“This problem is bigger than the two of you, Trace. This isn’t for you two to figure out alone. I’ll do what I can on my end, but please keep me in the loop too. Your safety is my first priority, and since you’re my son, nothing else is more important than your happiness too.”

  “All you need to know is that, for now, we’re married, and nothing is going to change until we figure out how to handle her father and the baby growing inside her.”

  “I would tell you that the baby isn’t your problem, but I raised you better than that. When someone needs help, we step in, doing what we can to keep them safe. You’ll do what’s necessary, but I don’t want you to go getting yourself killed in the process.”

  I place my hand on his shoulder this time. “My plan is to keep breathing, old man. Let me handle things in my own way. Just know that I’m not being stupid and careless.”

  “I fucking hope not,” he whispers.

  “I learned everything I need to know from you.”

  “You’re not giving me comfort.”

  I laugh softly. “You taught me well. Have a little faith in me, Pop.”

  “I’m proud of you.”

  I jerk my head back because I have no idea why he’d be proud of me at a time like this. “Why?”

  “You’re not running, even though you could.”

  “I’ve never run away from trouble or a problem.”

  “That’s always been an issue, but for once, it’s for a good reason.”

  They all seemed like good reasons at the time, but I figure now isn’t the time to argue with him. He may be older, but I have no doubt he could still kick my ass from here to the moon without getting winded.

  Now Ana and I have to figure out what the hell we are going to do going forward and how to make it out of our current situation without any more wounds.

  8

  ANA

  “Your parents are sweet. You’re lucky.”

  Trace stares at me from across the room as I make myself busy in the kitchen. I couldn’t sit in the living room anymore, worrying about my father and the predicament I put myself in. Not just marrying Trace, but also being pregnant.

  “They can be a bit much at times.”

  He doesn’t take his eyes off me as I move behind the island, grabbing ingredients from the refrigerator. “Well, my father barely notices me, and it’s been that way since I was a little girl. If I had my choice, I’d take a bit much over nothing at all.”

  Trace adjusts his position but keeps his gaze locked on me. “I would too, but don’t think our arrangement will stay quiet for long. I know my mother, and her mouth never stays closed. Information moves in my family quicker than any news network. She might as well always walk around with a breaking-news banner revolving around her head.”

  I chuckle. “I’m sure you’re being dramatic.”

  He shakes his head as he pushes himself up from the couch and walks in my direction. “You’ll see,” he says softly.

  I swallow, trying not to stare at him as he stalks toward me. We’ve walked virtual circles around each other since we got back from his parents’ house. We’re strangers. We know a little about each other’s families but nothing of substance. And we know even less about each other.

  Trace leans back against the island counter. “Do you want help?”

  I shake my head, hating when anyone helps me in the kitchen. It’s the one thing I feel like I have absolute control over. “I got this.”

  He leans over, craning his neck to look into the pot. “What are you making?”

  “Potato leek soup.”

  His nose wrinkles. “Potato what?”

  “Leek. It’s a kind of onion.”

  “We’re having soup for dinner?”

  I nod.

  He touches his chest, running his hands down his torso. “I don’t know if you noticed, but I require a little more food than soup.”

  “Grilled cheese too.”

  That puts a smile on his face. “Better.”

  “With the best cheese the store had in stock.”

  “Now you’re talking,” he says with a bigger smile.

  “Where’s the lid for the pot?”

  He ticks his chin toward an upper cabinet. No one puts them there unless they never really cook. It shouldn’t surprise me that he’s probably never used a lid a day in his life. I move toward the cabinet and push up on my tiptoes as I pull open the cabinet. I stretch, reaching inside and feeling around for the lid. The first one I pull out is way too small. I set it on the counter next to me and reach deeper into the cabinet, looking for the right size.

  I overextend, immediately feeling a sharp pain in my abdomen, making me stagger backward and crouch over. The wind is knocked out of me as I stare at the pristine tile floor and hold in the scream that’s climbing up my throat.

  Before I can right myself and suck in a deep breath, Trace is at my side, scooping me off my feet. He carries me to the couch so softly and quickly, I don’t even have time to react. He sets me down gently and kneels on the floor in front of me.

  “The baby,” he whispers, touching my cheeks so tenderly tears almost pool in my eyes. “Should I call an ambulance?”

  I shake my head, not trusting my voice as I try to breathe and ignore the slight cramp left behind. “I’m…okay,” I stagger out. I inhale deeply, touching the spot on my lower belly where the stabbing pain almost took me down. “Give me a minute.”

  “You should at least go to the hospital,” he says to me, looking like he’s about to go into full-on panic mode.

  “I just strained a muscle,” I tell him, trying to keep the panic out of my voice. I think I only strained a muscle. I hope that’s all it is. I haven’t seen a doctor yet and have no one to call to alleviate any anxiety I have in this moment. But I know one thing for sure—I don’t want to go to the hospital.

  “My aunt’s a doctor. Let me call her.” His eyes plead with me, making it damn near impossible to tell him no.

  I don’t answer. I hate doctors. Each and every one of them. And if something is wrong…

  “Please, Ana. For my sanity, along with the health and safety of you and the baby.”

