And there was always the monstrous, overhanging shadow of their relationship: Sophia didn’t know the whole truth. She’d undoubtedly hate him if she learned what he’d done to her.
A baby could strengthen the bond between the two of you, an insidious voice whispered.
The more likely scenario—Sophia would leave him, ripping out his heart in the process, and take the baby too. It was that fear which had paralyzed him every time he thought about the future.
“You live too far away,” Barron said, shifting another vase of flowers. Somehow the news had gotten out, and congratulatory gifts had been arriving steadily for the past few hours. “I’d like to spend at least a month with you, but Kerri’s probably going to have her baby soon.” Kerri was his granddaughter.
“You can come back anytime you want. It’s not like you can’t fly back and forth.” Justin’s tone was anything but sympathetic.
Vanessa licked her lips. “I’m thirsty. Is there any more water?”
“Hmm… Looks like we’re out,” Mark said.
“I’ll get some,” Sophia said. “Be right back.”
“I’ll go with you,” Dane offered.
“I can carry a couple bottles of water. You stay here with Vanessa.” She squeezed his hand and slipped out quietly.
It was all Dane could do to not go after her. He didn’t want her out of his sight. He couldn’t help but think that if she did, he would lose her forever. Guilt and foreboding gnawed at him, from a place deep in his gut.
He’d always thought lies hurt the people who were lied to. He’d never realized until now how they could hurt the ones who’d lied themselves.
* * *
Sophia walked toward the vending machines at the end of the hall, her step light. Maybe this was why people called it the miracle of birth. The baby was so gorgeous. And the way Dane had looked at his nephew… Her heart pounded. She’d seen the sudden longing on his face, and she knew he wanted one too.
As the vending machine dropped the bottles of water, she fantasized briefly about the kind of child she and Dane could have together. Maybe the child would have Dane’s determination, and his big generous heart, and maybe her artistic expressiveness…
She grabbed the water and headed back toward Vanessa’s room, shaking her head at her own silliness. They might be living together at the moment, but they hadn’t discussed anything concrete about their future. Talk about putting the cart before the hor—
She bumped into someone as she turned the corner. “Sorry.” She glanced at the man’s face and felt a surge of horror run up her spine.
George.
He seemed to have recovered from getting his head bashed with a lamp. His gaze was sharp, his complexion healthy. He wore a dark suit; a burgundy tie with golden diamond accents looked like a streak of old blood on his white shirt. There was a bouquet of yellow chrysanthemums in his hand.
She’d gone over a lot of scenarios involving what she’d do if she ever ran into him, but having it happen in a hospital after Vanessa had just delivered a baby boy wasn’t one. Her brain seemed to turn into thick slush; everything went into slow motion.
“Hello, Sophia.” His whisper crawled over her skin like a spider. He glanced around, then gripped her wrist hard enough to grind the bones together.
She dropped the bottles as her fingers went slack from the pain. She scratched his hand, but it only pissed him off. “Bitch!” he hissed and shook her.
Before she could draw in a breath to scream, he yanked her into a dark, empty patient room. He threw the flowers on the bed and shoved her toward it. She stumbled and crashed against the frame, her hip hurting from the impact.
Immediately he was upon her. He twisted her around so she was jack-knifed over the edge of the bed, face pressed down in the yellow blossoms. He pulled her arms behind her, his big hand crushed her small wrists together. His body trapped hers, and the smell of the flowers was suddenly overwhelming.
He dug his free hand into her hair, pulling at it painfully. “If you make a sound, I’ll shove your face into the mattress until you suffocate,” he spat. “I’m not making the same mistake twice.”
A shudder ran through her, and she bit her lower lip, determined to master herself. Showing weakness would only embolden someone like him.
“Let me go,” she said in a low voice. “You know I’m not going to say anything.”
“I do?”
“For Libby’s sake.”
He leaned until his chest was flat against her back. “I’m doing this for her sake too,” he whispered.
Nausea swept through Sophia as his breath brushed against her ear. The smell of old coffee and doughnuts mingled with the chrysanthemums.