“What?” When I start to shake, Finn’s hand trails down my back to rest above my waist. “How? I would remember agreeing to that. I would. I wouldn’t have done that. Why would I do that?”
Charles sighs. “It was after the last miscarriage.” He searches my face for a moment. “You were in a pretty dark place.”
My mind struggles to compute what he’s saying. Yes, I didn’t cope very well when I found out Eric was a serial cheater paying for abortions when I’d miscarried for the seventh time. A baby with Eric wasn’t the solution to our problems. I knew it then, and I sure as hell know it now.
“I bounced back, Dad. I always bounced the fuck back.” Then like a torrential downpour appearing out of nowhere, the truth drops. “You did this?” Disbelief rushes through me. “You had a hand in this?”
The baby wiggles, and I adjust my hold. But I can’t acknowledge him. Each time I register that I have a baby in my arms and he might be mine, I no longer care quite enough how it happened, why it’s happened, or whether the baby is even mine.
A baby.
“For years,” Charles says, “you wanted a child. You went through so much to get pregnant, and then to never carry a baby to term? Destroying the eggs seemed foolish. They might have been your last chance to be a mother. I did what I needed to do to make sure you weren’t throwing away an opportunity.” He gestures to the baby in my arms. “Now you get to be a mom.”
If it wasn’t for Finn’s hand on my back, I’d be unhinged. When I peer up at him, his face is impossible to read. It’s granite. But inside, my heart is breaking. If this baby is mine, biologically mine, everything I’ve been planning with Finn can’t happen. Or at least, it can’t happen the way we envisioned. Does he realize that?
“We’ll need a DNA test.” Finn breaks his silence.
Eric smirks and shakes his head. “We can get as many DNA tests as you want. They’ll tell you the same thing. That baby—Lucas—has two biological parents. Me and Carys.” He beams at me. “We’re gonna be a family. This time, I’m doing right by you.”
The picture the coroner showed me of Valeriya not long ago pops into my head. He’s making things right with me by doing wrong to a host of other people.
“Where is the woman who gave birth to this child?” Finn’s voice is tight with suppressed anger.
I breathe a sigh of relief. He’s asking the questions I should be asking. My brain is muddled, and half of it is already consumed with monitoring the minuscule movements of the baby in my arms.
“Upstairs.” Eric gestures to the ceiling. “You’re welcome to talk to her. She’s agreed to stay on as our wet nurse. You were so keen to make sure our child was breastfed.”
“Eric.” My whole body goes cold. “That was five years ago. A lot has happened since then.”
“So you’d prefer he was bottle fed?”
A scream works its way up into my throat. I’m on the cusp of saying I’d rather he hadn’t used my eggs to create a baby I no longer want, but saying the words are crass, not true. Assuming Lucas is mine, I’d never want him to hear that repeated later in anger by Eric. Kids can be weapons between parents. Any relationship with him will be a battlefield.
“You’re being deliberately obtuse,” I push out through clenched teeth. “Neither one of you even talked to me. You didn’t ask me.”
“Are you saying you don’t want the baby?” Eric frowns.
“No—I—it’s just—” I shake my head. Nothing sounds right. “I don’t understand how you did this without me.” My voice cracks, and Finn’s arm tightens and shifts to my waist. He’s the only thing holding me up.
Eric and my father exchange a look loaded with meaning. Was Valeriya part of this? The timeline Ekaterina mentioned sort of matches. Maybe her involvement with Eric, her involvement with this baby made her bold.
“Who helped you?” I ask.
“It’s Russia.” My father waves a hand. “The only help you need is money and a few connections. Lots of money. Once you’ve got that, you can make anything happen.”
“First thing in the morning,” Finn says, “we’re getting a DNA test.”
“Have at it.” Eric chuckles.
Finn’s fingers clench the material at my waist. I peek up at him, but his murderous gaze is focused on Eric.
The baby snuffles and wiggles in my arms. When I look down, his little face is contorting like he’s about to cry. Eric checks the clock on the wall.
