Page 158 of Beautiful Exile

“Everything looks great. We’ll get you in with a specialist to confirm, but they look like happy, healthy little ones to me. You’re around nine weeks.”

My head spun. “Linc did say he wanted a football team.”

Nora heldthe door for me, and I stepped out into the sunshine, my mind still reeling. I was leaving with a referral to an OB-GYN, two weeks’ worth of prenatal vitamins, and approximately eighty-two pamphlets on pregnancy.

“So much for birth control,” I muttered.

Nora chuckled as we headed down the sidewalk. “Sometimes, life just finds a way.”

“Are you comparing my babies toJurassic Park?”

She only laughed harder. “Hey, it’s a good movie.”

“You and Kye,” I muttered. They couldn’t watch it enough.

My steps faltered as I saw a familiar figure headed down the street. His attire was a little more subdued than normal—no feathers in his hair or hipster hat—but it was Denver all the same.

Nora touched my elbow. “Want me to run interference?”

I shook my head. “It’s time.”

Denver had sent flowers to the hospital and cookies to my house, but we hadn’t spoken. The truth was, I’d been putting him off, unsure of what to say.

“I’m going to pop into the bookstore,” Nora said softly. “Find me when you’re ready.”

I nodded, somewhat aware of her disappearing into the closestshop, but my gaze was on Denver. His pace slowed until he stopped in front of me. “God, it’s good to see you. How are you doing?”

“Just got my stitches out.” It was all I could muster.

Denver stared at my torso as if he could see where I’d been wounded. “I’m so damn sorry, Ardy. For everything. I just—I got caught up. And it wasn’t good. I didn’t treat you right. And I wasn’t there when you needed me because of it.”

“Den. This”—I gestured to my stomach—“isn’t on you. None of us saw it.”

He scrubbed a hand over his face. “Isaiah’s really twisted up over it. The Hannah stuff has him tweaked. But Farah? That’s fucked.”

Denver wasn’t wrong, and his words had me realizing I needed to have Isaiah over to do a check-in. “We’ll get through it,” I promised.

“We will.” Denver’s gaze swept over my face. “Is there anything I can do for you? I know it’s too little too late, but if I can help with anything, just say the word.”

“Could you come back to work?” I asked.

I hadn’t planned on asking him, but it felt right. Maybe early pregnancy hormones were making me ooey-gooey, but I just wanted all the people I cared about close. And Denver might’ve messed up, but I cared about him and knew he cared about me.

Denver’s brown eyes widened. “Seriously?”

“We need to do things differently this time.”

He nodded quickly. “I know. There won’t be any pushing you to do things you don’t want to do. I’m taking your lead. And I actually have some ideas for the kids’ program. I think we should do a clay workshop with Isaiah. Kids love getting messy.”

I laughed. “I love that idea. Why don’t we meet next week? We can talk it out. I actually got some funding recently that will help.” I was finally going to put that trust my parents left me to use. And we were going to do a world of good with it.

“I’d like that,” Denver said quietly, then winced. “Did you see the article?”

I just smiled and shook my head. Sam Levine had gotten the scoop of the century. A reclusive artist, who turned out to be a younggirl who’d been hidden away in witness protection. But I’d give him this, he still wrote about the kids’ program and gave ways to donate. He even connected my past with my need to give children that outlet. It had made the checks and online contributions pour in.

“It could’ve been worse,” I told him. “And honestly, it’s nice not to have to hide anymore.”

And that was true. There was a lightness to me I hadn’t had before. No looking over my shoulder. No wondering if someone was staring for too long. I was free.

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