A Game Of Vows Part 15

She lay against his chest, her heart pounding hard, her head swimming. She wanted to speak; she couldn't. A moment later she realized she was shaking. And crying, tears falling on his bare skin.

"I ..." she started.

But there was nothing to say. She was overwhelmed. She was pregnant with this man's baby. This man who held her so tightly. Who made her feel close to someone for the first time ever.

No one had ever loved her. And she had never thought of it before. But now ... now, in his arms, she wished so much that it could be different. That she could be different. That she could be loved.

He kept his arms wrapped tightly around her and held her close. She kept shaking and he reached down to grab the covers, drawing them up over both of them.

"Sleep now, querida. We'll talk more tomorrow."

She nodded wordlessly, unable to speak around the lump in her throat.

She curled up against him, inhaled the scent of him, so uniquely Eduardo. Then she closed her eyes and tried to fall asleep. Trying to fight off all of the demons that were threatening to tear her apart.

Eduardo woke up as the first rays of sun began to filter through the expansive windows of the room. He'd forgotten to close the blinds because his headache had hit after dark.

He rolled over to look at Hannah and his heart seized.

She was so beautiful. And achingly vulnerable. He didn't know how he'd missed it for so long. He'd imagined her invincible, a fair target to bring into his sphere. She could handle herself, after all, and he would never leave her empty-handed.

But he could see now that he'd been wrong. Very wrong.

He thought about what she'd said the day before. About him barely being able to run his business, much less run it with a baby around to distract him. She was right. And yet, when he thought back to his own childhood, the way his father had been, stern and distant, but steady and so very present, he couldn't imagine being anything less for his own child.

He had the resources to care for a son or daughter. And his mother would be thrilled.

And if you can't do it? If the crying gives you migraines and lack of sleep makes it impossible for you to concentrate? If it gets so bad you can't see? What will you do then?

He would figure it out. He had no other choice. They could get nannies, the best available. He would have to. But he could make it work.

He knew it now, with certainty. It had been too hard to process in his office, beneath the bright fluorescent lights. But now, in the gray light of dawn, with Hannah warm and naked by his side, it did seem clear.

He'd wanted to decide what to do about the baby before anything else happened between them ... but when she'd come to him, so vulnerable, so achingly sad, he hadn't been able to deny her. Especially as her misery seemed to be a reflection of his own.

She'd asked him to make her warm. She'd made him warm.

He moved his hand down to Hannah's stomach and his heart pounded faster. Harder.

"Are you awake?" he whispered.

Hannah's eyes opened slowly. "Oh ..."

"You sound disappointed," he said.

She rolled over and buried her face in her pillow. "I slept with you again."

"I remember."

She rolled over again. "It wasn't a good idea. It ... confuses things."

"Can things be any more confusing?"

"Oh, I don't know, but this can't possibly help clear it up."

"Okay, that's probably true." He moved into a sitting position, unconcerned with the fact that he was still naked. Hannah averted her eyes, clearly of a different opinion, clutching the sheets to her chest. "I'd like to talk to you. About the baby."

"I ..." She bit her lip. "Now?"

"Why don't you go shower. I'll shower. We'll have breakfast. Then I'd like to walk with you for a while. On the beach."

She nodded slowly. "I can do that."

"Good." He leaned in and kissed her forehead, the move not planned. And he found he didn't regret it.

He got out of bed and walked toward his bathroom, taking a small amount of satisfaction in Hannah's m.u.f.fled squeak, likely brought on by his continued nudity. He turned and saw her scrambling out of bed with the sheet still wrapped tightly around her body.

"You might as well let it drop, Hannah. I've seen it all."

Something in her expression changed, a sad smile lifting the corner of her lips. "Not in daylight. I'll see you in a bit." She turned, still covered, and walked out of the room.