  “Okay,” I whisper.

  He doesn’t move from my side as he reaches into his back pocket and retrieves his phone. A few taps of the screen later and a woman answers.

  “Hey, Trace. What’s up, kid?”

  “Are you busy, Auntie?”

  “Just out and about getting some shopping done. You need something?”

  “Can you swing by my place?”

  “What’s wrong?”

  “I have a…friend…over, and she’s pregnant…”

  “I’m on my way, kid. Explain when I’m there,” she says and disconnects the call.

  I let out the breath I’ve been holding. “You shouldn’t have bothered her,” I tell him.

  He cups my hands in his. “Hush.”

  I jerk my head back. “Hush?”

  “I’m taking no chances with your life or the life of the baby. If my aunt says you need to go to the hospital, you’re going. Okay?”

  It’s hard to say no to him when he’s staring at me like everything hinges on me being all right. “Okay,” I reply. “But I’m fine. You bothered her for nothing.”

  “No such thing,” he says, running his thumb back and forth over my fingers. “Making sure you’re safe is my top priority.”

  “Why are you so nice?” My gaze drops to where our hands are connected, liking the way his look holding mine.

  He’s been nicer to me than any man in my life, no matter how brief their stay. Most guys wanted to get with me to get closer to my father or my money. No one had truly been interested in me. It’s why I sometimes hooked up with random tourists and had whirlwind affairs for the short amount of time they were in town. They had no motive besides fun, and I loved that about the brevity of our relationships. They had no agenda, and I didn’t have any expectations.

  “Why would I be mean?” he replies.

  “You don’t have to be mean, but you sure as hell have every right to be indifferent.”

  He closes his eyes and pulls in a long, deep breath. “Fuck. What kind of people do you have in your life?”

  I ask myself that question all the time. I try to avoid the world I came from. There isn’t much for me, especially not love, understanding, and compassion. The world of my brother and my father is dog-eat-dog. Nothing I ever wanted to be a part of, but no matter how hard I tried to escape it, everything seemed to follow me.

  “You’re my wife, Ana,” he says, like it means something so much more than I assumed it did to him.

  “Not for long, Trace.”

  He reaches up with his left hand, pushing against my chin with two fingers until our eyes meet. “I don’t care if it’s one week, two years, or our entire lifetime, you’re my wife in this moment, and you’re a person with feelings. There’s no way I’m going to let you be in pain and be indifferent to you. I’m not like the other men in your life.”

  The moment is too real. Too much. My belly flips and my chest aches to have the love of a man like Trace. I don’t know how it would feel to be cared for and loved by someone like him, but I can only assume it would be amazing.

  I try to look away, but he keeps my face pointed straight toward him. “I will protect you, Ana. From your father and anyone or anything that comes your way. For as long as you’re mine, I’ll keep you safe.”

  My belly flips even harder with those words, and the look in his eyes has my heart fluttering uncontrollably. Damn it. I hate that he’s handsome, kind, and protective. I hate how sweet he is toward me even though I probably don’t deserve it.

  “You don’t have to, though,” I remind him. “There’s no reason for you to stay married to me. You’re safe from my father.”

  He closes his eyes again, pulling in a deep breath. Something I’ve seen him do more than once when he’s exasperated or trying to contain an emotion that isn’t favorable. “And what about you?”

  I shrug. “What about me?”

  “Are you safe?”

  “Doesn’t matter,” I mumble. “I’ll figure it out. I always do.”

  “Not good enough. You saved my life, Ana. I could’ve died, and you risked your life to make sure I stayed alive. It’s my turn to repay you and protect you and your unborn child at all costs.”

  “But…”

  He shakes his head. “No buts. I’m right where I want to be and with who I want to be with. I know I could end things this minute, but I’m not built like that. I wasn’t raised to be like that. And if I’m honest, you’re not hard on the eyes.” There’s a slight smile on his face when he says the last part.

  “Not hard on the eyes?”

  He laughs, breaking the tension. “I want you here.”

  “For how long?”

  It’s his turn to shrug. “For as long as is necessary.”

  “Forever?” I ask, knowing the answer.

  “Weirder things have happened,” he says, almost flooring me.

  “Like what?”

  “I was kidnapped and almost killed. Never thought that would happen in my lifetime. I was also rescued by a girl.”

  “A woman,” I correct him.

  “A wife is probably the least-weird thing to happen to me in the last forty-eight hours.”

  Before I can say anything else, there’s a knock on the door. Trace is on his feet in an instant. I try to rise, but he touches my shoulder, pushing me back down into the couch. “Stay here,” he commands, and for some weird reason, my ass collapses back into the cushions without an ounce of thought.

  I hate being told what to do, but it’s always been because they were trying to control me for someone else’s benefit. I don’t feel that way with Trace. There’s a different sort of security with him that I’ve never felt before, not even with my father.

  Trace opens the door to an older woman with long dark curls and wearing a flowery sundress. “What happened?” she asks as she steps into the apartment, carrying an old black medical bag.

  “Ana’s pregnant—not far along, though—and she reached into a cabinet and had a shooting pain,” he explains to her.

