It was weird—she’d held his hand a thousand times before, and yet right now this one simple gesture was making her jittery, as though her whole body had been put on alert and was awaiting the next eager move.
Which was stupid. Ridiculous. And highly inconvenient.
Dammit, that was what came with sleeping with your bestie. Because now she couldn’t stop the memories of those same hands roaming all over her body and doing things that had gotten her all hot and panting.
As they walked aft, she managed to surreptitiously slip her hand from his, avoiding his sideways glance by determinedly staring straight ahead.
God, she hated this awkwardness. They’d gone and done the unthinkable and ruined everything, and for a second, she felt that indescribable pain slice into her heart, leaving a deep and wounding scar in its wake. Things would never be the same again. It was like one of her disastrous relationships all over again, like everything her father had blurted out that one awful time in the heat of argument.
For God’s sake, Kat, can you just for once not be front-page news? Stop with all the attention and drama and just be a normal person?
The shame burned briefly as she recalled his expression, a bitter twist of anger and disappointment. Then her thoughts were interrupted by the familiar hum and throb of engines as they entered the cabin.
She stopped in her tracks. “Are you casting off?”
“Oui. We’re going to the island.”
She gaped. Annoyance quickly morphed into fury. “Are you out of your mind? No!” She strode outside but it was too late. Furious, she whirled, pinning him with dagger eyes. “I didn’t agree to this! And there’s a cyclone on its way, in case you haven’t noticed.” She threw an arm wide, indicating the dock rapidly disappearing. “The town’s in lockdown. And my car is at the marina.”
He crossed his arms and leaned back onto the rail, then absently pushed back a curl as the wind whipped his hair around his face. “First, my house on the island is designed to withstand weather extremes, cyclones included. It’s probably safer than most places on the mainland. Second, I’ll call someone to pick up your car. And third, the reports say the island will only catch the edge of it—the eye will hit Cairns after 3:00 a.m.”
“And by that time, we won’t be able to return for God knows how long. No. Go back, Marco.”
“No.”
She growled. “I hate it when you get pushy.”
His mouth quirked briefly but he said nothing. She continued to glare, putting all her anger into it, but he merely held her gaze calmly.
“You’ve been avoiding my calls,” he finally said.
With a frustrated growl she whirled, planting her hands wide apart on the railing. “Dammit, you can be sooooo annoying!”
“Says the woman who still hasn’t told me she’s pregnant.”
A moment passed, a moment in which Kat’s heart sped up, then slowed down again as she closed her eyes and dropped her gaze to the churning black water below. A moment in which those meager rehearsed words all crumbled to ashes in her mouth, and she was left with nothing but the sound of slapping water and rushing air.
“I’m going to kill Connor.”
Marco raised one dark eyebrow. “Don’t blame him. He thought I should know.”
Finally she straightened, crossed her arms and faced him. “Turn the boat around. It’s not safe to be out.”
“I checked with the coast guard. We’re fine for at least another hour, enough time to get to the island.” He shook his head. “And we have things to discuss.”
“There’s nothing to discuss.”
A dark scowl bloomed. “You’re kidding, right? You’re pregnant, Kat. It’s not just about you. It’s about me, too.”
She knew that. But the bubbling frustration inside forced the words from her mouth. “My body, my decision.”
He stilled, his expression a mix of shock and seriousness. “Are you saying you want an abortion?”
She blinked, shaking her head as her stomach pitched in time with the waves. “Marco, you know what I went through with my mother. She was dead within two years of diagnosis. I could be a carrier.”
He dragged a hand through his hair. “So get tested. I’ve been telling you that for years.”
“I did. Plus, I do not have one single mothering bone in my body. Babies hate me and—”
“Whoa, whoa, whoa. Back up.” He frowned and held up a hand. “You actually went and got tested?”
“Yes. Last week.”
“After all these years of ‘I don’t want to know’ and ‘I don’t want that hanging over my head, directing my choices in life’? All the times we argued when I tried to convince you otherwise?”
She nodded.
She’d shocked him, if his gaping expression was any indicator. “When were you going to tell me?” he finally bit out.
“I just did!” she snapped back, inwardly wincing at his thinly concealed hurt. “And speaking of not telling, what about you and Grace?”
“What about me and Grace?”
“So there is a you and Grace!”
He scowled, confused. “What the hell are you talking about?”
“You and her, having a baby together?”
From the look on his face, she’d stunned him. “Since when?”
“She told me you were back together.”
He sighed, hands going to his hips. “Well, it’s news to me. We’ve been over since before the Coup de France.”
“How long before?”
“Way before our night together, chérie,” he said softly.
She swallowed, refusing to allow herself a moment of remembrance. “So, you’re saying Grace is lying?”
He shrugged. “Wishful thinking?”
She snapped her mouth shut, taking a deep, steady breath before mumbling, “This is a bloody disaster.”
Was it her imagination, or did she see his mouth tighten? Then he sighed and dragged a hand through his hair and the moment was gone. “Kat, I can’t stop you from making the final decision about what you do. If it were me, I’d be having the baby, regardless of those test results. But it’s ultimately your choice.”
“Then it’s a good thing you’re not me,” she said quietly. “You weren’t there. You didn’t see what the disease did to my mother, every single day, for two years.