Hannah was done showering before Eduardo, and had a few moments down in the breakfast area by herself. She nibbled on a bowl of fruit for a while, then asked one of Eduardo's staff if she could get some bacon. Bacon sounded good. It wasn't a pregnant craving, she was pretty sure it was too soon for that. She was just feeling horrible and trying to comfort herself with food.

She nibbled on the bacon while she thought about how today would play out. Yet again, it seemed impossible to plan.

She would have to tell Eduardo. There was really no way around it. Because she had to explain to him where she was coming from.

He appeared a few moments later, dressed in shorts and sandals, ready for a casual walk on the beach. She only had one pair of jeans, so she was going to have to settle for rolling them up past her ankles.

"I'm not really hungry," he said. "Are you ready?"

She picked up another bacon strip. "Yeah." She stood and took a deep breath, following him out the back door of the house. There was a little path that cut through the meadow and led down the hillside, tall gra.s.s rising up, making the walkway feel enclosed. Private.

The ground softened and turned from dirt to sand, the chilly, salty air stinging her cheeks. They were quiet until they reached the sh.o.r.e.

"How are you feeling now, Hannah?"

"Now that I've had a full twenty-four hours to process it?" she asked.

"Yes."

"Not great."

"Tell me," he said, still walking. Heading toward a grove of trees that was at the far end of the beach. "Do you still want to give the baby up?"

Her throat tightened. "It's not a matter of want, Eduardo. It's about ... about doing what's best for the baby. I wasn't very nice yesterday, to you, when I said that about caring for a baby and the company, but my point is still solid. I'm married to my work, and you're willing to do anything for your job. So when exactly are we going to find the time to raise a child? And with me in the U.S. and you here in Spain ..."

"So, be here."

"Me? Move to Spain?"

"You've lived here before. You liked it."

She'd more than liked it. She loved Spain. In so many ways it felt like her home. "Yes," she said slowly, "but I have a job back in San Francisco, a.s.suming they haven't cleaned out my desk."

"You've left plenty of jobs."

"That's not really the issue."

"Then what is?"

The truth hovered on the edge of her lips, but she couldn't quite bring herself to say it, not just yet.

"My father was very much committed to his business," Eduardo said. "He was still a good father."

"You were angry with him half the time."

"I know. Because I was young and stupid and ent.i.tled. And if there's one change I am thankful for in myself, it's that my fall seems to have knocked some of the jacka.s.s out of me."

She laughed. "Some, maybe. But you still have plenty."

They reached the little cl.u.s.ter of trees and they walked beneath them. Hannah looked up at the green leaves, a spiderweb of sunlight breaching the foliage.

"Do you know how all-consuming a baby will be?" she asked, her stomach churning.

"I'm not sure that I do. But no parent really does until they have one of their own."

It had been years since she'd thought of that long-ago baby as her son. She couldn't. Couldn't let herself have that connection to him. Because she knew better than most that it took more than blood to be a parent. For her son, his parents were the people who had raised him. Who had stayed up nights with him. She had simply carried him.

If only that were enough to abolish the connection she felt.

"I'm afraid," she whispered, tears clogging her throat.

"Of course you are, Hannah. Childbirth is ... an unknown experience. Pregnancy is certainly ..."

"No." She shook her head, trying to ignore the pain that was crawling through her veins. "I know all about being pregnant. About what it's like to feel your baby move inside you for the first time ... It's ... it's a miracle, Eduardo." She felt a tear slide down her cheek. "Labor is as awful as they say. But in the end there's this perfect little ... life. And it's so worth it. All of it. The morning sickness, the stretch marks. The pain."

"Hannah," he said, his tone flat, cold.

"I was sixteen when I got pregnant," she said. She'd never voiced the words out loud before. Had never confided in anyone. "And I knew there was no way I could take care of a baby." Another tear fell and she didn't wipe it away.

"I gave him up. Because it was the right thing to do. But ... but I'm not sure I can go through it again. I don't think I could give this one up, even if I should. And I'm afraid ... I'm afraid that if I do keep this baby, I'll really understand what I gave up then."