“Probably feeding time. I’ll take him upstairs for Galina to feed him.”
“That’s her name?” I whisper as I pass him to Eric. As the baby leaves me, a heaviness settles in my chest. Part of me wants to snatch him right back, keep him tucked close. What if he’s mine?
“It is.” Eric grins. “Her English is impeccable. You’ll be great friends, I think.”
The tension radiating off Finn is unmistakable. It amazes me that Eric can ignore it, as though Finn isn’t on the verge of releasing his gun and shooting him. If I turned to him and asked, I know he’d do it. Eric had better be telling the truth about the baby. Otherwise Finn will give him the shovel and watch as he digs his own grave.
But then, if he is telling the truth, what does that mean for us? I sink into the couch across from my father as the full weight of the realization settles. Does he want to be a father? My brain tries to extract the fragments of conversation from before, from now. He’s never said how he would feel. A child was an impossibility. Even the miscarriage we sort of glossed over.
Would he be okay with parenting another man’s child? How will Eric and I arrange custody? Where will the baby live?
I press my fingers into my forehead. Finn’s hand strays to the top of my head in a soothing motion. God, I love him. His silence is adding another layer of fear. Will he leave me if the baby is Eric’s? I didn’t want this, but I can’t say no to it either.
“I’m tired,” I whisper to no one in particular.
Jay straightens as if coming awake. “We’ve got the hotel booked in the city.” He comes around the couch from his position by the door.
“No need.” Charles waves a dismissive hand. “This house is big enough. Seven bedrooms. Four upstairs. Baby Lucas. Galina. Eric. All have rooms up there. So you can take the fourth, Carys. Finn, Jay, and I can sleep downstairs.”
Finn tenses, and I jump in before he can say anything or even think it. “Finn will stay with me.”
“Surely not now, given the situation with Eric,” my father chides with a shake of his head.
“For fucks sakes,” Finn bursts out. “She’s a grown woman. Stop treating her like an errant child. She deserves so much better than this ambush.”
My father sizes him up for a moment before muttering, “I’ll never understand her attraction to you.”
“You don’t fucking have to, but you need to accept that it’s her choice. Not yours. Not Eric’s. Hers. Always.”
Rising, I wrap my arms around Finn’s tense bicep. He doesn’t take his eyes off my father, but his seething rage comforts me. When he was so quiet, I couldn’t read him. But this? I understand this. I’m supposed to feel the same. Hurt. Betrayed. Blindsided. Instead, I’m numb, clinging onto him like a lifeline.
“Take me upstairs.” The words are a plea.
“Jay,” Finn says.
“I’ll get your bags.” He heads for the front door. “And I’ll bring them up in the minute.”
As I’m led past my father, he says, “I thought you’d be happier.”
“I can’t talk to you right now, Dad. I need to wrap my head around... everything.”
“Well,” my father says, glancing at Finn. “Hopefully in the morning, you’ll realize what a blessing this is. How fortunate you are to have this opportunity.”
Bile rises in my throat. Finn wraps his arm around me tighter and guides me toward the stairs.
Chapter Thirty-One
Finn
The room Charles assigned to us belongs in a museum. Historical eras aren�
��t my thing, but it’s clear this place hasn’t had any facelift since the house was built, which was probably a hundred years ago. From the doorway, everything seems clean enough, and nothing smells like mothballs or mildew. I sigh. These thoughts are just a distraction from the fucking fertility circus downstairs. A poor effort to calm the hell down, and it’s not working.
As I close the bedroom door, I realize I should say something to Carys, but I don’t have any idea where to start. My blood boils, rage coursing through me at Eric and her father creating this child without her consent. When she was at her lowest, they tricked her into signing away her rights to her future children. Their motives are inconceivable to me—and I’ve done a lot of shitty things in the name of profit or revenge. But this? Their plan is so misguided. How could either of them think a baby was the right solution?
