“They’re real,” he said slowly. “The babies were just an idea before, but they’re going to be born. You’re having triplets.”
She nodded, wishing people would stop saying that. She didn’t need the pressure. Then she looked more closely at him. There was something odd in his eyes. A tightness.
He was going to tell her he couldn’t do it, she thought sadly. That this was more than he’d signed on for. Not that she blamed him. She was living in stunned disbelief, as well. But for her, there was no going back. The babies were in her body, doing their thing.
Even though a part of her wanted to beg him not to abandon her, she knew that wasn’t fair. He’d already been more than generous. The right thing, the honorable thing, was to release him. Sort of a “Go with God” moment.
“It’s okay,” she told him. “I understand. I’m going into a place that makes me uncomfortable. I can’t begin to imagine what you’re feeling. You’ve been great and I thank you for everything. Please don’t feel obligated to do anything more.”
He frowned. “What are you talking about?”
“I’m giving you an out. You don’t have to be my pregnancy buddy anymore.”
“Why would you do that?”
“You look like you want to bolt. I get that.”
He walked around the car and stood in front of her. Despite her heels, the man still loomed over her. He was close enough that she had to tilt her head to meet his gaze.
“I’m not running,” he said. “But you’re right about one thing. I don’t want to be your pregnancy buddy anymore.”
She hoped her disappointment didn’t show. She refused to think about going through the pregnancy by herself. Once she got home, she would have a big hissy fit, followed by a breakdown. But for now, she would stay in control. “I understand.”
He took her hand again. He seemed to do that a lot. The problem was she liked it—too much. And now she was going to lose the hand-holding and pretty much everything else when it came to him.
“No,” he said. “You don’t. Pia, I want more. I want to marry you.”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
RAOUL HADN’T PLANNED TO PROPOSE, but he wasn’t completely surprised by what he’d said. He’d been thinking about her a lot lately, about the babies she carried and their future. He admired her and respected her. Despite her fear and worry, she’d plowed ahead, taking each next logical step. His desire to help was something he’d learned from Hawk—to step in and make a difference.
He also hadn’t been able to get Keith out of his mind. The man had died fighting for his country. He would have assumed that Crystal would go ahead and have their children. He would have believed his family would go on. Thanks to Pia—it would. But it wasn’t right that she do all this alone.
Pia stared at him, her eyes wide, her mouth open. She tried to speak, swallowed, then said, “Excuse me? What?”
“I want to marry you.”
She shook her head slightly, as if not sure of her hearing. She looked stunned and a little dizzy. He wondered if he should get her into the car so she could sit. She solved the problem by opening the door herself and slumping into the seat.
He went around to the other side and got in, then he angled toward her.
“I mean it, Pia. Marry me.”
“Why?”
A reasonable question, he thought. “I admire what you’re doing. Most people would have run in the opposite direction, but you didn’t. And don’t say you had doubts and questions. If you didn’t you wouldn’t be competent to have the children.”
He leaned toward her. “I’ve seen a lot of different kind of people in my life. Those who give and those who take. Those who think about others and those who think about themselves. I’ve told you about my coach and how he changed everything for me. Nicole opened her home and her heart to me. They taught me what’s important. I want to do what they did—make a difference to someone.”
Her expression of shock changed to something that looked a lot like annoyance. “Thanks, but I’m not interested in being your charity case of the week.”
“No, that’s not what I mean.”
“It’s what you’re saying.”
He reached for her hands, but she snatched them back. “Don’t.”
She was pissed. Damn. He’d screwed up. “Pia, I’m saying this wrong. I want to take care of you. That’s all. I want to be there for you and the babies. I want to be a part of your lives.”
“If you’re so hell-bent on being a husband and father, go marry someone else and have your own kids.”
“I tried that,” he admitted. “And failed.”
“One divorce,” she muttered. “Big deal. It happens to more than half of marriages. So what? Try again.”
“That’s what I want to do. With you.”