16. Grace
Chapter 16
Grace
I shift on my feet, glancing out the window, watching for Kate’s car like it’s a lifeline. The note I left Kane sits on the counter, mocking me. The coward’s way out, I know. Running instead of facing him, instead of admitting the truth. But what the hell was I supposed to do? Look him in the eye after this morning, after the way he wrecked me in every conceivable way? I can’t admit the truth to him if I’m not ready to admit the truth to my own self.
No. I need time. I need to breathe. I need to make sure the baby is okay and going to my first doctor’s appointment is the best excuse to get out of here.
The faint rumble of a car engine pulls me out of my thoughts. Kate’s Jeep slows to a stop in Kane’s driveway, and I grab my purse, inhaling deeply before quietly slipping out the door. The morning air is crisp, carrying the scent of salt from the ocean. I don’t look back as I hurry down the steps, slipping into the passenger seat before Kane has a chance to come outside.
Kate eyes me suspiciously as she shifts into drive. “You want to tell me why I had to come pick you up when you’ve got a very sexy, very overprotective firefighter in that house who could’ve driven you to your doctor’s appointment?”
I click my seatbelt into place, keeping my voice casual. “I just needed some space.”
Kate doesn’t buy it. “Grace.”
I rub my hands over my thighs, avoiding her gaze. “It’s nothing.”
Kate scoffs. “Bullshit. If it was nothing, you wouldn’t be looking at your hands like they hold the meaning of life. Spill. What happened?”
I exhale slowly. “I just didn’t want to deal with Kane today, okay?”
Her brows rise, but she doesn’t press, not yet, but I see it in her eyes—Kate is patient, but not that patient. “I grabbed you a bag of clothes from my closet. They’re in the backseat.”
I look at the bag, knowing that eventually those clothes aren’t going to fit, but they’ll do for now…until I need to go shopping for larger clothes.
“Thanks.”
We drive in silence for a few minutes, the radio playing some pop song that normally I’d roll my eyes at, but right now, I just focus on the passing streets. The doctor’s office is ten minutes away, but it might as well be an eternity. Because as soon as we get there, Kate’s going to know. The second she sees the sign-in sheet, sees where we are, sees the obstetrics department—she’ll know.
My pulse picks up.
I swallow hard, forcing myself to breathe through the anxiety clawing at my ribs. I could reschedule, but I have to go. I have to make sure everything is okay after breathing in all that smoke yesterday.
Kate keeps stealing glances at me. She knows something’s up. She just hasn’t figured it out yet.
We pull into the medical plaza, and my stomach twists. I place a hand on my abdomen without thinking, protective, instinctual. Kate parks and turns off the engine, but before she can ask anything else, I shove open the door and head toward the entrance.
My name is on the patient list. The receptionist hands me a clipboard. Kate leans against the counter, reading the sign.
Obstetrics my chest tight. “What if he doesn’t want this?”
Kate snorts. “Oh, Grace. Kane doesn’t back down from anything, and when it comes to you? That man is all in. You just don’t realize it yet.”
I don’t answer.
Because deep down, I hope she’s right.
The florist shop smells like fresh-cut blooms, soft and sweet, a contrast to the storm churning inside me. Thankfully, my stomach is not revolting at the intoxicating fragrances. My fingers trail absently over the velvety petals of a deep red rose, my mind a million miles away. Or, more accurately, stuck on a single conversation.
Kate’s words from the car won’t stop echoing in my head.
You need to tell him.
You’re not alone in this.
Kane may be the most aggravating man alive, but he’s also one of the most loyal.
She’s right. I know she is. I can’t put this off forever. Hell, I shouldn’t even want to. But the idea of saying those words—of watching Kane’s reaction as I tell him I’m carrying his child—makes my stomach twist into knots.
Will he be furious? Walk away? Will he try to take control, to dictate how my life, and the life of our child, is going to go? Will he even want me? Want the baby?
I exhale slowly, forcing my focus back on Kate as she debates between calla lilies and white peonies. Her wedding is only a few weeks away, and for the past thirty minutes, I’ve done a decent job pretending I’m actually helping instead of spiraling out of control.
Kate taps a finger against her chin. “Okay, so hear me out. Peonies are gorgeous, classic, totally romantic. But calla lilies? They’re sophisticated. Elegant. And they look amazing in photos.”
I pick up one of the stems, rolling it between my fingers. “They both work, but what about a mix?”
Her eyes brighten. “Ooh. Peonies with accents of calla lilies? That’s actually brilliant.”
“Of course it is. I’m a genius.”
She snorts. “You’re something, all right.”
We finalize her order, and I relax a bit. I should feel better. Productive. But all I can think about is that I have an appointment of my own. A conversation that can’t wait any longer.
By the time we leave the florist and head toward Kane’s house, the weight of the truth sits heavy in my chest.
Kate pulls up to the curb and cuts the engine. Before I can open the door, she grabs my hand. “You’ve got this,” she says firmly. “Tell him. Be honest. You don’t have to do this alone.”
I swallow hard. “I’ve always done things alone, Kate.”
