LITMIR.BIZ

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“Mrs. Curtis?”

      “Oh, jeez,” Mary muttered.

      “We can correct that later,” Ethan assured her, then turned to the receptionist and said, “She’s right here.”

      “We’ll be taking you back soon,” the woman informed them.

      Mary saw it all in her mind: an examination table covered in a crisp old English linen sheet with exquisite crocheted trim and white slip-covered booties on the stirrups. She giggled a little hysterically.

      “You need to relax,” Ethan suggested gently.

      “Easy for you to say,” Mary uttered as the receptionist held out a clipboard with a flower pen attached.

      “If you can just fill out this paperwork.”

      Sensing that Mary was not about to move, Ethan retrieved the papers for her and placed them in her lap. “I could do this if—”

      “No, it’s fine.”

      As Mary filled out the forms, the words blurred together, and she had to stop and take a deep breath. The front door to the office opened and a woman came in. She was really far along in her pregnancy and looked exhausted. She dropped down in the chair beside Mary’s love seat and exhaled heavily. When she spotted Mary, she smiled. “Long way to go yet, huh? When are you due?”

      “What? Oh…ah…” It was all she could get out. Her heart pounded furiously in her chest, and waves of nausea were hitting her every few minutes. She needed air, needed to breathe something other than that damn flower smell. Suddenly panicked, she stood, dropped the paperwork on the table and ran out of the office. She spotted a stairwell to her left and ran to the door. Down the stairs she flew, her shirt spotted with sweat, her breathing labored. She heard Ethan behind her, calling her name, but she didn’t stop. Once she made it to the lobby, she swung the front door open wide and ran to a grassy spot where a few nurses were eating their lunch.

      Breathing heavily, she wanted to collapse on the grass, but instead she started pacing.

      “Mary?”

      She didn’t look at him, didn’t stop moving. “I can’t do this.”

      “It’s okay.” His voice was soothing, and she hated him for his concern. He was the one who’d gotten them into this mess in the first place, damn him. “You don’t have to see her,” he continued. “Use your own doctor. I just thought it would be—”

      “It’s not the doctor, Ethan.”

      “Then what?” When she wouldn’t stop pacing, he grabbed her shoulders and held her against him, his tone worried now. “What the hell is wrong?”

      His chest felt so strong and she wanted to sink into it, disappear inside of it, but he wouldn’t allow her to hide. Easing one hand from her shoulder, he tipped her chin up so she had to look at him.

      “Tell me what’s going on, Mary.”

      Miserably, she shook her head. “There is no baby.”

      “What?”

      “No baby, Ethan.”

      He went white. “Did something happen…that boat ride…”

      “No.” She stared at him, into those beautiful dark-blue eyes she’d believed for so long were soulless. What a damn mess. This whole thing. “I just wanted my father to be okay.”

      He still looked confused, but after a moment, realization dawned and confusion was swapped for a fiercely accusing gaze. “You were never pregnant?”

      Shame coiled in her belly and she shook her head. “No.”

      “You were never pregnant,” he repeated.

      “I’m sorry.”

      Ethan stared at her, his eyes wide in fury. “Yes, you will be,” he uttered, his jaw knotted with the force of emotion.

      “Ethan.”

      “I should’ve known.”

      “Ethan, please, I—” But her words fell on deaf ears. He had already turned his back on her and was stalking toward his car. Feeling as though she’d just assaulted someone, Mary dropped onto a hard picnic bench and watched his BMW leave the parking lot, tires squealing.

Seven

      Twenty minutes later, Ethan entered the crumbling stone gates of Days of Grace Trailer Park. As he drove past the shabby office, muscle memory took hold and his BMW practically steered itself to the curb beside number fifty-three. The one-bedroom mobile home his father had sold just before his death looked as though it had been remodeled, as though someone were really trying to make the place a home, with fresh paint, a nice carport and fenced garden.

      “About damn time,” Ethan muttered, opening his window a crack before killing the engine.

      It was ironic. At sixteen, he couldn’t have gotten out of this park fast enough. He’d had big dreams, big plans, and he’d sworn to himself he’d never be back. But here he was, drawn to it like scum to bathroom tile. How was it that he felt infinitely more comfortable parked outside his father’s trailer than at his home or office? Why was it that he could breathe here? The air was stale and slightly mildewed; nothing had changed.

      He shoved a hand through his hair. He should have expected Mary to lie to him. People were never honest, never to be trusted—including himself. Why the hell hadn’t he learned that in all this time? Maybe because he’d thought himself worthy of a family, good enough to make a child with a Harrington.

      A large man in his early thirties wearing a baseball hat and ripped jeans came out of the house. When he spotted Ethan, he lifted a hand in a wary hello. Wasn’t the first time the guy had seen Ethan parked there, but he’d never called security. No doubt the guy knew he could’ve handled the situation himself if things got out of control. After all, he was pretty big.

      Not looking for any more trouble today, Ethan gunned the engine of his sports car and took off back to his self-made world.

      Mondays were usually Mary’s best day. She was well rested, coffeed-up and excited to get back to work. Today, however, she felt as though a semi had been driving back and forth over her body all night long. She felt jittery and exhausted at the same time—a wicked combination.

      As she walked into the office, her hand shook a little around the double espresso she carried. The first person she saw was Olivia. The startlingly pretty brunette was sitting at the receptionist’s desk—something she liked to do before Meg, the receptionist, got there at nine. “Hey there, Miss Kelley,” she said in a chipper voice. “You’re here early.”

      “And I’m not the only one.”

      “I have some phone calls to return. I wanted to get to them early.” Olivia’s eyes narrowed as she stared hard at Mary. “Did you get any sleep last night?”

      Mary sighed, placed her plastic coffee cup on the reception desk. “I think somewhere between four and six I dozed off.”

      “Work…or—” Olivia hesitated, bit her full bottom lip “—something else?”

      For a moment Mary contemplated blowing Olivia’s mind with the entire story of Ethan Curtis and her. She just wanted to unburden herself with a girlfriend for a few minutes, emotionally puke and have Olivia figuratively hold her hair back. But for good or bad, the partners of NRR just didn’t go there with each other—though Mary wondered if any of them wanted to but were afraid to ruffle the feathers of their business.

      “I was working late,” Mary said at last. “The captain is very demanding.”

      Olivia laughed at that, her dark eyes filled with mirth. “He seems like a semidecent guy, despite the millions and the bawdy reputation.”

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