Otherworld Chills

BABY BOOM

“See that stroller over there?” I pointed to an elegant one being pushed along the busy Miami street. “It has the best suspension on the market.”

“That’s important, I take it,” Lucas said.

“According to every saleslady we encountered, it is. I am now officially an expert in baby strollers, having spent the entire day being schooled.”

“And what was Savannah’s role in this outing?”

“Throwing up her hands after the first sales pitch and asking me to handle it. Because ‘But, Paige, you’re so much better at these things.’ Plus, she’s got baby brain and can’t be expected to make any critical decisions.”

“Baby brain? I haven’t heard that one.”

“Oh, you’re going to. For the next five months you’re going to, and if she can, she’ll stretch the excuse of aftereffects until the poor kid’s twenty-one.”

Lucas shook his head and opened the restaurant door for me. Yes, Savannah was pregnant. Four months along, which meant she was still fine for joining us on this trip to Miami, especially when Benicio had promised her and Adam a five-thousand-dollar shopping spree as a baby-announcement gift.

“So you had fun?” Lucas asked as the hostess led us to our table.

I rolled my eyes, and his lips curved in a hint of a smile as he said, “The next time, I’ll go with you and endure the sales pitches.”

“Do that for me and I will thank you in every possible way. Once the baby comes, I’ll love it to death. But this part?” I shuddered. “I would rather shop for a new car than a stroller. I swear, they come with fewer options. By lunchtime I’d actually started looking forward to dinner with your dad.”

We found Benicio already seated at the back of the restaurant. We were five minutes early—he just always made a point of being there first for Lucas, which was, of course, a point in itself. You are special, Lucas. You have my undivided attention. With every year that passed, every step closer Benicio came to retirement, that message grew louder.

You are my heir. You will inherit the Cortez Cabal.

Which was the last thing Lucas ever wanted. Yet if he didn’t accept the role, it went to his only remaining brother. Carlos was as inept as he was cruel, and for a corporation employing hundreds of supernaturals, I’m not sure which of those attributes was more dangerous.

Dinner with Benicio was never easy, but at least I could be guaranteed two hours without hearing the word “baby.”

Lucas pulled out my chair.

“Carlos’s wife is having a baby boy,” Benicio said.

I bit back a laugh.

“She had the ultrasound today,” Benicio continued. “It’s a boy.”

“Excellent,” Lucas said. “And I believe I know just the person to gift them with the perfect stroller.” He opened his menu. “Also, Carlos’s wife’s name is Annette. You really ought to remember it, Papá.”

“I’m not sure Carlos can remember it. I’m still convinced his best man had to prompt him at the wedding vows.”

There actually had been an awkward pause at that moment in the service. A few years ago, Carlos had been the very model of a rich playboy—too many women, too much booze, too little responsibility. In the six years since his brothers’ deaths, he’d cleaned up his act, preparing to take center stage as heir-elect. Part of that included finding the perfect wife. Model thin and beautiful but lacking self-confidence. Young but not idealistic. Bright but not well educated. Hispanic, from a long and proud lineage going back to Spain. And human. In other words, everything I was not. But I’m okay with that. Benicio remembers my name.

“So it’s a boy,” I said. “But unless Annette is secretly a witch, that was guaranteed.”

“There’s always the chance of a genetic mishap.”

I arched my brows. “Girls are genetic mishaps?”

“For a sorcerer they are, as a son would be for a witch. But she is pregnant with a healthy baby boy, which will help his case as heir. There is only one way you and Lucas can fight that.”

Lucas’s fingers tightened almost imperceptibly on his menu. “You need to have a baby,” Benicio said.

Silence. One moment of absolute silence. Then the slap of Lucas’s menu hitting the table.

I thought Benicio was joking. A poor joke, but a joke nonetheless. Benicio knew we’d decided long ago not to have children. He’d learned to swallow that disapproval or risk torpedoing an already rocky relationship with his youngest son. But when Lucas smacked the menu down, Benicio flinched, and I knew this was no joke.

Lucas pushed his chair back an inch and looked at me. He wanted to go, but he’d never storm out, leaving me to run after him. I rose, and we walked through the restaurant, his hand wrapped tightly around mine.

Outside the front doors, I said, “You knew he was going to suggest that, didn’t you? He’s brought it up before.”

“After he learned Annette was pregnant, he broached the subject with me. I had hoped that the intensity of my response would discourage any future revivals.”

“Ah.”

“In fact, I made it very clear that resurrecting that topic—”

“Paige? Lucas?” Benicio said behind us, his shoes slapping the sidewalk.

Lucas kept walking, his voice low as he said, “The answer is no, we will not discuss it. As for the question itself, I will not even dignify that with an answer. You know it. You have always known it. Not having children is our choice, and it is our right to make that choice. It isn’t a medical issue. It isn’t something we have tabled for future discussion.”

“I’m thirty-four,” I said. “Passing the age where it can be a future discussion.”

“But not past it yet,” Benicio said. “Not for a few years. The fact that neither of you has taken steps to permanently prevent the possibility suggests it isn’t an absolute decision.”

“That would be personal and private medical information,” Lucas said, his voice ice-cold. “I suppose I should not be surprised you accessed it, Father. Whether we have made our decision a medically permanent one is absolutely none of your business. What counts is what we are saying. What we have always said. That we choose not to have children.”

“Because there’s too much else going on in your lives. You don’t want to bring a child into that. But no one expects Paige to give up her career for a baby. I can ensure she has the best possible child care.”

“Right,” I said. “Because our dream is to have a child … and then watch her be raised by nannies. The only point to that would be if we were so narcissistic we had to reproduce, whatever the cost.”

“I’m saying I could help you make this happen at absolutely no inconvenience to either of you.”

“Inconven—?”

“With Annette’s pregnancy, we’re losing the board. They want to support Lucas. If you were pregnant, that would decide the matter, and they would recognize the sacrifice you’ve made.”

“Sacri—? Are we still talking about having a child here?”

“I’m wording it poorly. I apologize for offending—”

Lucas cut in. “There is no possibility of phrasing this suggestion in a way that is not unrelentingly offensive. You are asking us to have a child to secure the future of a corporation. You are asking my wife to lend her body to the cause. To bear a child as a political gambit.”

“I’ve upset you—”

“Me? No, Father. My role in this is significant, but it pales in comparison to my wife’s. To a child’s. To use them to secure a lineage is beyond appalling.”

“Tell that to every monarchy in the world.”

