Page 122 of Born for Lace

“Anything I should know? Any discomfort?” His brows pinch in tight over those assessing hazel eyes.

“Why would there be?”

“Dahlia…” His voice drags my name through puddles of concern. “It took us a while to get you to accept this…” He places his hand on my shoulder, and I don’t flinch from his touch. For the first time, I force myself to allow his compassion. “You’re pregnant.”

I chew my lower lip and place my palm over my swollen stomach. “Oh, is that what this is?”

“Okay. Very funny.” He drops his hand from my shoulder with a knowing chuckle. “I was worried. For a second, I thought you had relapsed. See, most women have a hard time with pregnancy. Heartburn and such. The fetus is growing fast, Dahlia.”

I know. The baby inside my womb belongs to the largest man in The Cradle, the most powerful, stunning, and magnetic man in existence. I know what is inside me; I feel the weight, joy and sorrow of it each and every day. “Any news from Tomar?” I ask, my voice almost retreating.

“Nothing since you asked yesterday.” His bright smile twists, becoming contrived. Hesitation and unspoken words flow to an awkward silence, so he adds, “Should I leave? Do you need more sleep?”

I close my eyes and sigh. “Yes. I’m… exhausted. Spero was fussy last night.”

He nods. “Of course.”

As he turns to leave, I blurt out, “If you hear from?—”

“Tomar,” he finishes. “You will be the first to know. I assure you.”

Any day now…

He will contact them.

They have a group of Common that visit a Hub every second day where they meet with men like Tomar. Men who help Common, like me, escape.If they want to escape.Many citizens appreciate The Trade, their protection and the simplicity of Meaningful Purpose. Others do not.

My hand was forced.

By Maple and Spero.

Watching Robert stroll away past the other cabins, I bounce Spero on my hip.

Guilt trickles through me.

I wish I could be happy, at least enough to smile with appreciation. They accepted me into their community—a secluded village protected from the Redwind by mountainous walls—and gave me a little cabin all my own, freedom, and my own plot in the greenhouse.

It should be perfect.

I close the door, mindlessly walking to the second bedroom that I use as a playroom. Placing Spero on the mat, I crawl down beside him, lying flush on the floor.

My fingers make patterns on my swollen belly, tanglinghisshirt over the swell, achingly familiar with the moment—me lying here, making swirls and sobbing.

For months.

Jerky, shuddering breaths expel as I fight internally. Not to cry. Not today. His absence, his unborn baby, Spero, and the throbbing between my thighs that begs for him is too much, but it’s the unknown that won’t relent. The questions that canter through me—they destroy me.

Is he dead?

Are they hurting him?

Does he love me?

Was it real?Us…

Or did he just pretend?

My mind swarms with memories.

---