Daddy didn’t look convinced. “I heard you up early this morning.”

  “Couldn’t sleep.” That was the truth. Morning sickness had jolted her from bed and sent her charging for the bathroom. She’d barely managed to get the door shut and land in front of the toilet before her stomach had given way.

  “I thought I heard you throwing up.”

  Her heart started to pound. If he’d heard her retching, she wouldn’t be able to talk him out of it. “I, um…got home late from the salon last night. I ate cereal for dinner, and I think our milk has gone bad.”

  He raised a graying brow. “Really? I had cereal this morning and I felt just fine.”

  “Huh.” She shrugged. “Must have been something else. Maybe I caught a bug.”

  Daddy pushed his plate aside and leaned forward, elbows on the table. “Are you sure? I noticed you’ve been skipping breakfast a lot. This morning wasn’t the first I’ve heard you throwing up.”

  Panic rose, and she tried to stamp it down. “Stress isn’t good for my appetite or my stomach.”

  “What’s got you worried?”

  “Your health, Daddy. Always your health. Things are a little crazy at the salon and…and the holidays are coming up. And I’ve missed Cutter since he’s gone.”

  Her father nodded like he heard every word she said—and he didn’t believe a single one. “Listen to me, Brea Felicity. If there’s something you want to tell me—”

  “Cutter and I are thinking about getting married,” she blurted to cut him off.

  After ten days of thinking through her options, she didn’t see many others that didn’t lead to giving up her home and family. She’d eventually have to tell Daddy she was expecting, and he would undoubtedly do the math. Hopefully, his health would be more stable then so he could better weather the shock.

  That stopped his questioning instantly. “He proposed?”

  “Yes.”

  Her father frowned. “When?”

  “A few days before he left for Cali. I’ve been thinking about it since.”

  “I thought you two were just friends.”

  “Well…” Think fast… “He hasn’t met anyone else he’d like to marry, but he’s thirty. He’s ready to settle down.”

  “First I’m hearing of that.”

  “And the time I spent with the man I’d been seeing convinced me that you’re right; no one else will ever be as good to me as Cutter. So we started talking about getting hitched.”

  “Do you want to be married to Cutter?”

  Brea tried not to squirm in her seat. “We both think the time to be sensible has come. I just need to let him know that I’m saying yes.”

  If there was one thing Daddy appreciated, it was a well-measured response. This one would hopefully set him at ease.

  To her surprise, he scowled. “I never meant to give you the impression you should marry for any reason other than love.”

  “I know, but Cutter and I both think getting married seems like the logical, adult choice.”

  “Hmm,” Daddy mused. “How’s that going to work?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “In Corinthians, Paul tells us one of the reasons for marriage is to avoid fornication. Cutter loves you, but not in a…carnal way. So if he’s marrying you to avoid succumbing to temptation…”

  “We both know there will be an…adjustment.”

  “A huge one.”

  She acknowledged her father with a nod. “Neither of us expects our feelings to morph overnight. But Genesis tells us that it’s not good for man to be alone, so God made him a helpmate. In Cutter’s case, that’s me.”

  “He’s been managing his own cooking and laundry for years. Why does he need a helpmate now?”

  Brea dropped her silverware on her plate in frustration. The clatter lent her bravado. “What do you want, Daddy? We’ve decided to move forward together because we’re both lonely, we trust each other, and it makes sense. I was hoping you’d be happy for me. There’s no groom on the planet I can imagine you approving of more, yet you’re still questioning me?”

  He held up both hands. “You’re right. I love Cutter like a son, and I hope he makes you happy. But your heart is tangled up elsewhere, and I want to be sure you’re not making this decision to please me or Cutter—or anyone else—at your own expense.”

  Her problems were so much bigger than that. “We’ll find ways to be happy together.”

  “I want that for you more than anything. And I don’t mean to question you.” He leaned forward. “You know the problem fathers have?”

  She shook her head. “What?”