“Then perhaps it is indeed a sign of progress that our country broke away from that tradition centuries ago. And whatever we might think of that tradition, it is about nationhood. This is about a company.”

“Which employs—”

“Spare me the statistics, Father. I recite them to myself every time I cannot believe I’ve taken a role in the Cabal. And now, with this suggestion, I suspect I’ll spend the rest of the night quoting those statistics to myself and mentally crunching the numbers, deciding yet again if it’s worth it.”

Lucas took a quick breath and finished with, “Paige and I are going back to our condo. As much as I would love to fly from the city tonight, we have work to do here and our commitment is to that work. But I would strongly suggest that we don’t have any more reason to speak this week, or I may rethink that commitment. Good night, Father.”

We did not discuss what happened on the drive back to the condo. What would we say? Endless variations on “Can you believe he said that?”

The truth was that I could believe it. I was even willing to cut Benicio a little slack in this. Yes, the idea of donating my reproductive system to his business interests was absolutely heinous. But I understood he wasn’t thinking of it that way. He believed Lucas and I must secretly want a child. Which is a bit of a head-scratcher, given how his own experience with fatherhood worked out. Three sons born in wedlock, all of whom saw Benicio only as the obstacle between them and unlimited power as CEO of the Cortez Cabal. Then there was Lucas. The so-called bastard son whom Benicio adored. The one who had the most difficult relationship with him. And yet the one who also had the best relationship. Lucas was Cordelia to Benicio’s Lear, the youngest child and the only one who truly did love him.

If I had to speculate, I think Benicio saw in us something he never truly had a chance at—the opportunity to bear a child in love and raise it in love. It was also one last chance for him to be a real grandfather, his dead sons having kept their own boys away from him as punishment for not being named heir, with Carlos already threatening to do the same. In Benicio’s relationship with Savannah, I see that yearning, and I felt bad that we couldn’t fill it for him. But we can’t.

It was more than having busy lives. Any child we brought into this world would arrive with a target on her back. Even Savannah, a disavowed child of the Nast Cabal, joked about how often she’d been kidnapped when she was young.

Then there was Savannah herself. She was our child in so many ways. As much as we loved her, there’d been a soft sigh of relief when she finally moved out and we had the house to ourselves. When it came to parenting, we’d been there, done that, and it might sound selfish, but I was okay with finally having my husband all to myself.

I understood, then, that Benicio didn’t realize he was trying to co-opt my body for his own purposes. To him, this made logical sense, giving us an excuse to satisfy a presumed longing while helping save the company from Carlos and his cohorts. Win-win.

I would tell Lucas that. But not tonight. My husband so rarely lost his temper that I wasn’t going to negate his right to be angry over this. Instead, I’d try to take his mind off it, which I did, until both of us fell asleep, too exhausted to fume over Benicio.

“You look like shit this morning,” Savannah said when I met her the next morning.

“Thank you. Thank you so much.” I collapsed into a coffee shop chair. “And I’d love to say the same back, except it would be a lie. I’ve always thought that saying about pregnant women glowing was a total lie. Apparently not. Bitch.”

Savannah choked on a laugh, but she grinned, too. While she’d been living with us, it’d been hard for me to get past the guardian–ward relationship. We’d always been more like sisters, but it had definitely been an “older sister” vibe. Now we’ve finally achieved that elusive status of true friendship. The fact that I was okay with calling Savannah a bitch delighted her. Or maybe it was just hearing me say the word.

I caught a whiff of her drink, and my stomach, already unsettled, roiled. “What is that?” I said, pointing.

“A decaf cappuccino. Yes, I know it still has some caffeine, but Hope says having one when I need it is fine, and my doctor agrees. Right now, it’s the only thing that will get me through another day of shopping.”

“The milk’s turned. Go ask them for another one.”

“Um, it’s fine, Paige.” She pushed it over. “Smell.”

I took a deep whiff and was out of my chair and on the way to the restroom in two seconds flat. Five seconds after barreling through the door, I was bent over a toilet, vomiting up what little I’d managed to eat at breakfast.

“Paige?” Savannah said outside the stall. “Are you throwing up?”

A wave of gagging inelegantly answered for me.

“You weren’t feeling well yesterday morning, either,” she said. “Are you sick?”

“I wouldn’t come near you if I thought I had the flu.”

“I know that. But you don’t get sick. Ever.”

“It’s food poisoning. Revenge of the cheap sushi from the other night.”

Silence answered, and I wondered if the smell of the vomit had her racing out before she threw up. But when I exited the stall, heading straight for the sink, she was there, her face drawn with worry.

“Food poisoning doesn’t come and go like that,” she said. “Believe me, Adam and I have eaten our share of bad-decision street food.”

“Well, then, maybe it’s sympathetic morning sickness.”

“I don’t have morning sickness.”

“Bitch.”

She didn’t grin this time. Didn’t even smile.

“You really don’t look good, Paige. I figured it was just a late night with Lucas. Otherwise, I wouldn’t have teased you about it. But you look …”

“Like shit?”

“Exhausted. That’s not normal. You can get two hours’ sleep and you’re little miss sunshine, raring to go.”

I finished rinsing out my mouth. Then I took my toothbrush and toothpaste from my purse. When Savannah didn’t rib me for carrying a toothbrush and toothpaste, I knew her concern was serious.

“Maybe I have caught something,” I said. “If so, I shouldn’t be around you. Let me call Adam. He’ll jump at the chance to reschedule his meeting. He might like doing research, but that doesn’t mean he likes hanging out with other researchers.”

I smiled, expecting her to roll her eyes and make some comment. She only watched me as I brushed my teeth.

“Is there any chance …?” She patted her stomach and then pointed at me.

I choked on my mouthful of minty water. “Absolutely not.”

“No form of birth control is one hundred percent. You gave me that talk, complete with statistics I can still recite.”

“I’m on long-term birth control. As close to foolproof as possible. So no, pregnancy is not the answer.”

“Have you had a period since Seattle?”

I capped my toothpaste. “What?”

“You had to do an emergency drugstore run when we were investigating in Seattle. I remember it because I joked about getting nine months of freedom from that particular joy.”

“Right, then. It was Seattle, which was last month.”

“Six weeks ago.”

“Then I’m a couple of weeks overdue. It’s happened before. As you love to point out, I have hit middle age.”

“You’re at least a decade from menopause, Paige.”

“I’m not pregnant. It isn’t possible.”

“Why?”

