Total pages in book: 78
Estimated words: 75288 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 376(@200wpm)___ 301(@250wpm)___ 251(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75288 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 376(@200wpm)___ 301(@250wpm)___ 251(@300wpm)
“Negotiated?”
“I’m not interested in being folded into a situation like an afterthought.”
My chest tightens. “Is that really what you think?”
“I think I wasn’t invited into the conversation.”
“I thought you and I were having our own conversation,” I say.
He holds my gaze for a long moment, his eyes growing darker with each second of silence that passes. “That was a mistake,” he says quietly.
Something inside me cracks, and I turn before he can study its effects on my face, like he always does. “Fine. Thank you for clearing that up.”
I leave without waiting for a reply. One probably isn’t coming, anyway.
The next day, Atlas insists I go to see Dr. Navarro. He frames it as routine, but I know better. He’s worried about my mood and about the effects of the stress caused by Preston’s media appearances.
It’s those same media appearances that make it crucial I disguise myself again, and that prevent us from going anywhere except the clinic. It would be nice to visit Moon Ridge’s restaurant again, and maybe to have the opportunity to run into Elena Ramirez, but we can’t increase the risk of anyone recognizing me now that my face is in the news.
The photo of me that’s out there is with a face that’s heavily made-up, as Preston preferred me, so the natural no-makeup look I’ve been wearing these days is a great contrast. Hidden beneath the dark brown wig, I feel unrecognizable, and hope that’s the case.
Once I’m dressed in outerwear, Boyd checks the perimeter and escorts me to the truck that Andrew’s been warming up. Not surprisingly, Viper’s staying at the compound.
“You okay?” Boyd asks, once I’m seated in the back.
“I will be,” I say. Because I need to be.
Aside from the receptionist, there are two other people in the clinic’s waiting room when we arrive, and the sight of a familiar bright red coat makes me smile.
Mae Whitaker is sitting near the window, the coat draped over the arm of her chair. Her gentleman friend, the one who sat with her at the restaurant, stands nearby, reading a pamphlet.
“Stop hovering, Ed,” Mae tells him without even looking up from her magazine.
He sighs. “You asked me to come with you.”
“I asked you to drive,” she says sweetly. “I didn’t ask you to loom over me like a storm cloud.”
He shakes his head and lets out a breath. “I could go back to your house and work on that creaky front step if you don’t want me here.”
“Leave that step alone.” She flattens the magazine in her lap. “I like it. It reminds people to be careful.”
Ed arches a bushy white eyebrow. “It reminds people that you won’t let me do my job properly.”
She looks up, one of her own perfectly plucked brows arching right back at him. Her thick eyelashes flutter. “You don’t get to improve everything just because you want to.”
There’s something about the way she sounds when she says it, fond but unapologetic, that triggers a pang in my chest.
Mae’s eyes land on me then, going briefly to my middle before returning to my face. She smiles, her face softening. “First baby?” she asks.
My hand goes to my belly. “Yes.”
“Hmph.” She nods, still mostly smiling. “It’s a messy business, but it’s worth it. Don’t let anyone tell you there’s only one right way to do things.”
Ed clears his throat. “Interesting choice of advice to give a new mother.”
Mae waves him off. “You rebuilt my back deck twice because you wouldn’t admit the first plan was wrong.”
“It wasn’t wrong,” he protests. “It needed—”
“Time,” she finishes for him. “And patience. And someone stubborn enough to keep working at it.”
The older couple’s eyes meet, and something private passes between them that warms my heart.
When Mae looks back at me, her smile turns knowing. “Some projects take longer,” she says. “That doesn’t mean they’re mistakes.”
Ed folds the pamphlet and finally sits down beside her. They’re close enough that their shoulders touch, and neither of them moves away.
CHAPTER 37
KIRA
With a wave to both Andrew and Boyd, Dr. Navarro takes me back to the exam room.
“How are we feeling today?” she asks, as she checks my vitals with calm efficiency.
“Tired, but good.”
In truth, I may be getting less sleep lately thanks to my new arrangement of alternating nights between Andrew’s and Boyd’s rooms, and doing things other than sleep, both before bed and sometimes in the early mornings, too. But when I’m asleep, it’s solid and restful.
After listening to both my heartbeat and the baby’s, and possibly reading my thoughts, Dr. Navarro’s head tips in the general direction of the waiting room. “Your support system seems … solid.”
I laugh quietly. “That’s a good word for it.”
“Which one of them is the father? He’d be welcome to come in during your appointment, if you’d like.”
“Neither of them,” I say, even more quietly. When her brows lift, not in judgment but curiosity, I add, “It’s an unconventional situation.”