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She studies my face, searching for something. I know then that whatever upset her earlier has not gone away. It’s been waiting for me.
“We should talk,” she whispers.
I nod once and help her rise without waking Ivy. Winston watches us with suspicious little eyes as Daisy remains beside the bed. I guide Maggie into the hallway and close the door behind us, leaving my daughter asleep beneath the protection of two dogs and every guard I own.
Maggie stands in the hallway wearing the look of a woman carrying news that can change a man’s life. I reach for her hand, and she lets me take it. I lead Maggie toward the guest suite, but as soon as we step inside, she slips her hand from mine.
Something’s wrong. It’s the look on her face that concerns me. She looks shaken.
She wraps both arms around herself and walks toward the window overlooking the back gardens. She stands there for several seconds staring out into the darkness.
I close the door quietly behind us and loosen my tie, watching her carefully. “Maggie.”
She releases a long breath. “I had this whole speech planned.”
I stay where I am, giving her the space she clearly needs. “Then give it.”
She drags a hand through her hair and shakes her head. “That's the problem. I can't remember any of it now.”
I wait. She finally turns around, and the sight of tears shining in her eyes sends a surge of alarm through me.
“What happened?” I ask.
Her face crumples. She presses both hands over her mouth for a moment before lowering them again. “I'm sorry. I just...” She laughs shakily. “Lord knows this is not how I wanted to do this.”
Something dark and protective unfurls inside me. I cross the room slowly.
“What happened?” I ask again.
She shakes her head at once. “Nothing bad.”
I don’t believe her. “Maggie.”
She lowers her eyes to the floor between us, twisting her fingers together so tightly that her knuckles pale.
“I took one of the pregnancy tests Jules bought me.”
At first, I don’t understand. Then I do. Silence fills the room.
Maggie lifts her head, searching my face, and whatever she sees there makes her take a step backward.
“Oh God,” she panics. “You're upset.”
I close the distance between us in two strides. “No.”
“You went completely still.”
I lift both hands to her face, gently forcing her to look at me. “Look at me.”
She does.
“I’m not upset.”
“Then why aren't you saying anything?”
Because I can’t breathe. Because four years ago, I watched my wife die in front of me. Because every person I’ve ever loved has paid a price for loving me in return, and now Magnolia Hayes is standing in front of me carrying my child.
“You’re pregnant?” I ask.