Because just twelve hours ago Benicio was telling us we need to have a baby. Waking up the very next morning to discover I’m pregnant is too coincidental to even consider.

A woman with two toddlers walked in, the kids shrieking and giggling, the mother looking harried but happy. She admonished them to make sure they wiped up. Then she spotted us and offered a wry smile and an apology as she bustled past.

I’ve seen other women watch little ones with the hunger of unsatisfied maternal yearning. Even Savannah, who hadn’t planned to get pregnant until she was older, had begun watching babies with that look in her eye, until Adam finally asked if there was any particular reason she wanted to wait.

I’ve also seen women watch little ones and shudder, unable to imagine the horror of that life. I’ve never felt either emotion. I see little ones and I smile, the same way I would at a puppy. I love puppies. Never had one. Never considered getting one. Just because you think something is wonderful doesn’t mean you want it for yourself.

“Paige?”

I took out my cell phone and waved her from the bathroom, saying, “I’m calling Adam to come shop with you. Then I’ll go see the doctor and make sure whatever I have isn’t contagious.”

She plucked the phone from my hand. When I tried to snatch it back, she just held it out of my reach, a strategy she’s been able to employ almost from the day I took custody of her.

“Let’s pop by a drugstore first,” she said.

“I’m not preg—”

“You’re going to the doctor while you’re here, right?”

“I only go to the Cabal doctor for my annual physical.” And apparently, given what Benicio said last night, even that was a mistake.

“I mean that you’re going to a doctor and telling her you’ve been sick for two mornings in a row. You’re thirty-four. Happily married. And your period is two weeks late. The first thing she’ll do is give you a pregnancy test. So maybe you just might want to get that out of the way, in private, beforehand.”

She had a point. I knew I wasn’t pregnant. The coincidence alone almost made me suspect this morning’s nausea was psychosomatic. But I’d rather walk in with my negative test strip and say, “I threw up this morning and this isn’t the answer.” The pharmacy it was, then.

An hour later, I was standing in our condo bathroom, staring at the double blue line on a white strip.

“Paige?” Savannah rapped at the door.

“Hold on.”

“Unless it takes you ten minutes to pee, I’ve been waiting long enough.”

“It didn’t work. I have to try again.”

She sighed and slumped at the door, like she used to when she was a teen and suspected I’d retreated to the bathroom to avoid a fight I didn’t care to continue.

I took out a second box—a different brand—pulled out the kit, and started over.

Another ten minutes later, I was sitting on my bed with Savannah, both of us staring at two strips, bearing identical results.

“I’m calling Lucas,” she said.

I reached for her arm. “No, he’s in a meeting. This isn’t …”

I was about to say it wasn’t important. But it was, wasn’t it? So incredibly important. And yet …

If we’d been trying for a baby, like Savannah and Adam, I wouldn’t have made that call. I’d have sped to him, and stood outside that meeting door, eagerly waiting. That was how it should be.

I felt the pain of that, the loss of that, the realization this was an experience I’d never know, the joy of running to my husband and throwing my arms around his neck and screaming, “We’re having a baby!”

This would be a very different conversation.

“I know it’s not urgent,” Savannah said. “But you need him. Now. If you can’t call, I will.”

I kept hold of her arm. “Not yet. I … I need to see Dr. Mendez. This must be a mistake.”

“Two positive tests plus morning sickness plus a late period. It’s not a mistake. I know this isn’t the answer you want, Paige, but you’re the one who’s all about the proof. This is the proof.”

I took a deep breath. Then I told her what Benicio said last night. When I finished, she said, “God, he can be such a shit-heel. I’d say I can’t believe he’d suggest that, but I can totally believe it. And then …” She trailed off and looked at me. “Wait a second. Right after you refuse, you find out you’re pregnant? That’s way too coincidental.”

“Exactly. If I knew of a spell that caused pregnancy, I’d be thinking he was guilty of more than suggesting it.”

“But there’s not. There’s magic to help get pregnant, like your mother used, but there’s nothing …”

She trailed off again, gaze going distant as her hand rested on the bump of her stomach. I’d noticed her doing that lately, resting her hand there. I had no doubt Savannah was ready for motherhood. She’d never been the most mature young woman, but she wanted this and would be mature for her baby. Now, seeing her instinctively connecting with her unborn child, I felt a pang of grief for that, too, that I had a child in my womb and didn’t feel that way, feared I never could.

I blinked back tears and said, “If that look means you’re wondering whether there is a spell, there’s not. Pregnancy still requires a sperm and an egg.”

“Oh, I’m sure there’s plenty of that going on. Probably even more than when I lived at home, when you guys napped so often I worried you were suffering from chronic fatigue syndrome.”

“Yes, but there’s no magic that can get me pregnant. A seventeenth-century spell can’t counteract modern birth control. Which is why I need to see the doctor who prescribed me that birth control.”

I’d been at Dr. Mendez’s office for hours. It began with a pregnancy test and other samples, all sent to her in-house lab. Supernaturals have enough anomalies in our blood that she needs a dedicated lab, also staffed by supernaturals. Yet even putting aside everything else, processing my test took time. Savannah stayed, no matter how often I insisted she didn’t need to.

Finally, Dr. Mendez called me back in for the results.

“I’m sorry, Paige, but yes, you are definitely pregnant.”

I managed a wan smile. “Not the usual way you need to give that news, I bet.”

She took a seat. “Actually, if patients get their results from me instead of the drugstore, it’s usually because they’re praying that drugstore test is wrong. It rarely is. In your case, I had to check because of your contraceptive implant. The chance of it failing is so incredibly low, even I thought there must be a mistake.”

“So I’m the lucky one-in-ten-thousand chance of failure?”

She shifted in her seat. “Actually, no. You were as likely to get pregnant as any other sexually active, thirty-four-year-old woman.”

“What?”

“There’s no trace of the birth control in your system.”

I shook my head sharply. “That can’t be. The implant has been in for five months, and I can’t be more than six weeks pregnant. That means it was working.”

“No, it wasn’t. You’d have had residual protection for a while. After that? Well, you are thirty-four. Pregnancy isn’t going to happen overnight.”

“But … you’re telling me … the implant …”

“Isn’t working. At all. I’m going to remove and analyze it, because I have no idea how this could have happened, and you can certainly sue the manufacturer, but I know that’s the least of your concerns right now.”

“Have there been other reports of it failing? Is there some way to check now?”

“I did while you were waiting. There’s nothing. Somehow, you received a birth control implant that was, for all intents and purposes, nothing more than a placebo.”