  A faint smile crossed his face. “They never want to admit their little girls have grown up. And despite what you may think, I’m proud of you.”

  He wouldn’t be proud of her if he knew this conversation was built on so many lies…

  “Thanks, Daddy.” Brea tried not to get choked up, but it was hopeless.

  “Hey.” He grabbed her hand and squeezed. “Don’t cry. Weddings are a happy occasion. Once that boy comes back from California and asks me for your hand, we’ll have a celebration.”

  “He will.” They hadn’t talked about it specifically, but Daddy wanting to give his blessing wouldn’t surprise Cutter.

  “So when’s the big day? We have to start planning, after all.”

  “We haven’t decided.” But they couldn’t afford to wait long.

  “Well, I’m sure we’ll get all the details worked out.”

  She nodded, but she couldn’t stop feeling as if she wouldn’t be planning her wedding so much as burying her future.

  Friday, November 14

  Brea gripped the toilet and retched again. Blasted morning sickness. She was nearly in week fifteen of her pregnancy. When the devil would it end?

  This morning, she’d turned on her music in the bathroom, hoping it would disguise the sounds of her sickness, but Daddy was likely awake. What if he could hear her? How many more well-meaning lies would she have to tell him to keep her secret?

  It was already too many.

  After rising weakly from the floor, she flushed the toilet, washed her hands, and rinsed her mouth. The nausea wasn’t done with her yet; she knew that from experience. But after so much upheaval, her body felt weak.

  She stumbled back to bed and grabbed her phone off her nightstand along the way. Five forty a.m.

  Tears stabbed at her eyes. It had been nearly two weeks since she’d seen Pierce. She so badly wanted to call him, hear his gruff voice, confess how much she missed him. Tell him she still loved him. In her fantasy, he would say he loved her, too. Then she would confess they were having a baby, and he would be so happy, apologize for everything, propose instantly, and sweep her away to their happily ever after.

  Brea shook her head at her own absurdity. Pierce had played her, and she’d loved him so much—or at least the man she’d believed him to be—that she had let him.

  Finally, she’d ripped off her rose-colored glasses and resolved to face her future with eyes wide open.

  She scrolled up from Pierce’s contact and dialed Cutter instead. She couldn’t put this off anymore.

  He answered on the third ring. “Bre-Bee? You okay?”

  “Hi, Cutter.” She could hear her own voice shaking, but she was determined to forge ahead.

  “What’s going on?”

  “I haven’t heard from you. Everything all right there? Your starlet a problem child?”

  “No. Her situation is more complicated than I thought at first glance, but…” There was such a long pause, Brea wasn’t sure he actually intended to finish his sentence. Finally, he sighed. “I’ll figure it out.”

  Something was troubling him. Since he almost never let a case get to him, whatever he was dealing with in California must be deeply problematic. “You always do. But I’m worried about you. You sound so tired.”

  “Pacific time is two hours behind Central.”

  “Oh, my gosh.” It wasn’t even four in the morning there. “I’m so sorry. I always mess up time zones…”

  “What’s going on?”

  In other words, why was she calling so early.

  Though Cutter had offered to marry her, he probably wasn’t braced to hear her accept in the middle of the night. On the other hand, she’d already awakened him, so why hang up now? “Daddy is suspicious. I’m scared.”

  “Tell me everything.”

  She paraphrased her conversation with her father over supper the previous night.

  Cutter didn’t sound at all surprised. “So you’re still having morning sickness?”

  “Like crazy. Sometimes it lasts until evening, then suddenly I’m ravenous and eat everything in sight. It’s like my body isn’t my own anymore.” Same with her emotions. She’d read online that her hormones were irregular during pregnancy and might make her behavior unpredictable. That was certainly a nice way to put it.

  “It’s not.”

  He was right. And during her next appointment with the obstetrician in mid-December, the doctor had promised they would do an ultrasound to check the baby’s progress—and reveal the gender if she wanted to know.

