“You shouldn’t be taking calls with the door open.” She looks up at me. “Is Dad okay?”
“He’s alive. But the case against him is solid.”
“How solid?”
“Five to ten years if he’s convicted.”
She sucks in a breath. “That’s not okay.”
“I know. I’m working on it.”
“Are you?” Her voice is small. Uncertain. “Or are you just saying that because you think it’s what I want to hear?”
I turn her in my lap so I can see her face. “I’m working on it. I’ve got the best lawyer money can buy. I’m calling in every favor we have. I’m doing everything I can to get your father out of that cell.”
“Why?”
The question catches me off guard. “What do you mean, why?”
“He sold me to Marcus. He tried to force me into a marriage I didn’t want. He put the club above everything, including his own daughter.” Her eyes search mine. “So why are you trying so hard to save him?”
I’m quiet for a long moment, choosing my words.
“Because he saved me,” I say finally. “When I had nothing, when I’d lost everything, he gave me a home. A family. A purpose. He made me who I am.” I cup her face in my hands. “And because he’s your father. And you deserve to have him in your life, even if he’s made mistakes.”
Her eyes get wet. “You’re too good.”
“I’m not. I’m just trying to do the right thing.”
She kisses me. Soft and sweet and full of something I’m afraid to name.
When she pulls back, I rest my forehead against hers. “I need to tell you something,” I say.
“Okay.”
“I want to announce the pregnancy at church and make it official. Let the brothers know.”
She stiffens in my arms. “Ash?—”
“I know you’re scared. I know there are complications. But hiding it doesn’t make it go away. And the longer we wait, the harder it gets.”
“What if it’s Marcus’s?” The words come out in a rush. “If this baby is Marcus’s, everything changes. The club won’t accept it. Your brothers won’t accept me. And you—” Her voice breaks. “You’ll look at me differently. You’ll see him every time you look at our child.”
“That’s not true.”
“You don’t know that.”
“I do.” I tilt her face up, forcing her to meet my eyes. “Because I love you. And nothing—not Marcus, not DNA, not anything—is going to change that.”
She searches my face. “What if I need proof?” she whispers. “What if I need to know for sure?”
“Then we’ll get proof after we announce it.” I stroke my thumb across her cheekbone. “We’ll do a paternity test. But tonight, we tell the club you’re pregnant. It shows strength. Shows we’re building a future.”
“You want to announce before we even know?”
“I want the club to see their president starting a family.” I press my forehead to hers. “And I want Marcus to know he failed. You’re mine. This baby is mine. He lost.”
A tear slides down her cheek. I catch it with my thumb.
