“She’s like a sister to you,” I say gently. “But she tried to hurt me. So you’re happy for her, but confused.”
Saying that Sofia tried to hurt me is a bit like saying the Pacific is a big lake. Because it was so much more than that. She befriended me, pretending to be someone else entirely. She got close, and then she threw down the gauntlet, all with the aim of trying to get me to cut—or worse.
She wanted Damien—and as far as she was concerned, I was in the way.
The whole thing had been a nightmare, and though Damien had continued to pay for her care after she was committed, he’d cut off all contact with her. But I know he never stopped caring about her.
Now, his lips curve into an ironic smile. “Yeah,” he says. “That about covers it.”
“It’s okay,” I assure him. “I know you love her. Of course you’re going to be happy she’s getting better.”
He closes his eyes and nods, his body a tight wire of tension.
I move closer and wrap my arms around him, and he pulls me close, holding me so tightly I almost can’t breathe. After a moment, he releases me. “Thank you,” he says simply.
I step back, studying his face, but whatever vulnerability had been there is gone. All I see now is the corporate executive. A man used to hiding his emotions. To not giving anything away.
I frown. “Is there anything else? It feels like there’s something you’re not telling me.”
“No. No, baby, of course not.”
I nod, but my stomach twists. Because the truth is, I don’t believe him. And that bothers me. More than that, it scares me.
Because now there’s a gulf between us. A small one, maybe, but it’s there. And I don’t know how to cross it. But I need to.
I can do this, I think, my hand resting on my belly. I know that I can.
But only with Damien beside me.
7
I’m awake before the sun—but not before Damien. I’m not sure that I’ve ever been awake before Damien on a work day, and as I slide out of bed, I wonder if that will change once the baby is in our lives. When I’m up at four with diapers and feedings, and my schedule is all switched around.
I sit on the edge of the bed and press my hand lightly against my belly, feeling a bit unsettled. I’m still nervous about the baby, but the fear has vanished, leaving behind the kind of uncertainty and anticipation that is normal for facing the unknown. Even that fear is tempered by my knowledge that wherever this path leads, I’m traveling it with Damien.
So it’s not the baby that weighs on me—it’s the lingering secret. Or, rather, it’s my fear that there is a secret. Maybe Damien really did tell me everything about Charles and the calls and Sofia. Maybe. But it feels like he’s holding something back. And I can only hope that he will tell me soon. That he is only trying to keep my head clear while we are in Dallas.
I stand, then reach for my robe, telling myself that has to be it—he knows how stressed simply coming here has made me. How nervous I am about the interview today. And now, with the news of the baby and the mystery of my vanishing mother, of course, he is trying to protect me. That’s all. Of course, that’s all.
And as Damien steps into the room with a cup of coffee in his hand and tenderness in his eyes, I have to believe that I’m right.
“Good morning, beautiful,” he says, then hands me the coffee, followed by a kiss.
“The kiss I like, but I’m not so sure about this.” I look mournfully at the cup.
“Decaf,” Damien says. “All the taste, none of the buzz.”
I pretend to pout. “I like the buzz.” I raise the cup, smell the brew, and put it down on the side table in disgust. “Yeah, no. Who would have thought that I’d ever reach the point of not wanting coffee?”
Damien pulls me close and cups my ass with one hand. “We’ll just have to make sure you’re stimulated in other ways until the baby’s born,” he murmurs, then nips my earlobe, making me jump.
“Careful,” I say on a laugh. “You’ll make me late, and then I’ll blame you if I don’t get the contract.”
“Can’t have that.” He kisses my nose as he backs off. “How are you feeling? Any morning sickness?”
“None at all.” I frown, because yesterday, I’d been so overwhelmed by hormones and nausea that I’d passed out. So what’s changed? “You don’t think that’s a bad sign, do you? I did some reading online last night, and all the articles say that morning sickness is healthy, and—”
“You’re fine,” he says. “And if it makes you feel better, I’m sure it will be back. Morning sickness comes and goes, doesn’t it? And it’s not always in the morning, either. So consider today a gift, since you have your interview.”
I take a deep breath. He’s right, of course. I need to not freak out about every little pain—or the absence thereof.
“Speaking of, your car will be here in about an hour. Why don’t you go get dressed, and I’ll order breakfast.”
“Pancakes,” I say firmly.
“No eggs?”
I usually indulge in fried eggs and bacon when we’re in a hotel, but now I shake my head and smile happily. “I thought about it, but the idea alone makes me nauseous.”
Damien laughs. “See? Now go get dressed.”
I start to, then pause at the door and turn back to face him. “Why don’t you come with me? You could wait in the lobby. We could get an ice cream later. Celebrate my achievement.”
“Not a bad idea, but I have a few calls scheduled and working from here will be easier. Plus, I’d rather celebrate with something more interesting than ice cream.”
“Oh,” I say, and my already riled-up hormones start to flutter even more. “In that case, wish me luck today. Because I really can’t wait to celebrate with you.” I pause, then cock my head. “Although, if you’re thinking pickles and ice cream, just be aware that I haven’t crossed that line yet, and I’ll be very, very disappointed if that’s your idea of ‘more interesting’.”
“Noted,” he says, obviously fighting a smile. “But when you do cross that line, just know that I’ll cater to your every whim.”
His words, so passionate and sincere, warm me. “You already do,” I whisper. “You always have.”
I’m still smiling an hour later when I’m dressed and fed and reviewing my notes in the back of the car Damien hired to schlep me around for the day. I have my laptop open on the seat beside me, a yellow pad in my lap, and I’m going over the original solicitation for bids from the company to make sure that I have talking points to cover each one.