I texted Lucas as I left the doctor’s office. As much as I hated to interfere with his day of meetings, Savannah was right—I needed him. In possibly the only thing that went right that day, he’d not only finished early but was waiting at home.

Savannah dropped me at the condo door. Before I went in, she said, “I won’t tell Adam if you’d rather I didn’t. Whatever you decide, that’s no one else’s business.”

I nodded.

“And whatever you decide?” She caught my hand as I climbed out. “It’s not my business, either, but I’m behind it. I’m behind you, Paige. One hundred percent. Always.”

I stopped then and leaned across the seat to give her a hug, a tight one, my face pressed against her hair so she wouldn’t see my eyes welling up.

I walked into the condo smelling tea. Not just tea, but my favorite blend, one I had to order because I could never quite duplicate it. I was long out of it, too—it’d been on back order for months.

When I walked into the living room, Lucas was there, pouring tea into a china cup. On the end table was a two-tiered tray of English tea pastries and sandwiches. And where we’d once had an ordinary love seat, there now stood one with dual recliners.

When he caught me staring at the love seat, he said, “That is the one you wanted, isn’t it?”

“It’s exactly the one I wanted. The one I’ve been searching for. But where …” My gaze went to the tea. “And also where …?”

“Connections,” he said. “Quite possibly the only advantage to being a Cortez.”

I looked from the love seat to the tea to the pastries, and I managed to say, “Savannah called you.”

“Hmm?”

“Savannah called you. To say I wasn’t having …” I faltered. “Wasn’t having a good day.”

A wry smile. “She didn’t. No one needed to tell me that. After that dinner with my father and a day of shopping, I decided you could use …”

He waved at the tableau, and my tears welled again, this time threatening to burst into full waterworks. Lucas hurried over, bumping into the table hard enough to bruise, and saying, “What’s wrong?”

“We … we need to talk.”

“Savannah. Is she all right? The baby …”

“The baby’s fine. Every—everyone’s fine.” I stumbled over that last bit, but it was true. There was nothing wrong with me. Just nature, taking its course by leading me off course.

I led him to the new love seat. We sat, and I opened my mouth to say I’m pregnant, but the words wouldn’t come. This wasn’t a joyful announcement. Yet neither could I clutch his hand and make a mournful pronouncement.

Instead, I said, “My birth control hasn’t been working.”

“Your …?”

“The implant. It’s defective. Has been since Dr. Mendez put it in.”

“Someone sabotaged your birth control.”

I hadn’t said that. Hadn’t even suggested that to the doctor. It seemed too outrageous an accusation. But of course it was exactly what I’d been thinking when the doctor told me the news.

“That’s one possibility,” I said.

“It’s almost certainly the only one, given the otherwise unbelievable coincidence of timing. My father wasn’t asking us to reconsider; he was planting the seed in hopes we’d agree, so that, when it happened, we’d accept it as a happy accident.” He shook his head. “After all he’s done, how can I still be surprised every time?”

“Because you want better. You know he’s capable of better. And you hate being disappointed.”

Lucas put his arm around my shoulders and tugged me against him. “I’m only glad you had the forethought to visit Dr. Mendez. I wouldn’t have considered checking.”

“I … I didn’t go to her for that. I …” Deep breath. “I’ve been sick the last couple of mornings and my period is late, which I hadn’t realized, being so busy. Savannah insisted … She insisted I check …”

He twisted to look at me. “You’re …?”

I nodded. Silence fell. One long moment of silence.

No matter how strong our marriage is, there are things I don’t know, can’t even guess, fear trying to guess. Things like this. We’d agreed to not have children, but I could never really be sure if his conviction exactly matched my own. Was he more open to the possibility, just not so open to it that he’d try changing my mind? Or was he even more opposed, and this really would come as the worst possible news?

Silence. Then he said, “How are you doing?” and my eyes really did fill with tears then, as I saw in his face exactly what I felt, that this wasn’t secretly joyous news but neither was it a dire pronouncement. When the tears welled, he pulled me against him, and I let them fall before I said, “I think I’m still in shock. I tested twice. Two different kits from two manufacturers. I just couldn’t believe … still can’t believe …”

“How do you feel?” he asked as I pulled away.

“Too numb to process anything else.”

He shifted to face me. “Whatever you decide, I support it.”

I shook my head. “It isn’t just about me.”

He went quiet for a moment, and then said, “Obviously, it impacts me, but you are the one who would endure a pregnancy and undertake any risks. I don’t feel strongly one way or another. I never have. The obvious choice was not to attempt to have children—one should care. But if the choice is to continue or end a pregnancy, I will accommodate either way.”

“‘Accommodate’ isn’t really the word we’re looking for here.”

A brief smile. “It isn’t, is it? For once I seem unable to find the right one. The most suitably neutral one. It is neutral to me. What you have here”—he pressed his hand to my stomach—“is a collection of cells that could become a child. We know enough about the afterlife to know we are discussing the fate of cells, not a soul. That isn’t how it works.”

“And you don’t lean either way? At all?”

Another moment of quiet. “I don’t know. I’d need time to consider more. Even then, it would be only a slight preference and not strong enough to influence your decision, should you already know what you want.”

“I don’t.”

“Then let me suggest that there is no hurry to make that decision. It is a rather large one.”

“It is.” I looked up at him. “How are you doing?”

“More concerned for you at the moment. As for how this may have come to be, I’m going to postpone thinking about that for a while. This doesn’t seem quite the time to lose my temper. It does, however, seem like a fine time for tea. Or a hot bath.”

“For two?”

His lips quirked. “The tea?”

“Sure, that, too.”

I picked up both cups and headed for the stairs. Lucas brought the pastry tray as he followed.

We had a bath. Not overly hot—I remembered Adam lamenting that they’d bought a backyard hot tub for their new place and now couldn’t use it while Savannah was pregnant. Well, he could, but he wouldn’t, just like he wasn’t drinking coffee or alcohol for nine months, and part of that was pure partner support … but part was, I knew, self-preservation, because enjoying a nice cold beer in front of Savannah might land him on the couch for the duration of the pregnancy.

So I made the bath lukewarm, and I didn’t say why. Nor did I say why I didn’t drink the rest of my tea, after remembering it had a caffeine base. I had to proceed as if I was carrying this pregnancy to term, just in case.

We enjoyed the bath. We drank some tea. We ate the biscuits and sandwiches. We made love. Then we sprawled on the bed, naked, and talked. Talked about the presumed sabotage as if it was an investigation for a client. That was how we had to handle it. If someone presented us with this case, how would we proceed?

