Page 85 of The Artist
“I could eat.” Indiana, who was next to Freya, leaned over to see what she had packed and the two of them discussed the assortment of drinks, fruit, sandwiches, cake, chopped vegetables, and crackers.
“You didn’t bring any beef jerky?”
“Sure, wait a second.” Freya pulled out a bag of what looked like peeled carrots and smacked Indiana on the head with it.
“Ouch, what did you do that for?” He rubbed the place she had hit him and turned to Thor. “Control your sister, will you?”
Thor was busy reading something on a screen in front of him and didn’t look up. “Freya, stop beating up Indiana. Use your words, please.”
We all laughed because the notion of Freya being violent for real was absurd, and when Indiana tried to dig into her supply of snacks, she pulled it away. “I’m withdrawing my offer to share with you.”
He tried one more time, but she stood firm and turned her chair to the rest of us. “Would anyone who hasn’t criticized the selection like something?”
Indiana groaned. “I wasn’t criticizing the selection and I’m hungry. I didn’t eat breakfast!”
“Then you should have packed something yourself. All you had to do was ask the kitchen to prepare it for you.”
With his full beard and a shirt so tight I could see his bulging muscles, Indiana sat back in his seat with a pout worthy of a child.
“Here.” Mason fished a bag from under his seat and shoved it toward Indiana. “Fuel up and lose the grumpy expression.”
Knowing it was a six-hour flight to Europe, I placed my chair in a sleeping position and turned on my side. I hadn’t slept much with all my worries driving me insane. The fact that I was pregnant was still incredible to me and I couldn’t stop thinking about the child that was growing inside of me. Would he or she be tall like Mason? Would our baby have his blue eyes, red hair, and temper? Or would our child be more like me with soft features and brown hair and eyes?
When we first entered the drone, Mason had asked Aubri to swap seats with him so he could sit next to me. With me lying down on my side, he had his elbow on my hip until he removed it to cover me with a blanket.
I was so over-tired that I almost cried at his kind gesture. Ever since he learned that I could be pregnant, Mason had treated me differently. The few times we had talked, he’d tried to make me believe that his interest was in me and not just our child.
I wished he was telling the truth, but in my heart, I knew that things between us had been strictly platonic before the accident with the avalanche. Mason’s romantic interest in me had started the moment I offered to have sex with him and even then, he’d been clear that he could never marry me.
After being part of the French delegation since I was twelve, I was too familiar with being tolerated instead of wanted. Every time our delegation came back from a summit and did interviews, I was always pushed in the background as if I were incapable of saying something interesting.
Keeping my eyes closed, I turned around to face Mason and spied on him by cracking my eyes open just a little. He was reading an article and I would have to open my eyes more to make out the words, but then he scrolled down a little and a fetus spun slowly, showing it from every angle with a larger text above saying “Ten weeks.”
Mason expanded the picture making it larger before he scrolled on to read more. I saw pictures of fetuses at twelve, sixteen, and twenty weeks before tears made me close my eyes shut.
I was going to be a mother and there was a chance that the people in this drone would succeed in negotiating a way for me to keep my child.
My chest constricted and made it hard to breathe as emotions overwhelmed me.
Mason’s warm hand on my hair was followed by his leaning down over me and pressing his forehead against mine while whispering, “What’s wrong? Are you scared that they’ll make you stay?”
“Mhmm.”
Sliding his hand under my blanket, Mason took my hand and kissed my cheek. “They’re going to have to kill me first, sweetheart. You are my family now.”
I squeezed his hand tight as I fell even deeper for this man who had already saved my life once and was now offering to fight for me.
“Mason,” I whispered low enough for only him to hear me.
“Yes?” He looked deep into my eyes and stroked my hair.
“Thank you.” I felt a tear falling down my temple.
“Hang on.” Pushing some buttons, he moved his seat closer to mine and reclined it to lie next to me. Then Mason spread the blanket to cover his legs and pulled me into his arms.
His closeness and warmth made me think of the way upset babies at my work would calm when I held them close. Pressing my nose against his chest, I inhaled his soothing masculine scent while falling into sync with his breathing.
“Listen to me, Belle, when we’re back home, we’ll talk about everything, but for now, all you need to do is relax and not worry. Try to get some sleep.”
