by Katie Knight
“Yes, I’m sure.” Esme squared her shoulders and took Z’s hand so he could help her out of the car. It was surprisingly warm for late October. Then again, that could just be her wacky hormones giving her hot flashes. “Let’s do this.”
Esme smiled at the goth who bowed then creaked open the massive doors to the dilapidated townhouse. Z scanned both directions and said something into his Bluetooth headset to his security team, then led her inside. At first, it looked like a typical horror-film set, blue lights beaming down on a damp and murky hallway. The walls were a mess of crumbling plaster and jagged wood with the occasional metal bar piercing through. They made their way down the corridor, Z tense beside her, dodging puddles as they went. Esme wondered where the water had come from, but then they emerged into the room at the end and she wondered no more.
They’d certainly made the gore realistic, she’d give them that. The room was set up like a mock autopsy suite, complete with a sliced open cadaver on the table. Not one to be overly squeamish about blood and guts, Esme was surprised to find her stomach churning at the sight. Internal organs and various parts were strewn about like limp pasta noodles and the smell. God, whatever they’d used to recreate that chemical-mixed-with-rotted-meat stench was…
Yep. She barely had time to race to the corner before she lost the meager contents of her stomach. Esme was mortified. Z was perfectly composed and capable as always, rubbing her back and holding her hair out of her face for her. He didn’t even bat an eye when she was finished, all flushed and flustered, just handed her a handkerchief from his pocket to clean herself up and a breath mint.
“I’m sorry,” she managed to say, her voice trembling. “We shouldn’t have come here. You were right.”
“I usually am,” he said, but his tone was nothing but kind. “C’mon, princess. Let’s get you back outside and into some fresh air. It’s definitely rank in here.”
“Please don’t talk about it,” she said, leaning heavily on him for support as they made their way back down the blue hallway. Out of nowhere, a guy in a hazmat suit pounced on them and Z nearly ripped the guy’s head off before she stopped him. Talk about a jump scare.
By the time they made it back to the limo, she felt cold and tired and unaccountably close to tears. This whole thing was getting out of hand. She needed to step it up and find out if they were having a baby or not.
Z helped her back into the limo then radioed his team again, telling them they were on their way back home.
“Um, can we make a stop on the way?” Esme asked as he slid onto the black leather seat beside her. “At the drug store?”
He gave her a weird look at first, but then she patted her stomach and realization dawned in his blue eyes. “Right. Sure, princess.”
Chapter Fifteen
Z waited outside the bathroom door in the townhouse while Es took care of business. It was early, he knew that, but given the way she’d reacted so violently to those putrid butcher’s leftovers in the haunted house earlier, maybe she really was pregnant.
The sound of a toilet flushing was followed by running water as Es washed her hands then opened the door. In her hand was the test.
“It’s probably not going to show anything,” she said, her fingers still trembling a bit. “It hasn’t even been a full week yet since my period was supposed to start.”
“Shouldn’t matter,” he said. “I talked to the pharmacist in the store. He said that even this soon, if you’re pregnant, there’s a 90 percent chance this test will show it. That’s why I got this one.” He shrugged. “And if it’s negative tonight and you still don’t start your period by the end of the week, then we’ll do a second one. That why I got two.”
Es sighed and leaned against the doorjamb. “I just don’t want to be disappointed.”
“I know, princess.” He leaned against the wall beside her, their shoulders touching as they waited the longest three minutes of his life. “It’ll be okay.”
“But what if it isn’t?” Es chattered on, unable to stop talking. It was one of the things she did when she was stressed, he’d noticed. Rambling on about all the questions swirling in her head. “I should have started preparing earlier. I should have taken those books more seriously. I should have—”
The ding of the timer in the bathroom echoed around them like a clarion call.
“Oh, God,” Es said, eyes closed and face pale. “I can’t look.”
“Yes, you can, princess.” He held her wrist gently, his thumb rubbing over her soft skin until she opened her eyes and met his gaze. “Whatever that thing shows, we’ll handle it together. We’re partners in this, remember?”
Es gave a slight nod then turned slowly back into the bathroom where the box with the results chart sat on the counter. Z followed her inside, peering over her shoulder at the box, then the test in her hand, doing a double take. One bright fuchsia line showed in the tiny window on the stick. He exhaled slowly. According to the box, that was a negative. Okay. Fine. They’d keep trying. A tiny pang of disappointment stabbed his heart. He hadn’t realized until this moment how much he’d wanted the test to be positive.
Then she gasped and Z looked again. A second line, faint at first, but growing darker by the second appeared to the right of the first. According to the box…
“We’re…” Es said, meeting his gaze in the mirror, a sheen of tears sparkling in hers. “Oh, my God, Z! We’re pregnant!”
Stunned, he looked from the test in her hand to her eyes then back again. They were having a baby. His baby. Their baby. The conversation he’d had with his buddy a few weeks ago came back to his mind.
Friends are great, but family always comes first.
As of tonight, he and Es were starting a family together. And yes, at the end of all this he’d be leaving them behind to return to his SEAL team because that’s what he wanted, but the ties of blood would always be there, no matter what. His baby.
