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"There's your baby." Dr. Lévy pointed to the screen. I leaned in, squinting at the little figure that slowly came into focus. My breath caught in my throat as I saw a tiny heartbeat fluttering on the screen.
"Everything looks good," the doctor continued. "Would you like to know the sex of your baby?"
Elsa squeezed my hand, looking up at me with questioning eyes. I nodded, unable to speak.
"Félicitations." Dr. Lévy smiled. "You're going to have a daughter."
A baby girl like Elsa. The words hit me like a freight train, leaving me breathless. I felt a rush of emotions—joy, fear, love, and an overwhelming sense of responsibility.
Fuck me! I was going to have a daughter. Elsa and I were going to be parents.
I felt a prick at the back of my eyes and realized they were tears. I hadn’t cried since I was a boy, and this was proof that I was overwhelmed—something I never was. What was this woman doing to me? And what would this baby do?
Elsa's eyes filled with tears of happiness, and she reached up to touch my face. "We're having a girl, Duncan."
I nodded, my throat tight with emotion. "Yeah,ma douce, we certainly are"
I was so screwed. My whole life was changing, and I didn't know how to handle this. I had regimented my life to live it in a way that worked for me. I had no surprises; not until Elsa—and now I had nothing but that. My well and ordered life was truly fucked.
Dr. Lévy continued with the examination, but my mind was spinning. How was I going to handle this? How could I be the father this little girl deserved? The fear of failure loomed large.
My first instinct was to hold on to Elsa, which I did. My second instinct was to run, which I buried.
Chapter 15
Elsa
"You're out of your mind," Duncan told Papa, who had come in after we'd returned from the doctor's office with ultrasound pictures of our baby girl.
"Il faut que nous annoncions votre mariage." Papa insisted, his tone firm but deceptively pleasant.
"In English, Papa," I remonstrated. Duncan spoke decent French, but I'd figured out that he preferred English because when someone spoke too quickly, he didn't catch everything, and Papa spokefast.
"We have to announce your wedding," Papa repeated smugly in English.
"We don't have to do anything." Duncan wrapped his arm around me. "If you think I'm going to have my pregnant wife around your criminal buddies, you're out of your fucking mind."
Papa smirked. "Already feeling protective of thepetite femme."
The little wife?Oh God! My father was hell-bent on getting a rise out of Duncan.
"Papa, we're having a daughter." I smiled wide, trying to diffuse the situation.
Papa's face wreathed in smiles. "Ah, a girl as beautiful as you,ma chérie. We need to tell everyone about that as well."
"Fuck no." Duncan's voice was steel, hard. "She's got nothing to do with your world, Moreau."
"She's my daughter; she is in my world. Haven't you told him,ma chérie, how you were almost married to Pascal Fournier?"
Duncan's fingers squeezed my waist, and I felt his tension.
"I met that manoncefor less than a minute. I don't knowhim.Youwanted me to marry him," I exclaimed in shock. "He's the reason why I decided to have sex with Duncan."
"No, no." Papa waved a hand, "That was my man in Corsica."
"You wanted her to marry Emmanuel Le Ridant?" Duncan sounded incredulous. "You wanted her to marry the Butcher from Corsica? What the hell is wrong with you?"
"Emmanuel is a good boy," Papa protested.
