Page 102 of Worth Risking It

Wyatt was rounding the corner with Richard tucked in his arms, a bottle propped in his mouth. “They gone?”

I nodded, my emotions rising. Shaking, wringing my fingers together, I tilted my head and let the tears flow.

He tensed, his spine straightening, his eyelids rounding. “What’s going on? Why has Milo had you locked down since the hospital?”

A sob broke free, my soul writhing for the pain I was about to inflict on him. My trembling fingers covered my mouth as I whispered a sentence that had devastating results for our future.

“I’m pregnant.”

Chapter 43

Wyatt Shaw

The dark stained wood swirled with the white accents of walls and ceiling and morphed into a blur that had me dizzy. Stumbling forward, my knees gave out and I dropped to a leather, winged back chair, clutching my son in my arms.

Pregnant.

Blinking rapidly, I gazed up at her hovering near the fireplace. She was trembling, chewing her nails, silent tears rolling down her blanched cheeks.

Coughing, I took a sharp inhale through my nose and looked down at Richard. He was staring up at me with his dark blue eyes, one tiny fist rubbing at his cheek and then nose while he sucked on the bottle. His Pampinella would be here soon. The reason this little boy was alive was to protect the baby in the stomach of the woman I loved.

She inched forward and lowered to the leather bench that was used as a coffee table in the center of the sitting area. Pushing the magazines aside, she barely blinked, ogling me, waiting for a response.

My heart was ripping to pieces. Chastity and I would never be allowed to have happiness together. We’d just been fooling ourselves the last few months.

“Daddy?” she squeaked, her eyebrows creased, her head tipped just a bit.

The knife twisted and my stomach bottomed out, my lids closing to hide the agony that one word just caused. “How far along?”

“Six weeks.”

My head bobbed, sweat coating my skin. I patted Richard’s bottom when he grew restless and started kicking his legs out. Removing the bottle, I set it in the seat beside me, shifted him to my shoulder, and rubbed his back, refusing to make eye contact.

“I guess…” She sniveled and wept, taking a jagged breath. “This means no Spain, huh?”

My eyes rolled behind my closed lids, peering at her when I opened them. Appalled at how utterly broken my voice was, I cringed but said, “C’mon, kitten. Let’s be real. We both knew, deep down inside, that was never going to happen.”

Her lovely features twisted with another sob, her shoulders drawing to her ears. Covering her face, she rocked and wept, and I could do nothing to comfort her.

Richard burped, so I eased him back to the crook of my elbow. Using the rag on my shoulder, I wiped at a little spittle and replaced the bottle’s nipple in his mouth. “This is how it was always meant to be.”

Her head swayed left then right, turning away from me with another choked sob while she gripped the edge of the bench until her knuckles turned white.

“Ricky will protect your baby with his life, you know that. He or she will always be safe, kitten.”

Her frame shook violently and she coughed and sniffled, wiping at her face that was still turned away.

“It’s what the Shaw’s are made for, what we’ve always been born to do.”

I slowly rose to my feet and took one step before she spun around and grabbed the leg of my jeans.

“I love you,” she rasped, her face red and stained with tears.

A knot tightened my throat, fire burning throughout my chest and stomach. Swallowing several times, I nodded stiffly and wheezed, “I’ll never love anyone but you, kitten.”

“Wyatt!”

I bent over for one last kiss but hesitated with our mouths an inch apart. She cupped my ears, trying to prevent me from pulling away.