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He hopped in beside her with a lithe athleticism that she couldn’t help but be aware of.
“When did you find out?”
“Does it matter?”
“Is there a reason not to tell me?”
She compressed her lips, the warmth of the morning after her long walk making it hard to think straight. “Can you please put on the air conditioning?”
He started the car and concentrated on the settings, making beautiful cool air blow from the vents, immediately offering relief.
“Better?”
She refused to be placated by his solicitous question. Besides, he didn’t seem to want an answer; he moved the conversation along swiftly.
“You said you’ve done this before?”
She angled her face away. “In a sense.”
“In what sense?”
She wanted to ignore him, but was there really any point? Besides, he’d probably be more likely to stay out of her life if he understood how capable she was of running it. “My parents died a little over six years ago. My twin brothers—Ben and Mitch—were thirteen at the time. If I hadn’t taken custody, they’d have gone into foster care.”
“How old were you?”
“Eighteen.”
“So you raised them?”
She didn’t look at him, but nodded once.
He let out a low whistle, but Georgia didn’t care what he might say in response to that. She wasn’t interested in his reactions.
“I know what I’m doing. A baby will be a learning curve but I have no doubt I can do it. I really don’t want anything from you, Dante, except to be able to tell our child, one day, honestly, that I did the right thing by them.”
“And that I didn’t?”
She frowned. “I didn’t mean that.”
“I take it you’ve decided then?”
“Decided that I don’t want you in our life? Yes. Definitely.”
His eyes flashed to hers and bounced away again before she could respond to the darkness in their depths.
“I meant about keeping the baby.”
Her eyes widened as she turned to face him. “I’m in my second trimester,” she said, rubbing a hand over her stomach, as if to block their ears. “That decision is well behind me.”
A muscle jerked in his jaw. “Did you consider?—,”
“No.” She pleated the bottom of her shirt. “That might seem strange. I was—am—terrified, but this is my child.” Knowing her own little son or daughter was inside her tummy had begun to burrow into her heart from almost the first moment she’d known.
He faced the front windscreen, hands tightening on the steering wheel.
“Anyway, I’m going to go back to Australia in a few months. I’ll have the baby there, where I’m familiar with things and have friends to help me. I know the good schools, how the health system works, it will be easier for me to cope. I’ll have support. So you can let me go without another thought. Your conscience is clear: this isn’t at all what I’d planned for my life, but given the circumstances, it’s what I want.”
His eyes flicked to hers, then to his side mirror, his fingers tapping the steering wheel before he jerked on it, pulling them out into traffic so her heart picked up and she looked at him with saucer-wide eyes.
