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. I refuse to let that happen to my child.”
His soft murmur sounded more like a groan. “Kat…”
The boat went over another wave, and suddenly the day’s lunch didn’t seem so secure in her stomach. She swallowed thickly then took a deep breath before meeting his eyes.
“I’ll be here as much as you need me to be,” he said, his gaze soft. “You’re my best friend, chérie, and that’s what friends do.”
Friends. Her insides did another crazy swoop, just before the nausea surged again. This was no confession of love, no happily-ever-after, no I-can’t-live-without-you. This was Marco offering his friendship and support, just as he’d always done throughout the tragedies of her embarrassingly public private life.
She swallowed a weird swell of abject disappointment. “Marco.” She shook her head. “I don’t know…. I haven’t made any decision. Plus…” She took a breath. “I can’t—I won’t—have a baby just because you want it. And once this gets out—whatever my decision—there’s going to be a media frenzy. Your career is more important than front-page gossip.”
“Kat—”
“You know what the headlines were like last time. Do you honestly think I’d do that to you? I… Oh, God.” She clutched her stomach.
He grabbed her arm, his face creased with alarm. “What’s wrong? What—”
She turned to the railing but wasn’t quick enough. In the next second, she threw up all over the deck, right on top of Marco’s expensive Italian leather shoes.
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