CHAPTER ELEVEN.

HANNAH felt emotion coming in thick, unendurable waves. She could drown in it, in the pain, the misery. The starkness of the truth. It was so very ugly, and yet, it was a part of her.

"Hannah that must have been ..."

"There are days when I'm so glad that I did it. Because I was this poor, high school dropout with no future and what could I offer him? Nothing. Nothing but more of the same. More poverty. More ... neglect maybe while I tried to work and earn enough money to keep us in whatever filthy apartment I could afford. Was I going to take him back to the single-wide I shared with my dad? Expose him to secondhand smoke and mice and bugs and everything else we had to contend with?" She looked down. "But some people make it. I just ... I knew I wasn't strong enough. I knew I didn't know how."

"What about the father?"

She shook her head, a faint feeling of embarra.s.sment creeping over her, joining the misery. "I didn't really know him. He was this senior guy I hooked up with at a party. He wasn't my boyfriend. Obviously, I was very irresponsible. It wasn't the first time I'd done something like that, cla.s.sic acting-out behaviors. I'm kind of a shameful stereotype. No attention from Dad so ... anyway, you get the idea. He went away to college. I called about the baby but he ... he didn't call back."

"He didn't call you back?"

"We were both young and stupid. He had college to look forward to. A way out of the h.e.l.lhole we lived in and probably the last thing he wanted was to deal with having a kid back home. It doesn't excuse him but ... I'm not mad at him for it. I ... did it by myself."

"And after that, that was when you changed your name?"

She nodded, ready to tell now. "I needed to be someone different. I don't know how else to explain it. I just ... I couldn't be ... that girl anymore. The Johnsons, the adoptive parents, they paid for my prenatal care and my hospital bill, but they also had the agency send me a monetary gift. Something to help me start over. I felt like I had a choice in that moment. To go back to the place I'd always called home. Back to my old friends, who were still wasting any potential they might have had by partying it away. Back to a father who never seemed to notice what was happening with my life. Or I could try and take the fresh start. In that moment, everything seemed ... new. For the first time, I felt like I could be anything. Do anything. I changed my name and figured out what I would have to do to get into college. Found the right people to help me forge the transcripts. And then I bought a plane ticket to Barcelona. And then I hit the ground running."

"And you've been running ever since."

She nodded. "I have been." She looked out at the sea, the white-capped waves rolling into the sh.o.r.e. "But I can't run from this."

"Neither can I. It's not in me. This is reality and we have to face it. But I'm certain we can make it work."

"I'm afraid that ... it's going to bring it all back. I've spent so many years trying to let go. And it's a process. Like I said, some days I'm thankful. I'm glad for the stable life I'm sure he's had. Glad he's been able to grow up in comfort. Glad I was able to ... to make something better of myself. But ..."

"Come here." He sat down at the base of one of the trees and leaned against the smooth bark.

Hannah moved to where he was and sat. There was s.p.a.ce between them; neither of them looked at each other. "Things are different now, Hannah. We can make this work. We'll do it together."

She put her hand on her stomach. "Can we?"

He put his hand over hers and a spark shot through her. "We will. We'll do it, because you're the strongest woman I've ever met. And I'm ... not as much as I used to be but ... But in some ways ..."

"In some ways better," she said. Thinking of the Eduardo he had been. The laughing, mocking man who had taken nothing seriously.

"Yes, that, too."

She s.h.i.+vered. "I'm afraid of s.c.r.e.w.i.n.g a kid up. Like my parents did to me."

"I don't blame you."

"But your parents love you. You know how it's supposed to be."

He nodded slowly. "Yes. My parents do love me. They, especially my father, were never overly demonstrative, but I always knew that he had my best interests at heart. He made sure we were all cared for. Provided for. He was the pillar of my family. Still, I plagued him. I married an American girl he didn't approve of."