She squeezes my fingers. “I know, but that changes now. Whether Kane steps up or not, you’ve got me and Hudson, the girls on the kickball team, and I’m sure the Walking Ladies will somehow get in the middle of it all. You’ve got a whole damn family, Grace.” Her voice softens. “And that baby? He or she is going to have the best aunt and uncle on the planet.”
A lump rises in my throat as a tear slips down my cheek. These damn emotions.
I nod. “Thank you.”
Kate smiles. “Of course. Now go inside before you psych yourself out anymore.”
I force myself to climb out of the car. I don’t look back as I walk toward the front door. I can’t. If I hesitate, I’ll start second-guessing myself, and I can’t afford that right now.
I push inside, my breath catching—only to realize the house is empty. The living room is dark, untouched from when I left earlier. No sound of the shower running. No scent of Kane’s aftershave lingering in the air. He’s not home.
Disappointment tightens in my stomach, quickly followed by something ugly. Is he with someone else?
I grit my teeth. No. I won’t do this. I won’t let my mind go down that road. Kane might be infuriating, but he’s never been the kind of man who plays games.
And even if he is out with someone else? Fine. Whatever. It just makes my decision much easier. If he’s already moved on, if I was nothing more than a hiccup in his life, then I’ll deal with it. Like I always do.
I don’t have time to spiral. I need to stay busy .
I toe off my shoes and head toward the kitchen. If Kane isn’t home yet, he will be eventually, and I’ll have to face him. Might as well give myself something to do until then.
I’ll make dinner. That’s safe. Practical. Domestic.
I move around the kitchen, pulling out ingredients, my hands moving on autopilot. Chop the vegetables. Season the chicken. Heat the skillet. It’s almost normal. Almost not nerve-wracking. Then my stomach lurches and I freeze, gripping the counter as nausea slams into me.
Not now. Not when I’ve actually cooked something for once in my life. But my stomach doesn’t care. I barely make it to the bathroom before I’m on my knees, retching into the toilet. My body heaves violently, and my hair falls into my face. I groan, shoving it back as another wave hits me. Damn morning sickness. Except it’s not morning anymore, and I’m so over this part of pregnancy already.
I try to breathe through it, but before I can fully recover, another problem slams into me.
Beep. Beep. Beep.
The high-pitched wail of the smoke detector blares from the kitchen and my eyes go wide. Shit.
I scramble to my feet, ignoring the way my stomach churns, and rush down the hall. Smoke curls from the stovetop. Flames dance along the edge of the pan, reaching dangerously high.
Damn it. Damn it. Damn it.
I lunge for the stove, grabbing a lid and slamming it over the flames. I twist the knob off, my heart hammering. The fire smothers out, but my hands are shaking, my breath coming fast.
I’m such an idiot. I should have been paying attention. I should have?—
The front door bursts open.
Kane.
His eyes take in everything in an instant—the smoke, the still-blaring alarm, me standing in the middle of the chaos, pale and shaken.
He doesn’t hesitate.
“Damn, Gracie.” He stalks toward me, his hands already reaching, his voice sharp with worry. “What happened?”
I shake my head, unable to find words.
His gaze locks onto mine, sweeping over me like he’s checking for burns, for injuries. “Are you okay?”
I nod numbly .
“Gracie.” His voice lowers, rough. “Talk to me.”
I press my hand to my stomach, barely registering the gesture. “I—” My voice shakes. “I got sick. I wasn’t paying attention. It—it caught fire. I’m so sorry.”
Kane curses, then reaches past me to yank the batteries from the smoke detector, silencing the alarm. The sudden silence is deafening.
He exhales slowly, running a hand over his face before turning back to me. “You scared the shit out of me.”
I swallow hard. “I’m fine.”
“Fine?” His eyes darken. “Grace, you were about to burn the damn house down.”
Shame washes over me. I look away, guilt twisting inside me. But then Kane’s hands are cupping my face, tilting my chin up so I have no choice but to look at him.
“Don’t do that,” he murmurs.
I blink. “Do what?”
“Shut down. Shut me out.”
I inhale shakily.
His gaze softens, just a fraction. “Talk to me, Gracie. I know something’s going on. I just need you to talk to me.”
My throat tightens. This is it. The moment. The conversation I’ve been dreading. Looking at him now, seeing the concern in his eyes, the fear from thinking I could have been hurt— I can’t keep this from him anymore.
I take a deep breath. “Kane,” I whisper. “I need to tell you something.”
His hands tighten around my face, his brows pulling together. “What is it?”
I place a hand over my stomach. My heart is a wild, frantic thing in my chest. His gaze flicks down, following the motion. And just like that… the words are on the tip of my tongue, but I can’t say them yet. Not with the panic still sitting heavy in my chest. Not with reality crashing into me all at once .
Kane watches me closely, his jaw tight, his patience hanging by a thread.
I take another breath. Then another. And finally, finally , I force myself to say it. “I’m pregnant.”
His whole body goes still.
Time stops.
And in that single, endless second, I know— nothing will ever be the same again.