My brain spent the whole conversation ticking through the complications. The situation is a fucking nightmare. Eric may be the only legal parent. There’s no way I’m saying that to Carys because we don’t know if the baby is biologically hers. Eric or her father could try to bluff through this or outright lie. Wherever we get the DNA tested in the morning, I’m following the kit like a bloodhound. They won’t trick her again.
If they’re lying? God won’t be able to help them. Whether she wants them dead or alive, I’ll be making them dig their own graves before I put a bullet between their eyes. To dangle motherhood in front of her and then snatch it away is unforgivable. Un-fucking-forgivable.
“You’re very quiet.” Carys’s voice is hardly audible in the room.
There’s a knock on the door, and I gather my thoughts while I go to open it. At the entrance, Jay passes me our bags. Worry is splashed across his face, and I shake my head. I don’t have the slightest clue what to tell him. With a sigh, I close the door and set our luggage on the floor.
“Can you please talk to me?” she says.
Over my shoulder, I see her hand shake as she raises it to her hair. Fuck. What am I supposed to say? What do I do? I’m not this guy. Kill them? I can do that. No problem. Talk about feelings? So much harder.
“Why don’t you tell me what you’re thinking?” My voice is gruffer than I mean it to be.
“What if it isn’t the same thing you’re thinking?”
“That matters?” I shove my hands into my pockets. Maybe if I’d gone to therapy as a kid like Lorcan’s mother wanted, I’d be better at this. Instead I’m fumbling around in the dark. And not the fun kind of fumbling.
She takes a shaky breath. “I was happy. I had you. If I have this baby, I’m afraid I won’t have you. It just—” her voice cracks, “seems so unfair. I might finally have the two things I want, but I have to choose which one I want more.”
There’s no choice. I heard what she said to Opal the other day. She’d never abandon her child for a man, not like her mother did. Could I ask that of her? No, I couldn’t. Even though not asking would kill me.
“As long as you want me, I’m here.” I stand in front of her, out of reach.
She closes the gap and wraps her arms around my waist. “I want to be with you forever. That was my plan. Would you—could you raise that baby as your own?”
I clear my throat. “You’re suggesting I could be a father to your child?”
She nods against my chest.
With a sigh, I draw her tight against me. “I’ll be a shit dad, Carys. But if you want me, I’ll do my damnedest.”
“Really?”
I don’t want to go in circles, and the complete truth about where my head is at isn’t helpful. Did I want to be a dad? Not really. Will I walk away from her because she has a kid? Not a fucking chance.
Right now, I need to understand where her mind is at so I can figure out what I can do, what I should do to make that happen. “Logistics aside, what would you want from this situation if you could have it?”
Silence hangs in the room for a moment. “I’d have you. I’d get custody of this baby from Eric. We’d move to Cape Verde and set up a low-risk venture and raise him together. When I think of myself five years from now, that’s what I want. You. Me. Lucas. On an island. So unbelievably happy.”
My heart squeezes in my chest. Her idea is so vivid I can almost close my eyes and put myself there, insert myself in her version of our life.
But in what world can that future happen? Eric was confident in her hotel room this maneuver would draw her back to him. She won’t leave her child. He won’t give up the child, his leverage, without a fight.
“That sounds perfect,” I murmur into the top of her head. It does. Will the image of what might have been have to sustain me while I watch her live her life from afar? What might have been... What could have been... If only...
Because if they force her to make a choice. Well, for her, there’s no choice at all.
~ * ~
Galina looks like a woman who gave birth two days ago. Darkness sits under her eyes from a lack of sleep, and her brown hair lies limp around her shoulders. Her middle is still expanded, as though there might be another baby in there.
Christ. I hope there’s not another fucking baby in there.
“Breastfeeding is hard work,” she says to Carys once we’ve introduced ourselves.
“I’m sure,” Carys murmurs and focuses on her purse.
Last night, while lying in bed, I selected a DNA testing facility which guaranteed same-day results. We’re waiting for the cars to be ready to get us there. Eric and Charles aren’t getting near the scientific process. The facility agreed I can guard the DNA throughout the day. Only cost a few grand. Seems cheap for our peace of mind.
