“Good morning,” Zeke says to me, smiling. “Good to see you out and about.”
“Good to be out and about,” I tell him.
He walks out of the dining room and I turn to find Jericho still watching me.
“I didn’t hear you leave,” I say.
“You were sleeping so peacefully I didn’t want to wake you. Come in. We’ll have breakfast.”
It’s awkward, or at least it is for me, as quiet settles around us. He makes me a plate of food, remembering to skip the bacon. He places it in front of me, then sits down himself with a similar size dish.
“You slept well after I woke you up?” he asks.
“You were really drunk,” I say instead of answering his question.
“And you took care of me. It’s becoming a habit.” He eats another mouthful.
“You said some things.”
He smiles. “I did.”
“About the cartel,” I say after a glance to the hall.
He nods, no smile this time.
“About you and me,” I add after clearing my throat and turning my attention fully to my plate.
“I remember, Isabelle.” I glance his way quickly. “I meant it, in case you’re wondering.”
I put my fork down and study him. There, buried deep beneath the surface, I think I glimpse that man of last night. Just a quick sighting of that other, vulnerable creature. “I meant it too when I said it.”
“I’m sorry about what I did to you at the chapel. I’m sorry I scared you. I know you didn’t take those pills.”
“You believe me?”
“Your cousin confirmed the number she’d given you.”
“Ah.” I wipe my mouth with my napkin, suddenly having no appetite. “You believed Julia over me. That’s nice. Doesn’t sting at all considering you hate her.”
His expression darkens. “No, I don’t believe her over you. I just had corroborating evidence.”
“Do you hear yourself?”
He wipes his mouth, clears his throat. “You know what, I do.”
His phone buzzes in his pocket, he reads something on the screen, then tucks it away and stands. He walks behind my chair, wraps a hand around my cheek and leans down so his mouth is at my ear. My heartbeat picks up at having him so close. His hand is warm, his big body at my back makes me shudder with conflicting emotions. I want this man like I’ve never wanted anyone before, but he is both vengeful and broken. And as much as he may mean it when he says he loves me, he also warned me last night, didn’t he? He’s cursed. Everyone he loves gets hurt. I need to be careful.
“I can’t change overnight, but I’m trying,” he says. He’s so close his breath tickles my ear making me shudder. He kisses the corner of my mouth, then turns me and kisses me deeply. “We both have to learn to trust each other. Okay?”
I nod because I can’t really speak. My heart is hammering against my chest. I don’t know if it’s pregnancy hormones or what, but I don’t think I can form words right now.
He smiles, draws back. He must see all those things on my face.
“Eat your breakfast. I have a surprise for you this morning.”
“What surprise?” I ask as he takes his phone out of his pocket and heads out of the dining room.
“After breakfast we’ll go to Dr. Barnes’s office for your first ultrasound.”
“Ultrasound?”
“We’ll see the baby today, Isabelle. You want that, don’t you?”
I smile and nod. Because yes, I do want that. I would love that, actually.
We arrive at Dr. Barnes’s office at a little before noon and are immediately shown through the lavish waiting area into his office. It’s large and as comfortable as can be, I guess, given the bright lights and sterile setting. The men shake hands and talk while the nurse shows me to a small room where I change into a gown. Once I’m ready, she leads me back to where the doctor is explaining something about the ultrasound machine to Jericho.
“Hop on up here, Mrs. St. James, and we’ll get a first glimpse of your baby,” Dr. Barnes says, smiling, appearing a totally different man than the one who was at the house when I found out I was pregnant. The moment I knew what Jericho had done. How everything has changed in such a short amount of time.
Jericho stands at the head of the table as I get situated, the gown covering me as I set my socked feet in the stirrups.
“This will be a transvaginal ultrasound,” Dr. Barnes explains, rolling himself toward the lower half of the table. Jericho takes my hand, surprising me, and I glance back at him. I’m nervous. I have no idea why but I’m nervous. And he looks a little like I feel, too.
He meets my eyes and squeezes my fingers. I remember what he said this morning. About how he’s trying but it will take time. About learning to trust each other. I squeeze back just as I feel the wand enter, the gel so cold it makes me shudder.
But I don’t have a chance to consider the discomfort or anything else, because I hear it. The first sounds of our baby. Before I turn my head to look at the monitor, Jericho’s hand tightens around mine and my eyes fill up with warm tears. My chest swells as I listen to the quick, strange echo of my baby’s heartbeat.
“There he or she is,” Dr. Barnes says. “We won’t know the sex just yet, if you want to know at all.”
“No,” I say quickly, glancing up to Jericho to find his eyes locked on that monitor. “We don’t want to know the sex.”
Jericho glances down at me. Nods. “As you wish.” He shifts his gaze back to the monitor as I do too, and we watch this tiny blob that doesn’t look exactly like a baby. Dr. Barnes measures this and that, explaining things I don’t hear because I’m too busy listening to that little heartbeat. Watching the tiny life on the screen. Wholly enthralled.
We leave an hour later and, in my hand, I’m clutching about two dozen photographs of the baby.
“Angelique will love to see these,” I tell him absently as we climb into the backseat of the car. I don’t know this driver. He’s new since Dex is gone. I glance to Jericho as he closes the door behind himself. “When will she be back?”
“I’m not sure yet.”
His expression darkens and I remember the other part of our lives. The one where we’re not a normal couple who just had the first glimpse of their baby.
We’re a couple dealing with people who mean us harm. Where the threat is real enough to Jericho that he sent his little girl away to keep her out of danger.
“What did you find out in the autopsy?” I ask, the happy mood vanished almost as if it wasn’t even there at all.
He looks at me. “I’ll deal with that. You don’t have to worry about that.”
I study him and I think he means well. I do. But this is about me too.
“There is something then?” There is. I don’t know how I know, but I do. “He didn’t die of a heart attack, did he?”
He sighs, but neither confirms nor denies, at least not verbally. He just keeps his gaze straight ahead as we get to the next place. The next surprise, I guess. The car pulls up in front of Cotton Candy and I can see from the windows that it’s completely empty inside. The lights are on and I see Megs at the counter typing on her laptop, a mug at her side.