Es sniffled and set the test aside. “I don’t know what to do.”
Carefully, as if she was made of the most fragile glass, he pulled her stiff form into his arms, still a bit in shock himself. “I meant what I said, princess. We’re partners in this. Our kid. We’ll face all of this together.”
Slowly, he led her out of the bathroom and down the hall toward the comfy living room. There, he settled her on the sofa, then sat beside her, unsure of himself for once. He wanted to pull her onto his lap and hold her close. He wanted to sweep her off to bed and make love to her all night. He wanted to shout from the rooftops that he’d made a baby.
Instead, he slid his arm around her shoulders. She rested her cheek against his chest and he pressed his chin to the top of her head. All was peaceful until his cell phone started buzzing in his pocket. He’d taken his Bluetooth headset off as soon as they’d gotten back to the townhouse.
“Z,” he said, answering.
His second-in-command on the security team rattled off the last words Z expected to hear that night. “There’s been a fire, sir. At the haunted house. Two of the actors inside were injured, but they’re expected to make a full recovery. Thought you’d want to know.”
“Any word on the cause yet?” Z asked, his mind immediately running through the most recent death threats against the royal family. Had one of those nut jobs finally made a move?
“None yet, sir. The fire marshal is here now, inspecting the damage. I’ll keep you posted.”
“Thanks.”
“What’s wrong?” Es asked once Z had ended the call.
“Nothing, princess.” He stroked her hair until she closed her eyes again and her breath evened out. “Nothing at all.”
Long afterward, as he sat in the quiet room while Es slept tucked against his side, he couldn’t seem to let her go. They’d just been at that place a few hours earlier. And yeah, it was a hellhole, but it was meant to be. Despite the rundown appearances, they’d had regular inspections and had checked out as safe. He’d been sure of that before he’d ever let his princes
s in there. His protective instincts went into overdrive, not that they hadn’t been there before where she was concerned.
Except he’d always been able to tell himself it was because of the job.
Now, though, it was because of their unborn child.
Chapter Sixteen
“Okay, princess?” Z asked, glancing over at Es in the back of the limo. They were on their way to the first official doctor’s appointment post-positive pregnancy test. Hard to believe it had been almost ten days already since the night of the fire at that haunted house.
“Yes,” Es said, staring out the window beside her at the overcast, blustery day in DC. “It’s nice to get outside for a change.”
Z had to admit he felt the same. For security reasons, they’d both kept a low profile since Halloween. It gave a guy a lot of time to think. Lots of time to worry, too. Which was stupid when he really thought about it. He was in this to get back to his SEAL team, no more, no less. Now, if someone would just let his heart in on that secret, he’d be all set.
He wasn’t cut out to be father material, not in the real sense, anyway. His job was too time-consuming, too dangerous. And if anyone knew firsthand the pain and trauma a child suffered when his father didn’t come home from work, it was Z. If he closed his eyes, he could still feel that hollow grief, the gaping wound in his soul that had never healed from the day he’d been told his parents were dead. No child should ever have to go through that.
Nope. The fact he’d be out of both their lives after one year was the best for everyone.
So why didn’t he feel better about that? Getting back to work—real work—with his team was what he wanted, right?
Es sighed and rubbed her stomach, a slight frown on her pretty face.
Z reached into his pocket for the ever-ready packet of saltine crackers he kept handy. “Need something to munch on?”
She took one, giving him a wan smile. At six weeks, the morning sickness had struck hard, except it wasn’t just in the morning. With Es, it seemed to be twenty-four/seven nausea with a healthy side of upchuck. Z did his best to stay alert and attentive to the signs, bringing juice or crackers or water or whatever she needed whenever she needed it. As a result, neither of them had gotten a solid eight hours sleep in a while. Honestly, Z had felt less on edge in active shooter situations. At least then, he knew what he was dealing with—a set of studied psychoses. You could be proactive instead of reactive.
As the mom-to-be nibbled away on her saltine, Z found himself filling the silence in the back of the car, something he’d been doing a lot more of lately. For a guy who normally didn’t say much, he was becoming a regular chatterbox.
“Hopefully, you’ll feel better after we see the doctor today,” he said, staring out the window at the snarled traffic ahead. “When I was a kid, I used to hate going to the doctor. Didn’t help we were always traveling to a different part of the world. Hard to find English-speaking docs sometimes, so you took what you got.”
“That must have been fun for you, though,” Es said, her voice quiet and her eyes closed as she leaned her head back against the plush leather seat. “Seeing all those different cultures.”
“Hmm. Sure, yeah. It was fun, unless you were sick.” He snorted and shook his head. “I was a pretty healthy kid most of the time, but man. I remember about a month after we arrived in Istanbul, I had strep throat. I was four, maybe, and scared to death of the man my mother took me too. He wore this red fez and a white robe and—”
The limo braked hard as a taxi cut off their vehicle. Good thing the privacy screen was up since Z assumed the driver had a few choice words about that.
Z looked over at Es again and saw she was snoozing away. Good. She needed her rest.
