Kristinaâs joy, until she said something about the baby being the cement that would keep them together. When heâd questioned her on that, it slowly came out that sheâd been afraid he was going to leave her, and sheâd wanted to have a baby to keep their marriage together. Not exactly a shocking revelation, but heâd expected her to eventually join more in the joy and anticipation he was feeling with the impending birth. They were going to have a child together, for Godâs sake. The fact that she clearly hadnât experienced any of that had eaten him up inside throughout the whole pregnancy to the point where now he found himself unable to talk about the baby with her much at all. Worse yet, she seemed to have no interest in talking to him about some very real concerns she was having.
It was all just . . . hell.
Now, driving up to his house, seeing its natural shingles and white trim, its sweeping drive, lush yard, and three-car garage, he swallowed back his misgivings. He hit the button on the garage-door opener and had a chest-tightening sensation of playacting. This wasnât right. He needed to get things square between them and fast because he and Kristina were having a baby very soon. Their baby.
Her silver Mercedes was in its spot. He exhaled a pent-up breath. Good. She was home. He needed to talk to her while he was full of resolve to put things back together between them.
âKristina?â he called as he walked through the kitchen, all stainless steel appliances and cream granite with silvery veins. There was a sunroom off the back with windows that looked toward the ocean, but she wasnât there. As he walked through the kitchen to the great room, which jutted even farther toward the edge of the headland, and looked through the windows to the deck where heâd spent so many long hours that one night, deciding what to do about his marriage and the surrogacy, he didnât expect her to be outside. The rain was heavy, and it was already growing dark, but there she was, her rich mahogany hair whipping around her face as she hugged her jacket close.
âHey,â he said, cracking open the French door. Even then the rain slapped against his face. âWhatâs going on?â
She half turned, and he could see that her face was pale, her lips pinched. She moved toward him, and he stepped back, closing the door hard behind her as a gust of wind rattled the panes.
âSomething wrong?â he asked.
âNo, Iâm . . .â She trailed off and shook her head.
âYou were standing in the rain,â he pointed out, trying to get her going again.
She gazed up at him through pale blue eyes that seemed to look right through him. He had a strange moment of recalling her sister, Savannahâs, deeper blue ones, and that made him feel uncomfortable.
Kristinaâs hair was unnaturally darkened by the rain, and she ran her right-hand fingers through it somewhat listlessly. âI was just taking a moment.â
âYou couldnât have taken your moment inside?â
âMagda came late and just left,â she said, referring to the woman who cleaned their house and also the Seaside Bancroft Development office. âSheâll be here Monday again to finish up.â
âYou were outside to avoid her?â
âLeave me alone, Hale.â
He was leery of her flat tone. âIf thereâs something going on . . .â
âIâm just tired. I feel like weâve been on a treadmill for a long time.â
He hardly knew what to do with her in her uncertain mood. âGot any ideas how to slow the treadmill down? The baby is coming.â
âYou think Iâve forgotten?â She shot him a fierce glance.
He lifted his hands in surrender. âIâm kinda playing catch-up here. If Iâm missing something, let me know.â
âYouâre not missing anything. Itâs just . . .â She squeezed one fist