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“The doctor, Hibou, he’s not my only option, right? I can see a professional? An OB who doesn’t cross lines?”

Christophe goes eerily calm while Teague and Eddie shift in their seats, alert and on edge. “Did he touch you?”

“No, but…”

I pick up where Winnie seems reluctant to continue. “He tried. Had his hand out for her belly and didn’t ask.” All focus is directed at me. “That’s a cardinal rule, right? Don’t touch the pregnant belly without permission?”

“The rule is to not touch my wife. End of.” Christophe turns to Winnie. “Has he done this before? Is this a fucking habit that needs to be broken?”

“No, this was different than⁠—”

“Different from what?” Each word is encased in ice.

Winnie rolls her lips inward. “Different from the way he stood just outside the nursery like he was inventorying everything inside. Different from how he watched Evie playing in there. Different from him poking at the alarm and grilling Garrick about how it works.”

The silence is absolute.

Chapter 22

Chaos

EDDIE

Silence turns to chaos in the blink of an eye.

“Teague. Put someone on him. Now.” Christophe hands down his orders with an unnatural calm. “If he steps out of line, you know what to do. Jess, you’re officially on call.”

“Aren’t I always?”

How she can get away with snark right now is beyond me, but the implication is set. Last night replays in my mind like a horror film, the crimson smear, my body hitting the ground. My utter uselessness in such situations as nausea rises and rolls in my gut.

I lean forward, elbows set on my knees and grasp the sides of my head, pushing my hair from my face. And I get the reference of holding a girlfriend’s hair back, because if this nausea builds to retching, I’m going to need that assistance.

I fully realize that it’s my pride taking a hit, my sense of honor, my need to protect and maintain control. How the hell am I going to be able to function as a parent when Evie gets older? I can’t pass out if she falls and scrapes her knee. I can’t fail her that way. And God knows Amie doesn’t like getting her hands dirty.

Like someone has perfectly choreographed the events of my day, my phone vibrates with an email notification. Checking email never felt like a godsend until just now. Distraction is my friend and keeps my stomach on an even keel.

As a precaution, I don’t adjust my position, just keep my head down and cradle my phone as I thumb my way through the security measures.

I push the air from my lungs at the sight of correspondence from my nanny. Thank fuck, because I need to know when she’s coming back so I can put my life into some sort of order and get my kid back where I know she’s safe.

Amie is not that.

Amie has never been that.

Hey Eddie,

I’m so sorry that I’ve been dragged away. This hiatus came at an absolutely inconvenient time for all of us, but I know it hit you the hardest.

Thank you for the opportunity to work with Evie. She’s an amazing kid, not that you don’t know that already, and I will miss seeing her sweet smile. Watching her grow and learn, and facilitating in that, has been a joy.

I hope your new arrangement is everything you’re hoping for, but should something change, I would love for you to keep me in mind.

Please tell Evie I’ll miss her and thank you for the awesome letter of recommendation.

All my best,

Chantal