Page 93 of Nothing to Beat

How quickly things changed.At that time the previous week, the idea they’d even considered having a child was a secret.That she’d been considering it, Breck wasn’t supposed to be attached to the notion at all.

“We shouldn’t be talking about this.You’re supposed to be the sperm donor.”

There was that deadpan look again.“Coy.”

“I know.Okay?I know.You want to be involved.”

“I am involved.We will raise this child together.You’re out of excuses.We’ve put things to bed with your father.”

“Not yet.We can’t afford to get complacent.That’s usually exactly when he sneaks past and gets his way.”

“We cannot live our lives in fear.”

Uh, which was exactly her point all along.

“Once he’s in prison—”

“Chances are you’ll have given birth by then.He’s under bail restrictions in Chicago at the moment.Soon they’ll bring additional charges and he’ll be unable to reach us.”In an ideal world.He gathered her hand into his, using his other to tempt her jaw around until they were looking into each other.“What’s really holding you back?”

“You don’t have a job.”The tilt of his head emptied her lungs.“I don’t know.I want this; I know I want this.”

“And some part of you thinks you don’t deserve it?”

Was that it?Once again he proved he might truly know her better than she knew herself.That conclusion wasn’t even—look at her life, her history, her genetics.Was it right to…?But it was done.Their child existed.

Her own fingers trailed to her belly.“Can we just go home, get some sleep, and try to make sense of this tomorrow?”

When maybe sense might be in order again.She’d woken up wanting to become a mother, ready to find out if it was a possibility for her future.Instead, she’d learned motherhood was already upon her.

Breck was right, they needed a bigger apartment.

THIRTY-TWO

SHE LEFT THE APARTMENT that morning, after a good night’s sleep, while Breck was in the shower.It wasn’t an act of cowardice, it was a desperate grab for normality.That was the first day that week she’d got up and gone into Breckenridge as was her usual routine.

No lawyers.No District Attorneys, or Assistant District Attorneys.No evidence.No testifying.No Gambattos or crime lords.Just work.Good, normal, any-other-day work.

That was the idea anyway.

Pregnancy was such a huge thing.It didn’t help that no one else knew.No one except Breck, who was doing exactly what she needed him to do by not calling or tracking her down.As much as she needed him, she needed space, and he got that.

Did he have to be so damn wonderful all the time?

Work might be getting done, but her heart wasn’t in it.There was a child growing in her belly.A real baby.Some moments she got a zip of excitement.Others were dread.What parental role model did she have to emulate?None.

Maybe it would be better for the kid if she handed him over to Breck and ran a million miles.Gambatto selfishness might creep in otherwise.What if it didn’t work out the way she thought.The baby could be born and maybe she wouldn’t be flooded with the love parents were supposed to feel.

Would she resent the child, as her parents resented her, and anyone else who didn’t subscribe to their way of life?She could corrupt him.What had she been thinking continuing the Gambatto line?

“How was LA?”

Benedict Breckenridge.Family patriarch.CEO.Mentor.Philanthropist.One of the most successful men of his generation.Yep, that was Benedict Breckenridge standing in her doorway.

“Breck called you?”

That kind of came across as an accusation, which was so not her intention.

His genuine smile warmed the room, activating her trust.“Not today,” he said, strolling further inside.“You didn’t come to say hello.”

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