  Her eyes are glued to me as she walks toward the couch, kneeling in front of me the same way Trace had. “Hi, Ana. I’m Mia.”

  “Hi,” I say, running my hand over the spot where I felt the pain.

  “Are you still in pain?” she asks.

  I shake my head. “It was only a minute, and then it was gone.”

  “How far along are you?”

  “About six weeks.”

  “Any health conditions?”

  I shake my head.

  She opens the bag, grabbing her stethoscope and a blood pressure monitor. I barely have time to think before she has the machine running and is listening to my heart.

  “BP is normal,” she informs Trace. “Heart sounds strong.” She moves the stethoscope to my abdomen, listening for something.

  “Do you think I hurt her?”

  “Her?” she asks, peering up at me with her big hazel eyes.

  “I think it’s a girl,” I tell her, hoping my intuition is right, but I will be happy with the baby just being healthy.

  She removes the stethoscope from her ears and slings the device around her neck. “How long ago was your last pain?”

  “It was only the one sharp pain, and it’s been a while.”

  She looks up at Trace. “I think she’s good,” she says and then turns her attention toward me. “Take it easy today, and no more stretching for a bit—or at least until you can get in for a thorough exam. But I think you’re okay.”

  “I don’t have to go to the hospital, right?” I ask her.

  “No. I don’t see a reason for that, but make sure to see your OB as soon as possible just to be safe.”

  “I don’t have one,” I whisper, feeling like an idiot for not finding an OB as soon as I had a positive pregnancy test.

  “Will you see her in your office, Auntie?” Trace asks her.

  “I’m not an OB, Trace, but I’ll make a few calls and find someone who can see her quickly.”

  “Thank you,” I say, giving her a smile.

  “You’re welcome, Ana,” she says softly. “Try to relax tonight. You hear me?”

  I nod. “I’ll relax. Can I cook, though?”

  “You can sit on a stool and stir. Anything else, let Trace do.”

  “You realize my cooking skills are shit, right?” Trace asks her.

  “I know you’re far more capable than you let on. Anything that requires strain, you can handle. You know how to chop and lift. Your mom and grandma taught you a thing or two, kid. Don’t try my patience.”

  Trace smiles at her. “Thanks for coming, Auntie. It means the world to me, and Ana too.”

  “I’m glad you called me. Walk me out,” she says to him.

  “Sure.”

  “It was nice to meet you, Ana.”

  “You too, Mia,” I say to her, collapsing back into the couch, wishing I could wiggle my nose like that witch on television to finish the soup.

  Trace walks behind his aunt and moves toward the door. I pretend not to be listening or paying them any attention, but I’m totally trying to eavesdrop.

  “Anyone else know about your baby?”

  “My parents,” he tells her, not correcting her when she assumes the baby is his.

  “So, it’s a secret?”

  Trace nods. “For now.”

  “It’s best to wait. Many couples like to wait a few months before telling family, in case…”

  “We’ll tell them when the time is right.”

  “Congrats, kid. Your parents must be excited to welcome another grandbaby into the family.”

  My stomach twists with a pang of sadness and jealousy. No one in my family would be excited. Not my father. Not my brother. And probably not my aunts, no matter how much they love me. I have no one who really gives two fucks. But Trace, he has a small army of people who want only the best for him.

  “Something like that,” he says to her before pulling her into an embrace. “Thanks again, Auntie Mia.”

  “Anytime, baby. See you tomorrow?”

  “I’ll be there.” He kisses her cheek before she walks out.

  As soon as the door closes, I say, “You should’ve told her the truth.”

  “I didn’t tell her a lie.”

  “You did, Trace. She called the baby yours.”

  “Right now, you’re mine and so is the little human growing inside you. Now, I’ll finish the soup while you call out the directions from the couch.”

  I start to stand, but he rushes to my side and pushes me back into the couch. “Don’t move.”

  “But…”

  He shakes his head, giving me a hard stare. “You’re going to sit there with your feet up,” he says, lifting my feet with one hand while grabbing a pillow with the other, “and tell me what to do. What you’re not going to do is stand in the kitchen and finish cooking.”

  I stare at him for a few seconds, pondering telling him to fuck off, but he’s been too sweet for me to argue with him. “Fine,” I snap, not happy with how this day is turning out.

  “Good girl,” he says quickly and softly, making my belly flip again.

  He stalks toward the kitchen, giving me a spectacular view of his ass, which is impressive. The man is perfect in every way. Hot body. Handsome face. Thick hair. Sweet. Caring.

  Damn it.

  Why does he have to be so flawless when we’re going to end? We couldn’t possibly last. Nothing this amazing ever does. And the fact that we had an expiration date to begin with makes it a certainty neither one of us can escape.

  Instead of fighting it, maybe it would be better to let myself daydream about the fairy tale that can never be.

  “What should I do first?” he asks, standing in front of the cutting board on the other side of the island.

  Kiss me. I push that thought away because that’s how I got into this mess to begin with. “Cut the potatoes.”

  “Diced or slices?”

  “Either.”

  He stares at me, holding the knife. “You know you have a preference.”

  “Diced, please.”