Discuss the possibilities. Lay them out. Consider each one and how we might prove or disprove it. Come up with a plan of investigation. What evidence did we need to gather? Whom did we need to speak to? Where might we need to go? What might we need to do? Should we bring in Savannah and Adam?

Yes, we discussed that last one. They were investigators at our firm. And they were also that blend of family and friend that makes them closer than either.

We even began a case file. Lucas loves his lists and his files and his notes. I could say that’s all him, but before we started the firm, I designed Web sites and software, so I’m nearly as much of a project-management geek. We wrote stuff down. Made those lists. Devised a course of action.

We’d had plans that evening for a late dinner with board members loyal to Benicio. Lucas canceled them quietly, only telling me when it was too late to un-cancel. We both hated those dinners, but we knew how important they were.

I think the fact they were important was the worst part. Lucas had spent his life refusing to be his father’s heir. Now, he needed not only to accept that mantle but fight for it. That went against everything in his soul … everything except the reason he would fight: to provide a decent working environment for supernaturals. He knew a corporation that fully embraced his principles and ethics would see a sharp drop in profits, and the shareholders would overthrow him in a heartbeat. But he did dream of inching toward better, and he’d already fixed some of the Cabal’s worst practices, by showing more efficient alternatives.

The problem was that, if Lucas lost the support of the board, the Cabal wouldn’t just maintain the status quo. Under Carlos and his supporters, it would begin the downward spiral, where profit ruled and ethics were something you laughed about over your quarterly statements.

We’d already seen that happen with the Nasts. On the death of the CEO, the Cabal split between two successors. One half was run by Sean Nast, the true heir and Savannah’s half-brother. Sean was no idealist, but he was a good man, a principled man, and he had implemented improvements. He believed in the greater good. His uncle Josef did not. Like Carlos, Josef Nast believed in profit at any cost. Unlike Carlos, Josef was actually an excellent businessman. The result? Sean was doing fine, but his less committed employees were being lured away as Josef’s half flourished. The Cortez board saw that. Which meant we had to reschedule dinner and keep all our other social appointments, however difficult they would be right now.

The next day, Lucas had a breakfast meeting, which was fine, considering I was in no shape to start investigating that early. When Savannah got pregnant, I’d gone into research mode, which meant, ironically, I now knew all the morning sickness treatments she’d never needed. Crackers and chamomile tea still set my stomach lurching, but I managed to do a decent-enough acting job to convince Lucas I was “much better than yesterday,” though he still lingered until Savannah showed up.

The moment he was gone, I was in the bathroom, throwing up those crackers and tea. Clearly, more research was needed. Also, more mouthwash.

I’d talked to Savannah last night about telling Adam. She had, and I’d barely finished conversing with the toilet before he was on the phone, wanting to talk. I got as far as “Later, okay?” before I was back in the bathroom.

It was a fun morning. Eventually, though, my stomach calmed down—or emptied—enough for me to get some work done, which helped distract me. Lucas showed up at ten-thirty with ginger tablets and matzo ball soup and everything else he’d apparently found in his own research.

“How long before she began vomiting?” he asked Savannah.

“I think you were still in the driveway.”

He turned to me. “I’ve rescheduled my morning tomorrow. I don’t like you going through that alone.”

“Um, hello?” Savannah said.

“I appreciate you coming over, Savannah, but bedside manner is not your strong suit.”

“It’s toilet-side manner that counts here, and mine is just fine.” She looked at me. “Would you rather have Lucas standing behind you, freaking out because he can’t help? Or have me chilling in the living room while he gets some work done at the office?”

“Option B.” I looked at Lucas. “Sorry, but she’s right. Work tomorrow morning and then join me once I’m feeling well enough to continue investigating the case of ‘who got Paige knocked up.’”

“That’s a mystery that doesn’t need solving,” Savannah said. “With most people, I’d say it’s ninety-nine-percent obvious who’s the culprit. With you, I’ll go all out and say there is absolutely no doubt.” She pointed at Lucas. “Him.”

“You know what I meant.”

“I’m not sure how much of a mystery that one is, either. Benicio’s fingerprints are all over this. The biggest question will be what we do about it. I know he didn’t think through the implications, but causing you to get pregnant against your will?”

“It’s unforgivable,” Lucas said.

Savannah and I exchanged a look. If it was unforgivable, what did that mean for all of us?

“This is why we’re investigating,” I said. “To definitively answer the question, rather than pointing fingers. I think I’m ready to tackle that soup. Then we’ll get to work.”

Our first stop was Dr. Mendez. Lucas questioned her. In Miami, it was his name that carried weight, even among supernaturals who avoided contact with the Cabal. Or especially among those avoiding contact.

According to Dr. Mendez, my implant was the correct device, but completely empty, without even a trace of chemicals. She had reconfirmed there were no other reports of problems.

Lucas said, “I’m going to need to ask for a full accounting of your supply and storage procedures, as well as access to the facilities and employees who, in turn, have access to these devices.”

“If you’re planning to sue the manufacturer—”

“I have no interest in suing anyone. If it is indeed a manufacturer defect, they will answer for that. However, I strongly suspect it was not.”

“You think someone tampered with the implants?”

“I think someone tampered with Paige’s.”

She hesitated. “That seems …”

“Unlikely? You know who I am. You cannot be unaware of the succession drama. Carlos has married. His wife is pregnant. Paige and I have chosen not to have children. We have been urged—strongly—to reconsider that. Now she is pregnant, the fault lying with a defective device implanted—here in Miami—shortly after my brother announced his wife’s pregnancy.” He met her gaze. “Please tell me I have no reason to suspect sabotage.”

She granted us full access to her facilities and cleared her own schedule to help. That wasn’t surprising. The most obvious suspect was Dr. Mendez herself, colluding to switch the proper device for the faulty one.

We spent the next two hours getting to know far more about the clinic’s supply chain than we ever wanted to. It was tightly regulated, considering the street value of the drugs. The doctor didn’t keep a large supply—she wasn’t a pharmacist—but they were still valuable.

That tight regulation meant no one could slip into the supply closet midday and swap out my birth control. Also, I wasn’t the only patient receiving that type of implant. It was cutting-edge technology and difficult to obtain—which is why I hadn’t used my Portland doctor. After I’d requested it, though, Dr. Mendez had begun using it for two other patients. She’d contacted both yesterday and tested them, and their implants were working fine. That meant mine had been switched. Specifically mine.

