“I’m…I’m pregnant.”
At first, I’m not sure I heard right.
She continues talking before I can reply. “I found out in Barbados, and I wanted to tell you, but when I called… Well, you know what happened when I called.”
I close my eyes. I knew something was wrong, and now I hate that I didn’t bother to coax it out of her. Instead, I got mad at her. I should have been soothing whatever anxiety she was feeling, and instead I accused her of overreacting.
And yet she still loves me.
I don’t deserve you, Rachel.
“When Evans…” She sighs. “I couldn’t stop thinking about how I didn’t tell you, how I’d never get a chance to.”
“Stop.” I won’t let her punish herself for this one. “I understand how you felt…I do.” There’s an ache in my chest as I continue. “You know now that everything I do—work, solving the problems that have come up in the last few weeks—is so I can get them out of the way and come home to you. Meeting with Ava, trying to find Evans—it was always about making sure he could never hurt you, because I’d rather die than let anyone hurt you.”
She nods. “I know.”
“I hate that you felt unsure of me, and I take the blame for that. You’ll never have cause to doubt me again.” I hold her gaze, imploring her with my eyes. “I promise. Everything I am, everything you want, I’ll give you, and if you let me, I’ll give everything I have, for you, for us, and for our child.”
She smiles through tears. “I only want you.”
“All of me,” I tell her. “You already have all of me.”
Epilogue
“Ohhh, that feels good!” Rachel moans, her eyes closed. Her hair is in a knot on top of her head, and soft tendrils frame her face. She looks unbelievably lovely, and she is, both inside and out.
I increase the pressure of my fingers and press down on the bottoms of her feet.
She sighs. “Don’t ever stop.”
“Okay.” I’m laughing. “I’ll massage your feet forever.”
Her eyes narrow in suspicion. “Are you making fun of me?”
“Never!”
She rubs at her stomach, which, at eight months and three weeks, is bigger than I ever thought possible. I’d never say that though.
“Just so you know, I can still kick your ass.”
“I know,” I admit.
“Really?”
“Hmm.”
She looks petulant. “Now you’re just humoring me.”
“Have I told you how lovely you look today?” I’m not lying. She looks lovely, lush and ripe, with curves everywhere.
She groans. “Stop flattering me.” She pulls her foot from my grip and rises to her feet, then stops and makes a sound of exhaustion.
I’m instantly by her side. “Are you all right?”
“Yes. I stood up too fast. I’m fine. I’m pregnant, not an invalid.”
“Okay.” I smile. “Can I get you something to eat?”