I grip the sides of the shiny porcelain, begging God for a quick death. I already know it won’t be painless. My temples throb and the gagging continues. I’ve lost count of the number of times my head has been stuck in a toilet bowl today. Keeping anything down for the past week has been impossible, so what the fuck else can possibly come up? Timing couldn’t be worse, and the last thing I want is to be photographed tossing my cookies all over the red carpet. I’m wearing Valentino, for Christ’s sake.

A soft knock at the bathroom door startles me from my prayers. “Tatum, are you okay in there? Do you need anything?”

I let out a moan, since it’s all I have the energy to do at this point. Long blonde curls spill over my shoulders, dangerously close to the water, but I don’t give a flying fuck. My stylist, on the other hand, would have a stroke on the spot if she saw her masterpiece face-first in a toilet. I try to lift my head, but it feels like it’s filled with cement, and I allow it to fall back onto my arm. I’m comfortable here. I think I’ll just stay here for the rest of the night.

In my fucking Valentino gown.

The knob turns and the door creaks open.

“Tate?” Jules pads into the bathroom, shutting the door behind her. “How are you feeling, sweetie?”

I crack open an eye. “I’m dying. And it ain’t gonna be pretty. Just a friendly warning.”

“Don’t be such a drama queen. There are no cameras in here, pumpkin.” She cocks an eyebrow, tapping her fingernails on the granite countertop. “Ready?”

I take a deep breath and pull myself into a sitting position. I nod because I’m afraid that if I open my mouth, I’ll need an emergency wardrobe change. Strangely enough, in the seconds following, my stomach is the most settled it’s been in days.

Jules walks over to the Jacuzzi tub and picks up the pregnancy test sitting on the ledge. It’s been there for a whopping three minutes. One hundred and eighty seconds since I peed on that stick. I had my head stuck in the toilet for a hundred and fifty of them.

Back in Hawaii, when I’d been my incognito alter ego, slutty Lila, I’d been so anxious to get rid of my entourage that I packed up my entire suite to speed up their departure. I’d done such a thorough job that I sent Louise with my birth control pills. I’d missed two days’ worth by the time I got to the movie shoot.

Once I’d realized my oversight, I panicked and called Ellison Reed, one of my sorority sisters from the University of Maryland. Since she’s a pediatric surgeon, I figured she could give me some idea of what the hell I should and shouldn’t be doing while I was touring Europe to promote my movie. She gave me the rundown of what I could do to ease the nausea, as well as the name and number of the best ob/gyn in southern California.

When I told her I didn’t know for sure I was pregnant, she snickered over the phone line. “You can’t act your way out of this one, Tate. It’s time to embrace reality.”

I didn’t say anything to Jules until I got back. I’d spent the better part of the past week dodging in and out of tiny European bathrooms, doing press conferences in between hurling episodes. Denying the truth any longer was futile, but I didn’t want to tell anyone until I knew for sure, especially Evan.

It’s still so new, and even though he spent more than half of the past six weeks away with me, he’s got his own life to deal with. Now that he’s back on the surfing circuit, endorsement deals are rolling in, and his star is finally taking off. To think he might not be excited about this makes tears spring to my eyes.

Jules gasps and covers her mouth, sinking to her knees next to me. “Oh my God!” she whisper-shouts.

The tears threaten to fall and I let my head fall back, blinking as fast as I can to keep them from destroying my eye makeup. Jules sniffles and grabs a tissue, dabbing at my eyes. “Don’t you dare fucking cry, Tate. I can’t put you back together!”

My lips quiver, but I can’t keep the smile from stretching across my face. “It’s positive.”

“It’s positive!” Jules gives me a tight hug. “We’re going to have a baby!”

“Shhh!” I hiccup and groan. “Good God, that tasted horrible. I need to brush my teeth again.”

Jules helps me to my feet. “How do you feel? Can you make it?”

I take a deep breath and grin at her. “I actually feel better right now than I have in days.”

She hands me my toothbrush and the toothpaste and gives me a wink. “Great. Then hurry your hot little ass up and get downstairs. Your prince awaits. And so does that Oscar.”

My prince. I peer at my reflection and the silly grin on my pale face.

It’s going to be a big night for both of us.

I manage to fix myself up without having to kneel before the porcelain god yet again. I smooth the front of the mermaid-style gown. Thank God I was able to squeeze my rapidly growing ass into it. My boobs are practically popping out to say, “Hello, world!” That was my first clue. Huge, swollen, achy boobs.

I grip the banister and slowly walk down the spiral staircase. Evan is standing in the center of the grand foyer. My mouth actually waters as I rake my eyes down the length of his body. He’s wearing a classic black tux and his dark hair is slicked back. I want to tell him so badly, to make that smile on his face permanent, but it’s not the right time.

He meets me at the foot of the stairs, and his fresh, clean scent teases my nostrils. Fortunately, it’s a welcome one, since we really don’t have time for me to make yet another pit stop into the bathroom. “Tate…” His fingertips graze the side of my face. “You’re breathtaking. Absolutely stunning.”

I can feel a hot flush creep up the sides of my face. “Thanks. You look pretty incredible yourself.”

He holds out his arm and I slip mine into it. Jules is standing by the door with a huge grin on her face. “I’ll meet you guys there!”

