Pregnant by Morning(49)

Matt shut his eyes. “You’ve had a little more time to process than me. Give me a minute. Can I get you a drink? Crackers?” He shoved both hands behind his neck, like he was trying to hold his head in place. “I don’t even know what to do for a pregnant woman. Be right back.”

She watched him flee, breath rattling in her throat, cutting off all her oxygen as she reevaluated his reaction. It never occurred to her that he wouldn’t welcome the news. He’d always wanted a family, hadn’t he?

Well, he’d said he needed a minute. She had no choice but to give it to him. When he came back, he’d be ready to talk about the future, and then they could make plans to go to Monte Carlo.

Everything was going to be great.

* * *

Matthew escaped to the kitchen, formerly his haven. The place where he went to create, feel productive.

Hands spread wide, he leaned on the counter, head down. There still didn’t seem to be any blood circulating in his brain. The walls were too close together and the gap between them narrowed.

Pregnant.

Evangeline was pregnant.

He wasn’t ready to think about being with Evangeline forever, wasn’t prepared to examine why they still gelled when they shouldn’t. Couldn’t get past the fear that suddenly not one, but two people could easily become the center of his existence. Only to be ripped away.

This was his reward for flagrantly disregarding the rules and living in the moment with no thought to consequences. This was what running away from life had gotten him.

Automatically, he filled a glass full of water and downed it without coming up for air once.

From here on out, he’d have to do the right thing. Ironically, if he’d been doing the right thing all along, this never would have happened. But he was a Wheeler, first and foremost, and it was far past time to start acting like one.

What was he going to do? Evangeline would never fit into his life in Dallas. But she had to. Because he had to. Neither of them had a choice any longer.

Something rushed through his heart. Relief. They didn’t have a choice but to make it work, whether he was ready to think about forever or not. Forever had started the moment she spoke to him in Vincenzo’s hall. Venice was over, but they could still be together.

He returned to the living room, calm and in control. He hoped.

He sat on the couch next to Evangeline. “I’m sorry. I’m one hundred percent here now.”

But minus a drink for her. Maybe he was more like ninety percent here.

“I’m glad.” Her eyes were enormous and shiny. Red. She’d been crying and it wrenched his heart. No matter what he was going through, it hardly compared to an emotional and physical wallop, like what had happened to her.

Stop thinking about yourself, Wheeler.

“Hey,” he said softly and took her hand. “It’s going to be okay. Did I make you cry? I didn’t mean to.”

She shook her head. “I’m all emotional. From hormones, I guess. I’ve never been pregnant before.”

“It’ll be fine. I’ll be here for you. Take you to the doctor and—” he swallowed against the sudden burn in his throat “—be in the delivery room to cut the umbilical cord.”

All things he’d looked forward to doing with Amber. Seeing his wife rounded with their child. Lacing fingers as they watched the image in the sonogram. Never had he imagined it happening with someone else, and never would he have anticipated the spike of unadulterated elation at the thought of doing it with Evangeline.

Ruthlessly, he shut off the emotions careening through his chest. Becoming emotional would not help this situation.

“So we’re going to be together?” she asked tentatively, and her grip on his hand tightened. “You want to be a part of the baby’s life?”

The baby’s life. He shook his head, to clear it, to whack something loose that made sense. How would anything make sense ever again?

There was so much more to consider than the pregnancy. The next eight months were only the beginning. He and Evangeline were going to be parents, of a kid who would eventually walk and talk and learn to ride a bike.

A baby. He was going to be a dad. Panic nearly blinded him—but the clearest sense of awe fought its way to the forefront.

“We’ll raise it together. Of course we will.”

The baby would be a Wheeler, entitled to everything Matthew could and would provide. The circumstances weren’t ideal, and this curveball certainly jerked him back to reality.

Venice was definitely over. They needed to make plans, decisions. Find a place to live. Insurance. A car with a baby seat. His head spun. He didn’t own a car anymore.

Evangeline gave him a watery smile. She was so thrilled, and he hated to squelch her enthusiasm, but they both needed to get real, really fast. Their relationship was now permanent. Two people who had almost nothing in common other than enormously painful events in their pasts were going to be parents.