By four, we had our culprit: the nurse who’d delivered the implant to Dr. Mendez during my appointment.

When we first confronted her, there were about two minutes of denials, which quickly turned to a teary explanation.

“They promised to get my son transferred to a minimum-security prison. He was supposed to be in minimum-security. It’s his first offense. But overcrowding and …” Her hands fluttered. “He’s young. Naive. Small for his age. That prison …” She shuddered. “He’s not a bad boy, but that prison was going to make him one. And now he’s where he should be, and I don’t regret what I did to get him there.” She looked at me. “When you have your baby, you’ll understand.”

“No,” I said. “I already have a child. I’d jump in front of a speeding bus to protect her, but I’d never push anyone else in front of it.”

Her lips tightened. “You say you do not want a baby. That makes you the selfish one.”

Lucas looked ready to lose his temper again. I gave him a look and instead he asked, “Have you told your contact that Paige is pregnant?”

“No, I only learned it when you came in today.”

“Who is your contact?” I asked.

“I was approached by two men from the Cabal. They work for him. Directly for him. He asked them to do this, and he got my boy transferred.”

“And he is?”

Her look said the answer should be obvious. And it was. I just needed to hear her say it. After a moment, she did.

“Mr. Cortez. Benicio Cortez.”

We couldn’t go to Benicio and accuse him yet. We needed hard evidence.

The next step was tracking down the two men who’d hired the nurse. She’d provided names and we knew both of them—executives with the kind of vague job titles that tell everyone not to ask what exactly they do. Problem solvers. Fixers. Both of whom reported directly to Benicio.

Lucas knew one of the two fixers—Heath Denby—very well. As kids, neither boy had been particularly enamored of Cabal life, slipping off together when they found themselves at the same function. As for the other man—John Pearce—I was the one who knew him better, having quietly interceded in a family matter that could have cost him his job. So Lucas met up with Savannah to track Denby while Adam and I went after Pearce.

We tracked Pearce to a gym after his shift ended. While Cabal headquarters had state-of-the-art facilities, Pearce was recovering from a back injury and apparently not keen to let his colleagues see that he wasn’t in perfect shape yet.

We parked next to his car, where I planned to intercept him post-workout. When a food truck pulled into the lot and set my stomach churning, we put the windows up and turned on the air.

“So, morning sickness …” Adam said. “I’m guessing the ‘morning’ part is false advertising?”

“It’s worse in the morning, but it definitely doesn’t vanish at the stroke of noon. I’m hoping it’s temporary. Well, if …”

“If you decide to continue the pregnancy.”

When I shrugged, he said, “You don’t need to tiptoe around it with me. Are you forgetting who came to Boston when you had a scare in college? There wasn’t any question of what you’d have done then, or any question of who’d drive you to the clinic to do it.”

“I know. Thank you. I’m just … struggling. I’m not in college anymore, so the decision is tougher. I have a great marriage. Lucas would make an amazing father. We have good jobs and enough money to easily support a family. There’s no reason not to go through with it.”

“Except for the fact that maybe you and Lucas don’t want to be parents. Which is kinda the most important reason of all.”

“I know. But we wouldn’t mind being parents, so even that makes it hard. On the other hand, saying we wouldn’t mind having a baby doesn’t seem good enough.”

“I think if you decide to continue, that’s a perfectly fine place to start. But if you decide not to, that’s fine, too.”

He eased back in his seat, looking out the window. “There’s also a third option. Savannah and I … Well, we talked, and …” He glanced over. “If you wanted to go through with the pregnancy but not keep the baby, we’d take it. Happily. We could do it however you guys wanted—keep it open and be honest from the start, or stay quiet until the kid’s older, or … whatever.”

“That’s …” My eyes filled again and I brushed my hand over them. “Sorry. Hormones, apparently. Which you know all about.”

“Oh, I do, though I sometimes suspect Savannah just likes the excuse.”

I managed a laugh. “Possibly. But … the offer … Thank you. Really. That’s … big. Huge.”

He shrugged. “Hey, one baby, two babies, doesn’t make much difference, right?”

“You might want to talk to Elena and Clay about that.”

“We’d survive. Anyway, we just wanted to put it out there. As a third option.”

I leaned over the seat and hugged him. “Thank you.”

We’d been in the parking lot almost three hours. That seemed excessive. Admittedly, my idea of exercise is an hour of Pilates twice a week, so I’m not exactly a gym rat. But even Adam declared this was longer than he and Savannah spent at the gym. We snuck in under cover of blur spells and split up to hunt. By this point, we figured Pearce would have retired to the sauna or the pool. The sauna was in the men’s room, so I got the pool.

I was heading toward my goal when I spotted Pearce in the bar. The juice bar, that is. He’d staked out a table in the corner and had his laptop set up to work, though a woman was making that difficult. He was very clearly trying to do work and she kept hitting on him.

I decided to help. I took out my cell phone, set the call to show up as a private number, and dialed Pearce’s phone from the number the nurse had been given. It rang. It continued ringing, and Pearce kept typing on his laptop as the woman chattered to him.

The number connected. A man’s voice said, “Cortez Corporation. John Pearce speaking …” as I watched Pearce, still typing, his phone on the table, untouched.

“The number I used is also the one I have for John.” I was on the speakerphone to Lucas as Adam drove us. “Which makes no sense. Sure, whoever was pretending to be him could reroute it, but he’d notice if he wasn’t getting any calls. So how …? Wait. Wasn’t there something about the Cabal phones about six months ago?”

“Yes, a security breach, which resulted in new phone numbers for a few dozen employees, primarily in the security department, which John technically is.”

“That means I have his old number. Which is the one someone gave the nurse, pretending to be him. We need to find out who took that number.”

From my office, I hacked into the telecommunications system. Easy enough. Something like the reallocation of a phone number isn’t considered worthy of the highest security measures. I just needed to be on the Cabal system to hack it, which I did, in about ten minutes.

“Ralph Daly has Pearce’s old number,” I said to Lucas, who was waiting quietly behind me. “The requisition order tracks back to him. He specifically requested it as an alternative number, which he asked be left off the main directory.”

Daly was a VP and a board member. Also, one of Lucas’s staunchest supporters.

“Any possibility it may have been requested in his name?” Lucas asked.

“The note says it was directly requested. Of course, it’s not inconceivable that—”

A rap sounded at the front door. When I opened the door, Benicio stood there.