Evan leads me toward the car, taking slow steps over the cobblestones lining my driveway. He knows me too well. The driver opens the back door to the black Bugatti Chiron sedan, and I slide into the plush leather seat, with Evan right behind me.

“Are you sure you feel up to this?” He laces his fingers with mine, shooting delicious tingles up my bare arms. “I know it’s a big night for you, and I want you to be able to enjoy it.”

I lean my head back against the cushion and smile. “Trust me, I will.”

Evan’s ringtone blares from inside of his tuxedo jacket and he grabs the phone. “Hey, Mike. What’s up?”

Mike is his new agent. Now that he’s such a hot commodity on the surfing circuit, a lot of sponsors are clamoring for him to be the face of their products. Athletic gear, nutritional products, energy drinks – everybody wants a piece of Evan Montrose. The added exposure is great for his charity organization, too. Donations have been pouring in, and he’s had to hire a few more people to handle all of the activity. But the kids are thriving, and that’s his top priority over everything, which makes me love him even more than I’d thought possible.

He’s getting everything he deserves, and I couldn’t be prouder of what he’s accomplished.

A tiny nagging feeling swirls in my gut as I listen to his animated conversation with Mike. I’ve convinced myself he’ll be as excited as I am about this baby, but what if he’s not? His career is about to rocket into the stratosphere, so is he going to want to give it all up to become a daddy? I twist the cap off a water bottle and take a tentative sip, not knowing what effect the seemingly innocuous liquid may have on my queasy stomach.

“Ok, I’ll give you a call in the morning. We’ll set something up for this coming week. Take care, Mike.” Evan stabs the End button on his phone. “Three more sponsors want to invest in SurfsUp. I can’t believe how far we’ve come in such a short amount of time.”

“Evan, that’s amazing.” I trace a fingertip down his arm, praying that the theater is close. Wooziness has already set in, and if I don’t get on solid ground soon, my head will be out the window. “I know how much those kids mean to you. This will be so wonderful for them. Think of all the kids you’re going to help with that money. I’m so happy for you.”

“So happy for us. You’re the one who inspired me to screw my head on straight, Tatum. You made me realize what’s important, what I’d been missing in my life, what I’d given up. We found each other in Hawaii for a reason, baby. We’re a team now.”

Yep, a rapidly growing team. I nod, tears springing to my eyes once again. Shit, are my hormones already whacked out? I could sit here and bawl like a child right now. “I love you so much.”

He leans forward, his soft lips grazing my forehead, then my nose, and finally my lips. “I love you, too,” he breathes. “More than you will ever know.”

The car comes to a stop. The driver twists around and gives me a wink. “Ready, Ms. Atwood?”

I manage a watery smile. “Yes, thanks.” Seconds later, the door opens to exploding flashes of light, shrieking fans, and snapping camera shutters. Evan hops out of the car and bends down, hand held out. “It’s time, beautiful.”

I quickly glance down at my cleavage. Okay, the girls are sitting tight in there. No immediate risk of a wardrobe malfunction. With a deep breath, I step onto the red carpet, hand in hand with the love of my life. We take a few steps toward the theater, smiling and waving at all of the exuberant fans who’ve traveled here to celebrate this night, and my heart has never felt so full.

“Tatum! How about a kiss for the camera?”

I stop and smile at the photographer, and then I lean in toward Evan, my lips grazing his ear. “I’m pregnant.”

He recoils, his bright blue eyes wider than I’ve ever seen them. My stomach clenches, and for a second, I fear my plan backfired and he’s going to bolt. But when the smile that stretches across his lips rivals the bright white bursts of light blasting around us, it’s pretty clear he’s staying exactly where he is. “Are you serious? How is that possible? I thought…”

“I may have forgotten to take a pill. Or two.”

“I love you so fucking much, Tate.” He lets out a huge whoop and lifts me in the air, his arms tight around my waist. Suddenly, my feet are back on the carpet. “Oh, shit. I’m sorry.” His hand grazes my belly. “Is it okay?”

I giggle. “Yes, silly. It’s not like you flipped me upside down or anything.”

“You’ve almost just made me the happiest guy on the planet.”

“Almost? Seriously? What the heck else could I do to make you the happiest?” I narrow my eyes. “Just so you know, I can’t really do much else in this dress.”

“You can tell me you’ll marry me.” His dimple deepens.

I gasp. “Are you sure? You’re really asking me…here on the red carpet? You don’t have to do this. I didn’t tell you about the baby because—“

Evan falls to one knee and reaches into the pocket of his jacket, producing a tiny velvet box. “I was saving this for later, but fuck it. I don’t want to wait another second. Tatum, will you marry me?”

He flips open the box and I clutch my chest. Late afternoon sunlight hits the glittering facets of a huge princess cut diamond, and my jaw damn-near hits the carpet. “Yes! Oh my God, a million times yes!”

The crowds go wild, screaming, applauding, and hugging each other. Love brings out the best in everyone, I guess. The ring slides onto my finger, a perfect fit, just like Evan and me. He stands up and pulls me close, crushing his lips against mine, dipping me backward to add a little dramatic flair for the cameras before we finally head into the theater for the show.

And with sudden clarity, I realize I don’t need a statue to tell me I have it all. I already know it.