“Babe. Come eat.”

Deacon turned in his chair on the back patio. “Smells great. My gut’s been rumbling since you put the sauce on.” He stuffed his phone into his shorts pocket and stood.

She leaned on the doorjamb, her hair half down in one of her messy braids that she was forever bundling her hair into while she cooked. The cornsilk strands never stayed that way long. He moved to her, coasted his palm down her hair, sliding his fingers in at the nape of her neck.

“Don’t look at me like that.”

He bent down to her, kissing her gently. “Like what?”

“Like I’m going to break.”

“You’re the strongest woman I know, Lawless.”

She curled her lip up in the cute little sneer that he loved and he kissed her again.

“Think you’re going to be able to eat?”

“So far so good.” She turned to go inside, looking back at him with an almost grin. “Evidently, tomatoes and cheese are on my good list so far.”

Surprised that she actually owned up to something regarding her pregnancy, he followed her inside. So far she’d been very careful not to even discuss it as something actually happening to her. More like it was something to deal with.

It made his chest ache every time.

After spending the last half hour reading articles on the first trimester, his head was spinning with information and symptoms that now made so much more sense. Her sensitivity during sex was something a lot of women experienced. Either they were about as excited to have sex as getting waxed, or they were pretty much insatiable, with a few different levels in between.

Harper was definitely on the hypersensitive side.

Holy shit, was she ever. The first few days of their honeymoon had been a lust filled haze. Not such a bad side effect. He’d quickly sidelined into research about sex and pregnancy because…well, he’d never had sex with a pregnant woman before. They hadn’t exactly been careful either.

Christ, they’d practically killed each other on a few of the rounds that first night.

But it was normal and they didn’t have to worry about that until much later in the pregnancy.

If they got there.

Deacon rubbed the heel of his hand over his breast bone, pushing that thought to the back of his mind. They were still figuring things out.

He scratched his neck, his beard just on the edge of unruly. Images from all the websites and videos were playing on a loop in his head. There were videos on positions to make it good for her for fuck’s sake. He didn’t even want to think about the pregnancy porn out there. But beyond that, there were do’s and don’ts by the truckload.

Harper got plates and put two slices on one, four on the other. When she put the two slices in front of him, he laughed.

“What?”

“Hungry?”

“God, yes.” She folded her foot under herself as she curled into her chair. She took a bite of her slice and chewed. “Food has tasted like crap for days now. I could house this pizza by myself.”

“Well, from what I’ve read, the food thing is pretty common. It’s usually followed by morning sickness though.” He lifted a shoulder. “Which you don’t seem to have.”

Harper’s gaze lowered to her plate and she started ripping at her crust, dunking it in the extra sauce that oozed from the cheese. “What else did you read?”

He took a bite from his pizza, moaning a little before chewing and swallowing. The woman could probably make cardboard taste like heaven. “Some smells might make you nuts. Could trigger a getting sick deal.”

“Great.”

“Yeah. Not great, but the good part is your super nose is evidently to make sure you’re not around toxins that could hurt the baby. So you kinda become the great baby protector instinctively.”

Harper stood, transferring one of her pieces to his plate before returning to the kitchen.

Shit.

Fuck. Would he do anything other than bungle this stuff? He crossed the room, finding her gripping the edges of the island.

He came up behind her and caged her in, covering her white-knuckled grip. “What’s wrong?”

“I’ve done nothing to protect this baby. What if I hurt her or him? I wasn’t doing anything right for the last few weeks. No sleep…” She took a shuddering breath. “Drinking,” she said on a hoarse whisper.

Deacon whirled her around into his arms, holding onto her tight. His chest constricted. They’d hit the tequila hard the other day. And they both had been enjoying her wine lessons that she’d been taking.

He’d never thought he’d be a wine drinker, but between the both of them, they were becoming quite the enthusiasts.

“Well, from what I’ve read…the wine deal has actually been added to a lot of doctor’s okay-to-drink lists.”

She sniffed. “Really?”

“Yeah.” He drew her over to the bed and pushed pillows up to the headboard. He sat down, scooting back until his shoulders were resting against it. He drew his phone out of his pocket and opened his legs.

She was gnawing on her bottom lip, frowning at him.

“C’mere.”

She crawled onto the bed, situating herself between his legs. They’d spent many a night on the bus like this and always ended up sliding down on either the couch or his bunk and falling asleep eventually.

He was hoping to do the same thing now.

He wrapped his arms around her, drawing her closer. Flicking his phone to life, he went to the last website he’d been reading. “This would be easier on our iPad, but I didn’t bring it.”

“More like Jazz confiscated it.”

Deacon kissed her temple. “Because Simon busted three of them now. Idiot.”

Harper scooted down, curving herself into the line of his body. “What am I looking at?”