“I saw the light on,” he said. “I hoped—Oh. Lucas. Hello.”

Lucas gave a stiff nod and stayed in his seat.

“May I come in?” Benicio asked.

I motioned him inside. As he closed the door, he said, “I would like to apologize. To both of you, of course, but mostly to Paige. When I made that suggestion the other night, I didn’t see the harm in it. Now I do. It was inexcusably offensive. You have made your decision. I respect that, and I apologize for asking you to change it.”

“I have heard,” Lucas said, “that the board pressured you to put forward the proposal. Strongly pressured you. Particularly some of those who support me.”

Benicio made a face. “Whatever pressure I’ve gotten, the decision to ask was ultimately mine. The mistake was mine.”

“Should I speak to anyone from the board myself?” Lucas said.

“My sources suggest Ralph Daly has been particularly vocal.”

“Ralph wants to see you take my place, and sometimes, in his zealousness to do so, he doesn’t consider the ramifications.” A wry smile. “Not unlike your father, it seems. I’ll have a word with him. You won’t hear any more about it. I understand your decision. And of course, if you change your mind, Paige herself is proof that, with a little magical help, there’s no reason you couldn’t have a child ten years from now—”

“Papá,” Lucas said, squeezing the bridge of his nose. “That is not dropping the subject.”

Benicio sighed. “Another apology, then. Is there any way I can entice you both to join me in a late dinner? If I promise that the subject is truly dropped?”

Lucas glanced at me. I nodded.

“Dinner would be fine, Papá. Thank you.”

The next morning, I was parked in our condo bathroom, Adam having carried a comfortable chair in there for me. He’d meant it as a joke. An hour later, I found myself in it, working on my laptop. It was just easier that way.

At ten, Lucas pinged my computer. I opened a video screen as he ushered Ralph Daly into his office.

Lucas greeted Daly, exchanging the prerequisite small talk along with apologies for disturbing his workday and Daly’s assurances that it was fine, just fine.

“I have a … sensitive matter to discuss,” Lucas said, moving to the chair behind his desk. “I have not yet mentioned it to my father, and I would like to ask you to do the same. Before you do, let me assure you it is personal, not business, and therefore I am not placing you in a difficult position.”

Daly quickly agreed to silence.

“Paige is pregnant,” Lucas said.

Daly lowered himself into the chair, his eyes glowing, the news clearly welcome even as he responded to Lucas with a more cautious, “Is that … good news?”

“For me, yes. The only reason I haven’t told my father is that I want Paige to pass the initial trimester to ensure all is well.”

“But it’s good news. So congratulations are in order.”

“Thank you. I will warn, however, that Paige may not be as open to those congratulations. This …” He cleared his throat. “This is the sensitive part of the discussion. My wife did not wish to have children. I was not as decided on the matter.”

“I see.”

“Which is complicated. If a man wants children and his wife does not, there’s little he can do if he loves his wife and wants to respect her wishes.”

Daly smiled. “It’s a happy accident, then.”

“It’s not actually an accident. Paige’s birth control was tampered with at her doctor’s office. Naturally, I investigated. That is what I do for a living. I investigate.”

Sweat beaded on Daly’s wide forehead.

Lucas met Daly’s gaze and said, evenly, “I have tracked the sabotage to its source.”

Silence.

“And I would like to thank the man responsible.”

Daly exhaled.

“I take it I tracked the source successfully?” Lucas said.

Daly managed a wry smile. “You are the investigator, as you said. It seems we underestimated your powers of deduction. But if you aren’t angry …”

“As I said, I’m grateful. I will remember your intervention when I become heir. Which will be easier now, with Paige pregnant, robbing my brother of his advantage.”

“It will indeed,” Daly said, relaxing. “I knew this no-baby thing wasn’t your choice. Otherwise, I’d never have cooked up the plan.”

“I appreciate that. As I appreciate your assistance in this matter.”

“Oh, you’re going to get lots of assistance once you become CEO, Lucas. Don’t you ever worry about that.” Daly leaned forward. “You should have come to us with this, and we’d have made this right. We’re here for you. I know you’re worried about becoming CEO, but once you are, you won’t have to do a thing. We know how to run a company.”

“And I am learning.”

“Sure, sure. Everyone appreciates the effort. It looks good for those in the lower ranks. But no one at the top will actually expect you to lead. You don’t need to worry about that. We’ll handle it.”

“By ‘we,’ you mean …”

Daly rhymed off a list of nearly every board member on Lucas’s side. Then he said, “You’ll get all the perks of being CEO and none of the responsibilities. Of course, you will need to do a few things, to make it look good. Some of your pet projects—reforms or whatnot—are excellent ideas, and we’ll give you everything you need to institute those. Unlimited resources and unwavering support.”

“While you and the others handle the business end.”

Daly grinned. “It’s what we do. And when your father finally steps down, we can do it right.”

“I am as much a straw man as Carlos,” Lucas said.

We sat in our condo living room. Lucas sat upright, staring across the room, me twisted sideways, knees pulled up, watching him, my heart breaking.

“I’ve spent my life fighting my father’s plan,” he said. “Then I grudgingly inched toward it and then finally threw myself in, because if I was going to do this, I was going to do it right.” He looked at me. “They don’t want me to do it right. They never did.”

I could point out that, below the board level, Lucas had far more support than Carlos—real support from real employees who expected him to be a real leader. But that wouldn’t help right now. Instead, I said, “Your father expects you to be that leader. This has nothing to do with him.”

“Which makes it worse. He’s given his life to this company. He made it the most powerful Cabal in the country. How do they repay him? By biding their time, waiting to feast on the spoils.”

“Jackals.”

“I knew they were businessmen first, but they’ve always said they support my reforms. They were humoring me. Nothing more. When Hector and William died, they only saw it as their chance to truly run the Cortez Cabal.”

“They’ll destroy it.”

He nodded. “They’ll choose meaningless reforms for me to pursue, and in my way, I’ll be no different than Carlos. He would use his position and money to pursue his hobbies; I’d use it to pursue mine. It’s not even about which of us they’d prefer nominally in charge—each side has its own agenda, and they’ve each chosen a brother to push forward.”

He turned to face me. “I should say it doesn’t matter, shouldn’t I? If I was as strong as my father wants me to be, I would use them to gain the position and then strip them of their power and pursue my own agenda.”

“You can’t just fire a board of directors.”

“My father could find a way to do it. Deceit, trickery, manipulation, blackmail …”

“That isn’t you.”