  What would her life be like by then? Even though she’d called Cutter to start their future together, Brea still couldn’t picture it.

  Or maybe she was afraid to.

  “Eventually your father is going to realize what’s going on. He’s going to see that your body is changing.”

  Cutter was right. Her bras were getting uncomfortably tight. So were her pants. Layers of billowy winter clothes would help disguise her pregnancy for the next couple of months, but come spring? Nothing would hide the fact she was carrying a child.

  “I know. No matter what I do, I’m going to hurt someone. I’ve worried that I either have to risk my father with a heart condition or make a choice that goes against my moral code. And then there’s you… I can’t bear the thought of ruining your life.”

  “You have enough to worry about right now without worrying about me.”

  “But—”

  “Brea, you’re not going to have an abortion.”

  “No.” Even if her religious upbringing didn’t forbid it, her heart did. She wanted this baby.

  “You’re not going to tell your father that you hooked up with a guy you have no intention of marrying and got pregnant.”

  It was the truth, and that’s what she should tell him, except… “What if the news kills Daddy?”

  Maybe if she sat him down, braced him before she explained, made sure she had a phone and his medication nearby… Wasn’t it worth a try? She loved him so much and hated being dishonest.

  “Are you going to tell him you’re planning to raise your baby on your own?” Cutter added.

  And that was where she stumbled. Even if her father accepted the truth—that she’d bear the fruit of her love for Pierce come May—the town wouldn’t.

  To outsiders and city folk, Sunset probably seemed backward and small-minded. But Daddy loved it here. They both had deep roots. This was the only home she’d ever known. She’d already accepted that she’d lost Pierce. But she didn’t know how she’d cope with losing everyone else she’d known all her life, too.

  Brea hated adding more lies, but this plan would only work if she got ahead of the narrative, announced her engagement to Cutter, and convinced the townsfolk they were just another happy couple pledging their lives to each other. Of course, once she started showing and the baby came, everyone would deduce that she’d been expecting when they’d married. But they would assume Cutter had fathered the baby, and he’d never say otherwise. It would be a minor scandal, but they would weather it. Daddy could keep the town’s respect, and she could keep her clients. Gossip would die as soon as the next drama hit town.

  “And what if he disowns you?” Cutter went on.

  Daddy wouldn’t. She might have worried, but he wasn’t a cruel man. Yes, he would be shocked and disappointed she’d gotten pregnant by a man he’d never met…but now that she thought about it, maybe he’d already guessed. And he still seemed to love her. God willing, he would love her child, too. They would get through this as a family.

  “You know if he does, the folks in Sunset will do the same,” Cutter went on. “We’ve covered all this. You either have to leave Sunset alone to raise the baby in secret or—”

  “I’ll marry you. I-if you’ll still have me.”

  It was time to stop hiding her head in the sand and face the inevitable.

  Brea had expected Cutter to be relieved that she’d finally seen reason. Or impatient that it had taken her so long to reach the logical conclusion. Instead, he paused.

  His silence was rife with resignation.

  “Of course, Bre-Bee. I’d be honored.”

  But he wouldn’t, not at all. Clearly, he wished she’d made any other choice. But she didn’t have a better one. If Daddy had noticed her off moods and behavior, there was a chance some of the ladies at the salon had as well. She had to act now for this plan to have any chance of working.

  “Thank you. A-and like I said, I’ll never infringe on your personal life. I want you to be as happy as you can in the midst of this mess. If you want children of your own, we’ll figure something out. Artificial insemination or—”

  “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves. That’s years away, and we’ll address that if I get the urge. You just worry about you and the baby right now. Unless plans change, I’ll be back early next week, and we’ll go to the Justice of the Peace.”

  “We can’t do that. Daddy will want to marry us.”

  He would insist, just like he would want the ceremony in his church—a big shindig the whole town would attend.

  Cutter cursed softly under his breath. “How soon can you plan a wedding that doesn’t look slapped together?”