“Evidently whatever I Google, I end up back here at this Parenthood site. And I read something about Fetal Alcohol something—”

“Syndrome.”

He nodded. “But only from prolonged alcoholism. Does that sound like us?”

“I can think of someone, but it ain’t us.”

Deacon sighed. He had to agree with her. In their circle there was a lot of drinking, but it had never really been their thing.

He rested his chin on top of her head and started reading aloud. He felt her slowly relax. She asked a few questions, but for the most part she just listened.

Eventually her head slid down to rest along his forearm and she grew heavier in his arms as sleep took her. He read until his battery died, loathe to move and wake her.

And finally his eyes grew heavy as well and he curved around the back of her. He pressed his hand to her belly, cradling them both in his arms.

* * *

Harper woke to a furnace behind her and way too many freaking lights on. She winced as her bladder made it known that rolling over wasn’t in her future.

She slipped out from under Deacon’s heavy arm and reached for the lamp beside the bed and quickly extinguished the light.

“Harper?”

“It’s okay. Go back to sleep.”

“Where are you going?” His voice was barely a rumbling whisper, coated in sleep.

“Bathroom.” She leaned down, coasting her fingers through his hair.

“’Kay.” He stretched out diagonal on the bed, kicking a foot out of the sheets before rolling onto his belly like he did when he was truly out. The man could take up a bed.

She went to take care of Mother Nature’s wake up call, coming back out to turn off lights as she went. The pizza was a lost cause so she left it on the counter for morning. Knowing Deacon, he’d eat it with his coffee. Her husband, the human garbage disposal.

With moonlight as her guide, she wandered around the little cottage they’d called home for the better part of a week. It held a lot of amazing memories and a lot of pain. She landed at the back door where the moon-washed pergola cut shadows against the cottage, slicing over Deacon’s form on the bed.

She should crawl back into bed with him and sleep. Her brain still felt fuzzy with the few hours down she’d managed. Restlessness chased that idea away. She’d end up tossing and turning until she woke him up. A flash of light caught her eye. Her phone lit up with some sort of notification. She crossed the room, snagged it out of her bag. The lure of the hammock, waves, and fresh air was too tempting to resist.

She’d just check emails to get her mind off things. Decisions that she didn’t know how to make left her brain feeling too big for her head. Between Deacon’s random avalanche of trivia about pregnancy and her own knowledge of the flip side of the coin, she was on information overload.

A shit ton of email didn’t help the overwhelmed feeling. So, for the first time in her life, she ignored work emails. Annie said she would take care of them while she was on her honeymoon. Instead, she clicked open stupid emails like US Weekly’s barrage of celebrity gossip. She let out a soft laugh at Simon’s smirky smile on the sidebar. Evidently their dear Simon had been seen out and about with some actress from a summer blockbuster movie. She actually wanted to see that movie. Uninterested in any of the other articles, she flipped back to her email.

Lost in Oblivion, Life in the Studio part 1.

She clicked on the video link and Jazz’s adorable face filled the screen. She babbled about songs, about the cool studio they were working in, and was pretty much a ray of sunshine with orange strips in her hair.

Harper missed her.

Missed talking and laughing with her. It was them against a gang of guys. They had to stick together.

Before she could talk herself out of it, she flicked open her starred contacts and called Jazz. If she didn’t answer, she’d just hang up.

“Oh man, you better not need bail money, Lawless.”

Harper gave a soft laugh that turned terrifyingly into a sob at the sound of Jazz’s voice.

“Holy crap. Harper? Are you okay? Is Big D okay?”

“I’m fine. I’m sorry, Jazz. I just needed to talk to someone and…”

“And I never sleep.” Harper heard rustling, the slap of computer keys, then a muffled voice. “Okay, mama. Tell me what you need.”

Harper hung her foot out and set the hammock to rocking. “I saw your video.”

“Yeah? It’s gotten a bunch of hits already, and the comments are blowing up.” Suddenly she stopped. “Somehow I don’t think you called to talk to me about my little video. Especially since you should be in prime naked time on your honeymoon. You only have two days left.”

“Yeah. Things are a little bit of a clusterfuck at the moment actually.”

“You guys don’t really fight. What happened?”

Harper turned her face so she could see the tide and the moon-soaked beach. Should she just blurt it out? She shouldn’t say anything. It sucked to get her caught in the middle of the whole thing.

“Stop overthinking and just tell me.”

“I’m pregnant.”

“Holy shit!”

Harper could hear her bouncing. Literally.

“Are you freaking kidding me? You guys are going to have a Mini D? Or a Mini H? Oh, man. That is so awesome. This is huge. Epic. Oh my God, I’m going to be the most amazeballs Auntie Jazz. Seriously. Do you have to be Catholic to be a godparent?”

