ChapterThirty-Two
Her questions about his family lit a fire of hope in Xavier’s chest. Hours ago, when they’d made love, when he’d held her, he’d known she didn’t fully trust the commitment he offered, and now she was probing, asking about the people who were most important to him. The people who would lavish love on their child.
But they wouldn’t just love the baby. They’d embrace Audrey too. And she needed to know that.
“If anything happens to me, if I don’t walk out of this forest, I want you to know my family will love not just the baby, they’ll love you too.”
She stopped dead in her tracks at his words. “We’re both walking out of here. Don’t even think there’s going to be any other outcome.”
He touched her cheek. “I will move heaven and earth for us both to survive this, but at the same time, I need you to know my family will be there for you, just like you needed to write me that letter. Some things need to be said. Some things need to be heard.”
She nodded. “Okay. But let’s focus on getting out of here together.”
“Of course.”
He could tell the hike was more of a struggle than she wanted to admit, but then he couldn’t judge. His shoulder ached like it was on fire. He’d taken ibuprofen this morning, which didn’t really touch the pain, but anything stronger would slow his reflexes.
Two hours after they set out, the sky opened up once again. The downpour was so heavy, it penetrated the canopy with enough force to fall in sheets. They huddled under a cluster of branches and ate protein bars, hoping the cloudburst would pass quickly.
“I gotta say, I’m not a big fan of the weather here,” he quipped.
“I’ll admit, I’m not too fond of it right now either. Days like today, I’m usually in my office or, if it’s a day off, I’m home, sitting by a fire and reading a good book.”
From there, they traded book recommendations and talked about their favorite authors, and he looked forward to a time when they’d sit by a fire together, content with their own books while spending time together.
He’d never had that with Lynn. When they spent time together, she’d wanted to be the focus of his attention. Which was fine, but also exhausting. It had never occurred to him that he could have set a boundary and asked that they share downtime together too. Maybe it had been just as exhausting for her. He didn’t even know if she liked to read and was fairly certain she never realized he liked to read a few chapters each night before sleeping. They’d never spent a night together that didn’t follow sex, and he was damn certain she would have been miffed if he’d picked up a book after pleasuring her.
He realized now he’d never really been himself with Lynn. That had been unfair to them both.
“If we had sex, and then before going to sleep, I wanted to read a book or watch TV…would you have a problem with that?”
“Of course not. I usually read before I go to sleep. Why do you ask?”
“I just realized I never felt comfortable reading when my ex spent the night. I think it would have bothered her that my attention wasn’t on her. But to be fair to her, I never asked.”
“Sex is great and all, but there’s got to be more to a relationship than that.”
He took her hand in his and brought it to his lips. Neither of them wore gloves while they’d been eating, so it was bare skin to skin. Her hand was icy cold against his lips. “There’s more between us than sex. I know this started as a one-night stand, but even then, I felt something with you that went deeper. These past two days have only confirmed it.”
She gently extracted her hand. “It could just be the baby muddling things.”
He shook his head. Her concern was reasonable, but he knew his mind—and his heart. “I meant what I said last night. And I get that you can’t say it back. I know you might never be able to. But I want you to know for me, this—us—is real.” He rose to his feet. The rain had lifted slightly. They needed to keep going. “Now, what else do you want to know about my family?”
“Did your family immigrate, or were they in California before statehood?”
“My grandparents on my father’s side immigrated from Mexico just after World War II—before my dad was born. My mother’s side was here a generation before that. I never knew her parents, but I was close to my paternal grandparents.”
“Do you speak Spanish?”
“Not as much as I’d like. My grandparents—on both sides—were eager for their children to be seen as Americans and so didn’t speak Spanish much at home. Neither of my parents are fluent, my brother and I less so. But my brother’s wife is from Costa Rica, and she’s teaching their son Spanish along with my brother.”
“Oh, I love that. I’d love to have a second language and would love it even more if our baby were multilingual.”
“I’ve always wanted to take classes. This would be a good time. Maybe hire a tutor. I’ve studied Russian and Arabic for the job, and having a tutor for intensive training really helped. I’m not fluent like Cohen is in Russian, but I often get the gist.”
Behind him, he heard the snap of a stick followed by the click of a gun being cocked, followed by a man’s voice—speaking Russian. “Oh yeah? Then you should understand what I’m about to tell you. You both are coming with me, or I will shoot your pregnant girlfriend in the stomach.”