  “In Sunset? January sixth.”

  “That’s too long. Your pregnancy will likely be showing by then.”

  “Maybe not, with the right dress. But everything is booked up with the holidays. Out of curiosity, I called Norma Kay and asked if she could cater food for an event in December. She said she promised her family she’d do pre-Christmas parties, then take a vacation until the first of the year. Who else in Sunset can do the event except Violet? She just had a hip replacement yesterday in Baton Rouge.”

  “Brea, you’ll have to bend a little or run the risk of everyone finding out.”

  “If I bend a little, as you call it, people will guess that something’s off right away.”

  “What if we took a cruise out of New Orleans and got married in the Caribbean, told your father and the rest of the town we eloped because we didn’t want to wait? You’ve always said you wanted to sail to paradise. Everyone knows it.”

  That made her pause for a long moment. “Let me think about that. Maybe…maybe everyone would buy that. Can I let you know next week?”

  “Yeah.” There was that something heavy weighing him down again.

  “Cutter, are you all right?”

  He paused such a long time that dread twisted her. Finally, he sighed. “I, um…need to get something off my chest.”

  “Of course. What is it?”

  Yes, she worried about her baby and her situation and how to save face in Sunset. But she loved him and worried about him, too. “I’ve been babbling on about my issues and haven’t listened to yours. I’m sorry. Tell me.”

  “I need to make sure you can handle a marriage that isn’t…romantic. If we do this, we either have to give it a genuine go or—”

  “It’s not possible.” She couldn’t be intimate with a man she considered her brother. Heck, she didn’t think she could betray her heart and have sex with any man who wasn’t Pierce.

  “I don’t think I can, either.” He sighed again. “Bre-bee, I’m in love with someone.”

  Brea froze as his words registered and shock sank in. “Oh. Then of course you’re not marrying me. I’ll find another way to keep my baby and my life. Don’t worry. Please. Marry the woman who has your heart. I want you to be so happy, Cutter. I want that for you more than anything.”

  “I can’t. She’s sweet and wonderful—but she has her own huge life that doesn’t include me. I knew going in that she’d talk to me, go to bed with me, but…”

  Since Cutter had never before mentioned being in love and he’d been uncharacteristically quiet these past few days, it seemed obvious he’d fallen for the actress he was guarding. “So, it’s your starlet client? I’m sure she’s very pretty.”

  “That’s not why—”

  “You don’t have to say anything. And you don’t have to make excuses. I understand. I really do, more than you know.” Sometimes love just happened, whether a person wanted it or not. And once it took hold, there was no shaking it. “If you think there’s no long-term chance between the two of you—”

  “None.”

  The finality in that sad syllable made her heart hurt for him. Brea knew what it was like to love someone who would never love her back. “Then she doesn’t know what a great husband she’s missing out on, and it would be my distinct honor to be your wife.”

  A sad pause hung between them. “It’s settled. You think about eloping, and we’ll make a plan once I’m home next week.”

  “Okay.” She’d already messed up her life. All Brea could do now was hope she didn’t mess his up, too. “I’ll do whatever I can to make sure you don’t regret this.”

  In case any of Montilla’s assholes had eyes on him, One-Mile hadn’t had any contact with Brea since that shitty morning in her foyer thirteen fucking agonizing days ago. Being apart from her—her smile, her softness, her kiss—was driving him beyond batshit. He paced his cubicle at EM Security Management like it was a cage.

  Since the clusterfuck of Montilla’s breakout in St. Louis, the bosses had punished him with the shittiest assignments. Last week, he’d spent two days in New Orleans babysitting the son of a former president, now running for Senate. The former first son had received some vague death threats on social media shortly before attending a summit on responsibility in government. After giving a rousing speech about community and personal accountability, he’d rubbed elbows and shaken hands for two hours. Then the white-privilege poster boy had spent the rest of his Big-Easy stay balls deep in strippers while snorting perfect white lines of cocaine.