“It should be, though, shouldn’t it? If I was the man he expects me to be?”

“Then you wouldn’t be the man I expect you to be. More importantly, you wouldn’t be the man you expect to be.”

He dipped his chin, his gaze dipping with it. “But walking away feels like more than failure. It feels like abandonment. Am I leaving employees to their fate under Carlos?”

“I have another idea.”

Lucas took the next day off. No excuses made. He just canceled his meetings. After five years of moving the Cabal up in his priority list—always aware of how it would look to the board if he “shirked” his duties—he no longer had to care. As much as I wished it could have happened in any other way, I saw a weight lifting already. I’d been holding this solution in my back pocket, watching and waiting for the right moment to broach it. Now I realized that “right moment” should have been “as soon as I thought of it.”

We drove to Orlando along back roads so Lucas could pull over whenever I needed, while he fretted and fussed and insisted we didn’t need to do this today. But we did. This meeting could change our lives. All of our lives.

My stomach was much better by the time we arrived. After a five-hour meeting, we returned to Miami, on the highway now, as I teleconferenced with a caterer and Savannah, who was making sure dinner would be ready when we pulled into the drive. It was … and our guest followed less than ten minutes later.

We had dinner with Benicio. Then, over post-dinner coffee, Lucas said, “I am withdrawing as your heir, Papá.”

Benicio winced and put down his mug. “If this is about my mistake the other night—”

“It’s not. That is, it’s not directly connected, and it is not about you at all.”

He told Benicio what had happened. Not the entire story. He fudged the pregnancy part, saying instead that, after our dinner that night and our conversation, we decided to check my birth control and discovered the sabotage. From there, he followed the story accurately, ending with his meeting with Daly and offering to show the video of Daly admitting their plans.

“Then they’re gone,” Benicio said, getting to his feet. “By Friday, every last person on his damned list is out. I know a way.”

“I’m sure you do, Papá,” Lucas said gently. “But then Carlos has the predominance of support.”

“I’ll get replacements. Men I know who are loyal.”

“You thought Daly was. We both did.”

“Then I’ll—”

“No, Papá. Even if we win, the moment you step down, the Cortez Cabal would split, just as the Nast one did. I would be left with half a Cabal, and a tenuous hold on even that.”

“I’ll—”

“No, Papá,” Lucas said, firmer now. “I am not asking you to do anything. We both know nothing can be done. You had two viable heirs. They are dead.”

“You are a viable heir.”

“Not to the board. No more than Sean was for the Nasts. To them, we are boys playing at men. We are soft.”

“You are not—”

“To them, I am. I’m an idealist. A reformer. That makes me soft. Likewise, Sean may be a shrewder businessman, but he’s not Kristof. There’s none of his father’s ruthlessness in him. And a Cabal is not the most progressive of institutions. Sean came out because he wanted to start his leadership in honesty. Instead, it is seen as weakness—not only because he is gay, but because he was honest.”

“It doesn’t matter. Sean has shown he can lead. He might not have won over as many employees as he hoped, but Thomas and Kristof would both be proud.”

“Then you agree Sean has been successful and, with the right support and resources, he could have a powerful Cabal.”

“Yes, of cour—” Benicio stopped. “Where is this leading, Lucas?”

“I’ve proposed that Sean and I form a joint Cabal, as co-CEOs. I would propose that you invest in it. You would offer a work-share program to select employees, as a loan of resources, under fair terms. Sean and I would continue to build our Cabal, and when you do retire, your employees who wish to join our Cabal could do so. My goal by that point is to offer a viable alternative.”

Lucas lowered his voice. “But yes, Papá, I realize what I am asking—that you surrender the dream of seeing your legacy remain intact. I understand that might not be acceptable. It’s not what you wanted. What you dreamed of. I’m sorry for that.”

Benicio took a deep breath and said, “I presume you’ve spoken to Sean, worked out the preliminary details.” Before Lucas could answer, Benicio’s lips twisted in a wan smile. “No, that’s a silly question. You wouldn’t come to me if you three hadn’t spent the day hammering through it. All right, tell me what you have in mind.”

Benicio didn’t agree that night. We knew he wouldn’t. He needed time to think and consider and accept that his dream wasn’t to be, that there was no plausible way of passing on his legacy wholesale to Lucas. The best he could do was, like anyone in power, pass on what he could and see the core of what he’d accomplished continue.

Lucas and I stayed up into the night planning and talking, and there was an excitement in both of us that I hadn’t seen in a long time. Finally, as we grew sleepy, curled up on the love seat, I said, “I told you about Savannah and Adam’s offer, but otherwise we haven’t had much time to discuss that or anything else about …” I laid my hand on my stomach.

Lucas’s arm tightened around me. “That takes precedence, Paige. Whenever you want to talk, I’m ready.”

“Is now okay?”

He tugged me closer. “Now is perfect.”

“Have you had enough time to think about what you’d like us to do?”

“I have.”

“And …?”

“The fact that you’re raising this subject suggests you’ve done the same, and as I’ve said, I believe your voice carries more weight. I’d like to hear your thoughts first.”

“I’d rather hear yours first.”

“Because you fear I’ll tailor my answer to fit yours?” He took out his pen and notepad. Then, twisting so I couldn’t see, he wrote on it.

“There,” he said after a minute. “You tell me your thoughts, and then I’ll show you mine. First, let me say that I still do not lean heavily in any direction. I have a preference, but if yours is different, I will change mine.”

“You mean we’ll discuss changing it. That’s what I want. A discussion. I want to be sure we’re agreed, insomuch as we can be.”

He kissed my forehead. “I suspect that won’t be a problem. It never is. Now …”

I took a deep breath. “I’d like to keep the baby. I’m open to giving it to Savannah and Adam if you’d prefer that, but I would like to continue the pregnancy, not because I have any issues with ending it. I just feel that, in this situation, I would regret it. However, if you would rather—”

He pressed his notebook into my hand. On a blank page, he’d written,

“I made a list,” he said.

I choked on a laugh even as my eyes filled. “You did.”

He wiped away a falling tear. “It’s the right list, I believe.”

“It is. Sorry.” I blinked back tears. “Hormones. I seem to be crying a lot lately.”

“And you never need to apologize for it. With or without the excuse.” He leaned in and kissed me. “So, it seems we’re having a baby?”

I wrapped my arms around his neck. “A baby and a new Cabal. It should be an adventure.” I smiled. “I like adventures. Well, I like them so long as they’re with you.”

“They always will be.”