’s name is signed at the bottom.
I close my eyes and a single tear slides down my cheek. It’s happy, it’s sad, it’s everything in between.
He’s perfect. For me, for our child. There’s a perfect future out there waiting for us.
But only if I can keep the secrets I’m hiding from ruining it first.
26
BECK
Last night, I tried to convince myself I was imagining it. I tried to believe that the cars following us were merely on the same route we were because they were traveling in the same direction, pulled over when we did because they were going to the same place.
But even I couldn’t deny that the cameras aimed at us seemed to have inside information. Especially the ones who were already at the restaurant when we arrived. Like they’d been tipped off.
If there’s someone on my team who is working with the paparazzi and the tabloid reporters, I want that person off my team. And there’s no way it could be anyone other than my security detail. They were the only ones who knew I was going to the gallery before the restaurant. I hadn’t told anyone else.
I can’t tolerate a leak. Not with Sloan having already been kidnapped, plus the stalker and all the other reasons a guy would hire a security detail. I don’t want to throw around accusations, but I don’t know that I have another choice.
When I dial, he answers on the first ring. “Yes, sir?”
“We need to talk.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Your office, in an hour.” I’ve decided on his office so Sloan doesn’t know what’s going on. The last thing she needs is one more worry. Especially after her freakout last night. The way she’s become parenting obsessed.
I have a pregame afternoon practice today so I have time enough to get this shit straight with the security firm before I go. But first, I stop by the studio.
Sloan has been locked inside all morning. I knock and wait for her to answer. When she doesn’t, I push the door open.
And I can’t do much more than stare at her. She’s beautiful. I’m not talking about the kind of beautiful that they print in fashion magazines. Sloan is that kind of beautiful, but she’s more. She glows. She’s ethereal. She’s… everything.
But then I look closer and I realize she’s not holding a paintbrush, but a marker that she’s using to make a list on a canvas. When I finally tear my gaze away from hers, I glance at the room and see other Sharpie-covered canvases propped against the walls. She’s been busy.
A shopping list.
