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Chapter 25

Samantha

Seven Months Later

Iwoke before sunrise because my body refused to let me rest any longer.

Every position hurt. My hips ached with a deep, grinding pressure. My lower back throbbed like someone had taken a hammer to it, and the baby sat so low it felt as if I carried a bowling ball lodged in my pelvis. I lay on my side in the bed, staring at the dark ceiling, breathing slowly through my nose so I wouldn’t wake Richard.

Then the baby kicked.

Richard stirred behind me. Even half asleep, he moved with that quiet certainty of his. His arm slid around me, and his palm settled over my stomach.

“There he is,” he murmured, voice rough with sleep.

I laughed softly. “We still don’t know if it’s a boy.”

He rubbed slow circles over my skin, as if coaxing the baby to answer. “It is.”

“What if it’s a girl?”

“It’s not.”

The baby kicked again, stronger this time, as if agreeing. Richard’s smile pressed against the back of my neck.

“See, he’s agreeing with me.”

I laughed despite the discomfort.

We stayed like that for several quiet minutes, his hand still moving in those gentle circles. I could feel the weight of the day ahead, but right then it felt distant.

Richard’s voice came low. “Did you sleep?”

“Barely.” I shifted a little and winced. “My ankles are swollen. My back hurts. I can’t even bend over anymore without feeling like I might tip forward.”

He made a soft sound of understanding.

“I feel enormous.” I tried to joke, but the words came out tired. “I waddle now. Like a penguin.”

“You’re beautiful,” he said quietly.

My throat tightened. Sometimes I still couldn’t believe this was my life. Eight months ago I buried my father. Tonight I’d attend my first company gala as Mrs. Kincaid. Soon I would become a mother. I closed my eyes and sent a silent wish into the dark:

Dad, I wish you could meet my baby.

Richard helped me sit up, then stand. He knelt without being asked and slipped my slippers onto my feet because I couldn’t reach them comfortably anymore. I watched the top of his dark head, the careful way he moved, and felt that familiar ache of gratitude mixed with disbelief.

This man, who had once seemed so distant and commanding, now put on my slippers like it was the most natural thing in the world.

The hours passed in a gentle blur of preparation. Richard worked from his office for a while, giving me space to rest between contractions of discomfort, while I moved slowly through the house.

By late afternoon the stylists arrived, and soon I stood in front of the mirror in the gown the designer had created. Deep burgundy silk draped elegantly over my very pregnant body. Gold embroidery traced vines and pomegranate blossoms across the bodice and down the sides. A delicate gold leaf crown rested in my hair, and my makeup was soft, warm, and elegant.

When I stepped out of the bedroom, Richard actually paused mid-motion. His gaze traveled over me slowly, taking in every detail. He wore an immaculate black tailored suit beneath a sweeping black overcoat, subtle gold accents catching the light and a dark crown completing the look.

We were Hades and Persephone.

He walked over and placed both hands on my stomach. He looked down as if addressing the baby directly. “You behave tonight.”