She shrugged. It sounded silly when you said it out loud. “It was Sienna’s idea, actually. When I learned you were single—”
“And in dire need of funds—”
She felt the back of her neck flush hot. “Yes, exactly.”You have nothing to be ashamed of,she reminded herself.It was an opportunity to create a business arrangement. Like any good businesswoman, you made the offer, and it was accepted.“When I found out all of this, I decided it was the best road to travel. And here we are.”
He was quiet for a while and then sighed. “Well, Arabella’s going to be okay. I spoke to Kim last night, and she said my sister’s recovering nicely from the surgery.”
“I’m glad,” she said sincerely. Knowing that there was at least one good outcome from this insane venture made her feel better about it. They kept on walking as the warmth of the sun enveloped them.
Chapter 24
“You’re doing fine,” Dustin said encouragingly to Samantha as he finished up the final shading on a tiny tattoo of the waterlily she’d asked him to do on her shoulder. She whimpered a bit at the pain, but to give her credit, she was holding up well.
“Yeah,” she said softly. “Don’t know how you managed to be covered with them. How can you stand that needle, in and out, in and out?”
He shrugged. “You get used to it.”
He brought his focus back onto the inking, but his mind was upstairs in their bedroom. Oops,Chantelle’sbedroom, where the doctor was consulting with her. Checking up on her pregnancy. Ensuring his baby was progressing as he or she should.
Not my baby,he reminded himself silently.Not really.
But try as he might to come to grips with the legalities of the arrangement, he knew he could never shake that knowledge. No matter how it had all come about, no matter what the backstory was, the baby Chantelle was carrying was his. Chantelle hadn’t had any dizzy spells for a while, and no fainting either. He hoped the news would be good. But that didn’t make him feel any less anxious.
He glanced up at the room again, causing Samantha to ask, “Everything okay?”
“Sure.”
“Why would Chantelle need a doctor?” She was frankly curious. “She’s not sick, is she?”
Chantelle hadn’t told her siblings about the baby yet, and Dustin knew that revelation wasn’t his to make, so he thought quickly. “Oh, we’ve been toying with the idea of visiting southern Asia later in the year, and you know how it is with travel in that neck of the woods. Lots of vaccine requirements. She figured while she brings her shots up to date, she should also do a physical.”
“Ah. Okay.” Samantha seemed to buy it. So far, so good.
“Looks great.”
They both glanced up to see Dennis peering over at the tattoo, which was still oozing a little blood. Dustin didn’t like people leaning into his space while he was working, but for the sake of peace, he didn’t bother to comment. Dennis seemed to have a habit of encroaching upon other people’s boundaries, a gesture that he thought probably came from a lifetime of wealth and privilege and assuming that wherever you went, you were welcome.
But Dustin simply thanked him and set about cleaning the tattoo site and gently smearing antiseptic balm on it. He handed Samantha a small, printed list of instructions for after care, along with the rest of the tube of balm.
Overhead, he heard the sound of the bedroom door opening, and two sets of footsteps coming down to the landing.
Quickly, not wanting to betray his anxiety, he flipped shut the lid on his portable tattoo kit and nodded to the other two. “Excuse me.”
He waited politely in the background at the foyer, nodding at the doctor, not interrupting as they had their final discussion in French. The moment the doctor was gone, he was by Chantelle’s side. “Walk with me.”
She didn’t hesitate, but stepped into the sunlight with him. He watched her closely as they walked, not just admiring her—which he always did—but searching for any sign that something might be amiss. But there was color in her cheeks and she walked with more confidence and stability that she would have a week ago.
“Well?” He finally asked when nothing was forthcoming.
She glanced at him and then glanced away. “All seems well,” she revealed. “At least for the most part—”
“For themostpart?” he echoed, anxiety rising inside him.
She gave him a look he couldn’t identify, and said with deliberate casualness, “He thinks the fetus might be just a bit undersized and that I should be showing by now. He’s scheduled an ultrasound for next week.”
“Next week!” he burst out. “Can’t you do it any sooner?”
“Next week is reasonable,” she reminded him. “As I said, he doesn’t think there is a cause for concern.”