He adjusted himself in the seat, careful not to squish his baggie full of saltine crackers. Beside those, he was carrying packs of tissues, some chocolates, pretzels, and—he scowled and reached into his pocket to adjust whatever it was poking him. Oh yeah. Jewelry. Earrings, to be precise. Seemed with her pregnancy brain, as Es called the forgetfulness caused by her raging hormones, she couldn’t remember to put on the crown jewels.
In slumber, her face was relaxed, the small lines between her dark brows smooth. She’d lost weight, too, judging from the prominence of her cheekbones and the bagginess of her clothes.
“Stop staring,” she mumbled, peeking on eye open. “Don’t think I can’t feel you watching me. It’s creepy.”
“It’s my job,” he countered, looking away, feeling like a kid with his hand caught in the cookie jar. Yeah, he’d been watching her. It was his job. That’s the excuse he was going with anyway.
A few minutes later, they pulled up in a side alley adjacent to the OB/GYN’s office and Z got out first to survey the area and make sure his security team was in place before ushering Es quickly into the rear entrance of the building.
Bad enough they had the hidden pregnancy to contend with. Then the king’s condition had been leaked to the press. Z was still investigating to find out who was responsible, but things had turned into a circus since the news broke. Es, who was already shaken by the constant morning sickness, was more stressed than ever, which wasn’t good for the baby at all.
This triggered Z’s already strong protective urges where she was concerned as well as his need to take control. If anyone was coming after Es, they’d have to get through him first.
Once inside the waiting room, Z did a perimeter check of the otherwise empty space. They’d booked out the doctor’s entire afternoon schedule for Es’s appointment, just in case. Good thing, too, with the media zoo taking place outside.
In one corner of the room was a small play area for kids. On top of a white, plastic table sat a racetrack with several cars. He remembered wanting that same set up badly when he’d been younger. They’d been in Croatia then and the supply of American toys had been thin. Z remembered his dad searching high and low for the track set and finally coming home late one night with the box under his arm. Z had thought his dad was a superhero right about then.
“What are you smiling about?” Es asked, her too-perceptive gaze locked on him.
“See that car racing set on the table there? I had the same one as a kid.” He chuckled. “My dad worked a miracle to get it for me. Still don’t know how he managed it.”
“You must have been a lucky little boy,” she said, smiling.
His happiness deflated. “Sure, if becoming an orphan six months later is lucky.”
Es reached over and laid her hand over his. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t—”
“Your highness,” the nurse said, dropping into an awkward curtsy before Es. “The doctor’s ready for you now.”
“I can wait out here,” Z said, standing to help Es up.
“Don’t be silly. I want you back there with me,” she said, tugging him forward with her hand on his arm. “You know how my memory is these days. I need your brain to take notes for me.”
Z did his best to stay on the periphery of the examination, not wanting to intrude or invade her privacy any more than he already had. They did all the usual stuff from what he could see—height, weight, blood pressure, medical history, then the physical. All normal. Once Es was dressed again and sitting on the end of the exam table, the doctor went over what she should expect.
“I’ll write you a prescription for something to help with the nausea, too,” the female physician said. “We’ll also need to get some bloodwork before you leave to check your iron levels, glucose, etc. And check your urine.” She handed Es a plastic bag with cartoon baby toys emblazoned on the side. “There’s a script in there for prenatal vitamins as well. You’ll want to start on those right away, though be sure to take them with food. If you don’t, they can make the nausea worse. Since you’ve booked out the entire afternoon, we’ll go ahead and do a preliminary sonogram today as well.”
Es gave Z an excited look. “So, we can find out what we’re having?”
“No, no,” the doctor sai
d, wheeling over the portable sonogram machine. “It’s far too early for that. But with luck, we should be able to pick up the heartbeat today.”
“Cool.” Es leaned back on the table and gestured for Z to move closer. “He wants to see, too.”
The doctor smiled at Z and heat prickled up from beneath the collar of his white dress shirt. “You two make a nice couple. How long have you been together?”
“Oh, no—” he started to say, then stopped and scowled as Es pinched him hard on the arm. “Ow.”
“Thank you,” Es said, giving him a shut-up look. “We’ve been together about a year. But didn’t get serious until recently.”
“Babies will do that.” The doctor snapped on a pair of gloves then had Es raise the hem of her black sweater and lower the waistband of her jeans slightly to expose her lower abdomen. The doctor squirted a small mound of gel onto Es’s skin—cold, if the way she winced was any indication—then pressed the sensor in place with one hand while fiddling with the computer keyboard and monitor with the other. “Move up your timeline, I mean. Same thing happened to my husband and me. We’d planned on starting a family one day, just not when we did. But love and children have their own schedule, eh?”
Onscreen, all Z could see was a white circle filled with endless black. The doctor said that was the interior of Es’s uterus, but you couldn’t tell it by him.
“Now, the baby’s barely the size of a peanut swimming around in there at this point. We’ll only be able to pick up the heartbeat if he or she happens to swim close to this area of the surface where the sensor is located. Fingers crossed.” The doctor moved the sensor around from left to right, searching for nearly five minutes. Z’s hopes dwindled. No luck today apparently. He was just about to grab some tissues to help Es clean up from all that gel when the doctor gasped.