“Not yet,” I say, trying to imagine a nursery in the penthouse.
“It’s a good place to start,” she says.
“So keep calm, fill a room in the house with baby stuff. Is that it?” Ransome asks.
“It’s more than just being calm and going shopping,” she says with a patient smile. “Harmony in the home is the key. No chaos, no drama. Just a nice, peaceful home, you know?”
I have to bite back a laugh. She’s kidding, right? I guess she’s probably not. All of that makes sense for a normal life. In a normal world.
Just not ours.
Ransome opens my car door for me and waits patiently while I lower myself inside. Who knew that carrying such a tiny little person could make it so difficult to move? I feel three times my normal size and I haven’t even gained that much weight. Still, I feel like a Cruiser, awkwardly trying to parallel park in a compact spot.
“I think we need an SUV,” I say as soon as Ransome gets in the car.
“You don’t like my car?” he asks.
“I don’t fit in your car,” I mutter.
“You’re being dramatic.”
“You’re being dishonest.”
“You look beautiful,” he says, and I literally have nothing to say to that. I’m not used to this more patient, less angry, emotionless mobster version of him.
As we drive, he’s quiet. I can tell his mind is back at the clinic. “Anything you’re worried about?” I ask.
“Just trying to figure out the best way to implement the low-stress plan,” he says. Meanwhile, he takes a turn I don’t remember as far as directions to the penthouse go.
“You mean you don’t think our lives are low stress?” I joke but he doesn’t smile.
“This is serious, Amara. High blood pressure can wreak havoc on a pregnancy, especially in the third trimester.”
“Okay. So are you going to tell the Chadovichs or should I?” I ask and he gives me a side-eye.
“You don’t need to worry about the Chadovichs. I’ll take care of that. All you need to worry about is making sure our baby is okay.”
Ransome takes another turn and we are suddenly winding through a gated community made up of houses that could only be described as mansions. They are scattered throughout the hills, each one with enough land to have privacy. It’s gorgeous, but I am confused.
“Where are we going?” I ask him.
“Home,” he says as we drive deeper into what I can only describe as the northeast version of billionaire row.
“That’s funny,” I tell him. “I don’t remember the penthouse being around here.”
“It’s not,” he says. “I sold the penthouse.”
I peel my eyes away from the elaborate houses to look at him. “You did? When?”
“When you left. I had no use for it anymore.”
“Oh…” I trail off as I connect the dots, realizing for the first time where we are going.
Ransome turns down a drive where he keys in a code and a giant, golden gate opens up. We follow a line of trees and fancy street lamps before the foliage opens up, revealing a massive, sprawling house.
“Where are we?” I ask with my mouth open.
“Home,” he says as he parks and gets out.
