It hurts.
The knowledge that I will have this baby, and the boys will never see it. It will never know them. I can never truly describe how amazing they were.
A fresh wave of grief follows me along the path that leads from Eliah’s studio to Ames’s war room. Momentarily forgetting why I was downstairs at all.
“Lenora.”
I turn to find Marcus in the corridor behind me clad in his sleeping trousers. Topless. My candlelight reflects in his cool eyes as he moves closer.
“What are you doing down here?”
I gesture in the direction of the greenhouse.
“I think I fell asleep. I woke up and it was dark.”
He stares at me, brows scrunched in confusion. Concern. His gaze drifts over me, taking me in and stopping at my feet.
“Were you sleepwalking?” He inches even closer. “You were in bed.”
I blink. “What? No, I…”
I trail off when I glance down at the pale nightgown slipped over me. My fingers tremble when I reach down and touch the shiny material.
“I don’t remember,” I whisper faintly.
“Hey, it’s okay.” His touch is warm on my arms. “You’re under a lot of stress. It happens. Come on. Let’s go back.”
I let him take my hand and lead me to bed. The entire way, I stare at the candle, the tiny sliver of wax nearly at the end, and I swear, it had been longer when I picked it up only minutes before.
Chapter Thirty-Four
Lenora
Ichooseoneoftheguestrooms.
It’s the only one across from mine with wide, French doors that overlook the ocean. The wallpaper is a deep, paisley green that reminds me of a forest, but the wood is a rich brown. Fresh, like nothing has touched it.
I don’t think anyone has. Not since I’ve been here, at least. We never had company. All the guestrooms were forever made up only for no one to ever stay in them.
But this one will be for the baby.
Close enough that I can get to it at night. The four-poster bed will need to be replaced by a crib. I don’t know what else a baby needs, but there are books. Though, I don’t know how much more time I have left before it arrives.
Already the fronts of my dresses have begun to strain. I have ballooned overnight. A high globe that prevents me from picking things up off the floor. It was only two days ago that I could easily cover the bump with both hands.
Now, it’s large enough that the weight forces me to shuffle when I wake. It pulls on my lower back, arching my spine.
The book I found explains that I am roughly at the end of my third trimester. An impossibility, given I was barely three months twenty-four hours ago. At this rate, I’ll have the baby before the week ends.
“There you are.”
I turn at the sound of Marcus coming up behind me. His gaze — as it has begun to — drops to my midsection before returning to my face.
“How are you feeling?”
My hands instinctively go to my middle.
“Fine, I think. Was thinking of making this into a nursery.”
