“I like it here,” he says. His words are soft. “But…it doesn’t feel like home.”
My throat aches as his eyes briefly meet mine, then return to the water. “I didn’t grow up here. My mom died and…not that long after, I was at school. And at another school. I grew up in the states, and I didn’t feel at home there either. My father re-married, he has other kids, you know. Sometimes they would invite me for the holidays, but other times they didn’t. If they thought they could get by without the tabloids picking up on it—which is to say, if my alternate plans involved me being secluded somewhere, not photographed, or vice versa and they wouldn’t be photographed—I didn’t get invited. This country…the land, the ocean—it’s fucking beautiful. I love it. But I don’t know if I’ll live here forever. I don’t know if I’ll take over from my dad.”
“Wow, really? Why wouldn’t you?”
He shrugs. His jaw is tight.
“Do you already know for sure that you aren’t going to?”
His mouth makes several tiny movements in the span of one second—and I can tell. He’s keeping something to himself.
“Liam. I’m sorry.”
He presses his lips together and shakes his head, and my mind races with the possibilities. His dad has one daughter and two sons by his new wife. Is one of them going to take over? Is Liam’s dad changing the rules that say he needs to step down by a certain time? Is it because Liam can’t read well?
I wrap my arm around him.
I expect him to tense against me, because he’s obviously upset. Instead I can feel his body relax.
“Sometimes I wonder what it would be like if she had lived,” he says softly into my hair.
I hear the things he isn’t saying. He’d have grown up a prince—really a prince, and not a castoff. He’d have grown up with a parent’s love. He would have a little sister.
“God. I’m sorry.” When he doesn’t speak, I ramble, “I can’t understand why things like that happen.”
“There is no why.”
“What do you mean?”
“There’s no way to understand. That can’t ever be my goal, because it won’t ever happen. I just have to live with it.”
“I wish you didn’t.” I take his hand and stroke the long, strong fingers. “I think your mom would be thrilled to see what you’re doing. She’d be proud of you.”
“What am I doing?”
“Running a good business. Being a nice guy. Rescuing pregnant damsels in distress.”
I feel his body freeze in place before it hits me. “What did you say?”
“What?” But I feel the heat rush through my head. I hear the echo of my words. Fuck!
“Pregnant?” He me go, leaning back on one arm as his eyes pop saucer-wide. “Lucy, did you say pregnant?”
Tears fill my eyes. I jump up, striding toward the tent. He grabs my arm. “Lucy, what the fuck? Are you pregnant? Look at me!” He grabs my chin. “Lucy, are you fucking pregnant?”
“I don’t want to talk to you about it.” I turn around and start to cry.
Jesus! I’m so, so, so stupid!
“You are. Fuck! You’re fucking pregnant! Is that why you came here? Fuck, of course it is. I got you fucking pregnant.”
“Stop saying the F-word!”
“I’m sorry. Jesus Christ. Oh fu— Oh Christ. Lucy.” His hands close around my shoulders, and he turns me toward him. “How long have you known?” he asks more softly.
“How long do you think?” I’m sobbing now, covering my face and trying to turn away. Liam locks me up against him, arms around my back.
I feel his chest pump underneath my cheek with his hard breathing. “Is it…mine? Is the baby mine?”
I lift my head so I can look up at him. “Yes it’s yours!”
“You’re pregnant. And it’s mine.” He lets me go and sinks down to the damp grass, knees drawn up, his eyes closing. “God. God. Lucy—Jesus.”
He’s clutching his head as if it’s going to explode. I drop down beside him. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to let it out like that. I didn’t mean to get pregnant.” I cover my own face, letting tears drip down my face. “I’m so sorry I just said it. I was going to tell you…”
“When?” He lifts his head; his eyes are hot. “After we rode horses again or drank spring water? Christ, Lucy—I could have hurt you!”
“We haven’t done anything that dangerous.”
He points to his chest. “I could have hurt you.”
I raise my eyebrows at him. “That’s now how it works,” I tell him quietly.
“No? Is it not?”
“No.”
He holds his head, his eyes trained on the grass. “Goddammit. You knew when you came here?”
“Yeah.”
“I could have come to get you.”
“I was fine.”
“You traveled here alone. I tried to push alcohol on you. Damnit!” His eyes fly to mine. His hand comes out, melding around my knee. “Are you okay? Is— Do you feel…well?”
“Pretty much.”
“You’ve seen a doctor?”
“Yes. Of course.”
“And they said everything is fine?” I don’t miss the moment that it hits him: what I think must be a memory of his mother. Liam’s face goes sheet white; he sways a little. Then he fumbles to his feet and paces to the stream.
From behind him, then aside him, I can see his head dropped down into his hands.
I stand beside him, wanting more than anything to touch him, not sure if I’d set him off. Then I see his shoulder shake once, and I can’t stop my arm from wrapping around his back. I wrap my other arm around what of his chest I can reach, and pull him up against me. Liam doesn’t resist.
Half a second later, he’s got his arms locked around me. His face is in my hair. He’s hugging me so tightly I can barely breathe.
“Jesus. I just…can’t believe you’re pregnant.”
He lets out a mighty breath. I lean my face up, kissing the first spot my lips reach on his face—just below his temple. “It’s okay,” I whisper in his ear. “You might be upset about the baby, but everything otherwise is fine. I’m doing—”
“You think I’m upset about the baby?” His eyes are serious and round.
I shrug. “It wouldn’t be weird if you were.”
His eyes shut, and I watch him swallow. “I don’t know how I feel about the baby,” he grits. His eyes open, holding mine. “I know how I feel about you, Lucy, and it scares me. I don’t like it.”
He looks miserable. So much so, I turn away and start to cry again. “I’ll just go home now!”
“No.” His hands are on my shoulders once more, turning me to face him. When he sees my tears, his face collapses. “No. No, Lucy… I’m not asking you to go.” I start to sob harder, and Liam wraps me back up in his arms.
“Shhhhh.” His hand smooths over my hair. I feel his lips against my forehead. “Don’t cry. I’m sorry.”
“Why would you want me here? I’m…nothing but the bearer of bad news!” I sob into his sweater, unable to stop myself. I’ve never felt so lost and lonely. So defeated. That he seemed to like me before now—
“Lucy Rhodes, look up at me.”