“Jazz—”

“And wow. Seriously. You guys are going to be the most perfect parents. Can’t you see D with those big hands holding on to a little baby? And hair…holy crap, between the two of you, this kid is going to be all hair.”

Harper closed her eyes, unable to stop the flow of tears. That had been the one thing she kept blocking herself from doing. To actually see Deacon with a baby in his arms. For such a big man, he was nothing but graceful and gentle.

“Did you figure it out before you guys left?”

Harper sniffled. “Yesterday.”

“Oh, wow. So are you like, yacking your guts out on your sex-a-thon vacation?”

“No, actually. I’m having a creepy aversion to most foods, but no upchucking, thank God.” Well, except the one time at the bar, but that had been more about the horrifying realization that she’d drank so much the night before.

“So are you guys excited? Man, I’d be excited. Well, maybe not about the manster child growing inside me. Damn, girl, your guy is not tiny.”

Harper slid her hand over her flat belly. Jazz was right. Deacon was not a small guy. The baby would be part her too—if she kept it.

“You’re really quiet, Chef Girl.”

“The timing on this isn’t the best, Pix.”

“What do you mean?”

She heard the honest puzzlement in Jazz’s voice. As young as Jazz was, obviously with her, the thought of a baby overrode things like…God, do I keep it?

“You guys are going into the studio and will be touring right around the time I would have it.”

“Harper, we’re talking about a baby, not an it.”

She hadn’t allowed it to be a baby. It had been so much easier that way. It was a problem to solve. And now…suddenly the baby was far more real.

Deacon’s voice was in her head from earlier. That the embryo was the size of a comma. That he or she would be just starting to develop. In two more weeks, the baby would be so much more.

“We—I was thinking that maybe it would be best to wait.”

“You want to have an abortion?”

The word was so final. So loud and accusatory in Jazz’s normally sweet voice. And then Harper bowed her head. Jazz had been a foster child. Shit.

Stupid, selfish idiot, Harper Lee.

“We don’t know what we’re doing yet. We just got married. I never thought I’d be pregnant at twenty-three.”

“Right.”

Jazz’s voice was so soft. Harper wanted to rip her damn tongue out for hurting this girl. Even unintentionally.

She wanted to be excited like Jazz. She wanted to do cartwheels and be planning baby showers and rooms and figuring out names. And maybe she would be like that if they’d actually planned and talked about it.

But they hadn’t.

And she didn’t know how to feel. She couldn’t match up the emotions with the huge wall of fear and dozens of what ifs.

“I don’t know what to do,” Harper whispered.

“What has Deak said?”

Harper felt the slide of tears down her temples as she focused on the star-strewn sky above her. Anything not to break down again. Because she really didn’t know what Deacon wanted.

And she knew that was her fault.

He was taking his cues from her. And she was so completely a hot mess. Deacon only knew how to be the support guy. When had he actually ever demanded something from her?

Well, besides the caveman routine to get her to marry him. But that had been sweet and romantic in his way. And she’d loved that he’d taken charge like that. She’d never tell him that, of course. Secretly, she’d loved it. To know that he was so very certain.

It had helped make her more certain.

Maybe that’s what this whole situation was missing.

Her rock was flailing just as much as she was.

“I’m going to say something and it’s only because I love you guys so much. I know it’s none of my business. Not really.”

“I wouldn’t have called if I didn’t want your input, Jazz.”

“Good. Because you’re going to get it.” Jazz took a deep breath. “This might not be planned. And I know we’ve talked about this over a jug of sangria a few times…but this whole crazy whirlwind you have with Deacon. It might be just your thing. Plans have their place. And sometimes the cosmos, or fate, or God, whatever you want to call it…sometimes it has other plans.”

Harper set the hammock to swaying again. “Maybe it does. I never thought this crazy life would give me Deacon.”

“Maybe fate is giving you a family now because it’s time. Not the one you planned, but the one that is perfect for you in the end.” When Harper didn’t immediately respond, Jazz cleared her throat. “Just a thought.”

“I think I needed to hear that. Thanks, Jazz.”

“Whatever you decide to do, you’ve got me in your corner.”

“You’re pretty amazing, you know that?”

“You got that right, mama.”

“Oh, and Jazz?”

“Yeah?”

“I hate to ask—”

“You don’t even need to. Your secret’s safe with me until you’re ready to tell the masses.”

“Did I mention you’re amazing?”

“You may have.” She laughed, and the pure light of Jazz happy filtered through the phone.

Harper said her goodbyes and pressed her phone to her chest. She watched the stars for a while, rocking herself into a calm that she hadn’t felt in days. As the sky lightened and the stars lost their pinpoint luster, she finally stood and returned inside.

She slid into bed, immediately comforted by Deacon’s warm body. Instinctively, he curled around her, and their joined hands covered her stomach.