Carys threw up in the bathroom this morning. The sight of her makes my chest ache. The natural confidence radiating out of her is weighed down by today’s outcome. Either result has grave consequences.
She told me she doesn’t want to hold the baby again until she knows for sure he’s hers.
As though reading my mind, Galina says, “Carys, I’m sorry. You must want to hold him.”
Carys looks up, startled, and before she can say anything, I step in. “I’ll take him,” I say.
Galina frowns. “Eric said you weren’t to hold Lucas.”
Without meeting Galina’s gaze, Carys says, “He’s my baby, too. I say he can.”
Aw. Shit. I don’t want to hold him. The number of babies I’ve held in my life could be counted on two fingers. Galina shifts her grip and passes him to me. I hold out my hands and catch Carys watching me out of the corner of her eye. The smallest smile floats across her face. She’s got to be laughing on the inside at how fucking awkward I am right now.
He’s so tiny sitting in the crook of my arm, a swell of protectiveness runs through me. To think part of Carys might have become this tiny little man makes my heart pound. The baby yawns, and I glance at her. She’s watching me and him with so much longing I regret saying I’d hold him. I was trying to make this morning easier, and now I’m worried I’ve made her day so much harder.
“I wish—” she says.
“I know.” The pain in those two words is enough.
She nods and turns away.
Footsteps echo through the rear of the house, and I juggle the baby trying to give him to Galina before Eric can show up. Carys doesn’t need a fight on top of everything else. My temper is lit, ready to explode. If he says the wrong thing to her, I’m likely to snap his neck. I still might get the pleasure if Eric has lied about this baby’s parentage.
“All set?” Charles comes through the living room and into the entryway.
“You don’t need to come,” Carys says, half-turning toward him.
“Nonsense. Eric and I are coming to celebrate. My first and probably only grandchild.”
She rubs her forehead, and I ease my hand across her shoulders. She shifts closer to me and seeks shelter in my arms. I keep focused on Charles as I kiss her temple. He frowns and turns away.
Jay pokes his head in the front door. “We’re all
set. Car seat installed. Everybody in. We gotta be there in an hour.”
We’re almost at the car when heavy footsteps sound behind us. I was hoping we’d be gone before Eric tagged along.
“Ah,” Charles says with a grin. “Here you are. I was afraid we’d have to leave without you.”
“Wouldn’t miss it for the world.” Eric smiles and tries to catch Carys’s gaze.
She turns her face more into my chest. His gaze connects with mine instead, and his eyes narrow. “You’re going to have that satisfied smirk wiped off today.”
Carys stiffens in my arms.
I chuckle. “You know who else has a satisfied smirk these days?” When he doesn’t answer, I continue, “Carys. Whatever happens today, that will always be true. I’ve satisfied her in ways you never could.”
With that, Jay opens our car door with a flourish and Carys enters first. When I glance over my shoulder, Eric and Charles are deep in conversation. Eric’s cheeks are red with anger, and Charles is trying to calm him down.
“Should you have done that?” Carys asks when I settle beside her.
I shrug. “Was I wrong?”
“No.”
“Then he needs to realize he isn’t winning you back. He’s cheating. He’s trapping you into something you don’t want anymore. He’s no hero. I’m not letting him walk around pretending he’s some kinda savior.”
She undoes her seatbelt and slips across the backseat bench. Her hand slides along my leg and she rests her ear against my chest. “I love this sound.” Her other hand is against my heart. “I want to hear it forever.”
I secure her close to me and kiss the top of her head. The selfishness I can’t seem to shake rears its head. At the back of my mind is the mantra: Please don’t let Lucas be her child.
Chapter Thirty-Two
Carys
Finn was somewhere in the building with the DNA samples. After a couple of hours, Eric gets up the nerve to speak to me. One plus of Finn insulting him—his confidence took a hit.
“We should discuss everything before he gets back.” Eric sips the coffee he bought from the café across the street.
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