“Yes. Everyone loved them.”
“Oh my God, and the song that Rick and Donovan sang. They better record it and make a video starring me, don’t you think?”
He smiled. “Sure.” He could listen to her talk all day long.
And she did. For a good five minutes straight, until her voice trailed off and her hands went still. Beau glanced down, his chest filled with love for the woman who was now snoring softly against him.
He swept a kiss across her nose and when they reached the carriage house, he had the driver unlock the place so that Beau could carry his bride up the stairs into the house.
He strode into the bedroom and laid her on the bed.
“Hey,” Betty murmured, eyes half open.
“Hey yourself.” He studied her intently and decided to ask the question that had been bugging him for almost a week. “Is everything okay?”
Her eyes widened and she sat up, brushing her hair off her face, eyes sliding away from his. No. She was definitely not all right.
“Why do you ask?” she replied, voice soft and…wait…was that a tremble in her voice?
Suddenly alarmed, Beau sank onto the bed beside her. “What is it?”
He watched Betty closely as her fingers worked the edge of a pillow, and his alarm grew because for the first time he noticed the dark smudges beneath her eyes. Her skin was pale, and there was no color in her cheeks.
He leaned forward, grabbed her face between his hands and searched her eyes. “Betty, what the hell is going on?”
“I…”
Her eyes got even bigger and sweat broke out across her forehead. Beau was beyond mild concern now. He was full-on freaking scared. He moved, trying to get closer and the bed dipped.
Betty yanked her head away from him and groaned. “Move back,” she gasped.
Not understanding, Beau just stared at her, shocked when she thumped him in the chest.
“Mother-trucker,” she wailed, before rolling over and off the bed, a mess of hair and wedding dress.
Beau was on his feet and one step behind as she dashed for the bathroom. When she fell to her knees in front of the toilet, he was there, pulling her hair back, away from her face. Anxious, feeling more than a little helpless as Betty heaved until there was nothing left inside her, he could do nothing but be there for her to help her through it.
When she was done, Beau helped her out of her dress. He took a warm cloth and washed her face, got her a toothbru
sh and then brought her back to bed with him.
He held her until she stopped shivering and with a soft kiss to the side of her neck, he took a moment because he was unsure—and that particular feeling wasn’t one that Beau Simon was used to.
“Are you going to tell me what’s going on?” he asked quietly, stroking her hair.
Betty shivered once more and burrowed deeper into him. “Well,” she began. “You know how we…well, how we thought it would be good to try for a kid?”
Beau stilled. They’d talked about it, sure, but in his mind it was something that would happen next year.
“We just started…you just got off the pill,” he said, turning slightly so that he could see her face.
Betty exhaled and offered him a small smile. “Well, Mr. Simon, either I’m fertile as hell or you’ve got super sperm, because I’m six weeks pregnant.”
Pregnant. Holy shit.
“Are you sure?”
Her smiled faltered. “Aren’t you happy?”