As their bedroom door opened, Tally glanced back into her room and beckoned to her husband. He walked onto the balcony and pressed a soft kiss to her neck.

“There you are. I was worried when you didn’t come back down. Emmalee okay?”

“So so.”

Cash sat beside her and threaded their fingers together. “It’s tough for them both. I wish there was something we could do.”

Tally turned her head, studying his expression. Smooth, no signs of annoyance or irritation. She took a deep breath. He’d given her an opening, so she might as well go for it. “What if there was something we could do?”

A frown drifted across his face. “What do you mean? Like provide a reference for adoption agencies? Because, sure, I’ll write as many as they need.”

Her heart hammered against her ribs and her insides turned over. Now the time had come to tell him what was on her mind, Tally wasn’t looking forward to it one little bit. She didn’t regret making the offer to Em, not for a second, but Cash had always been a complicated man, and how he would react to this was anyone’s guess—including hers.

She nibbled the inside of her cheek. “Not that.”

“Oh no,” Cash said. “You’re gnawing on your face, which means you’re worried. Come on, sweetness, spit it out.”

She paused, looked directly into his eyes, and set her jaw. “What Jayne said before about surrogacy—”

“I know, right,” Cash said, interrupting. “What kind of woman would put herself through that without the reward of a child at the end of it?”

The swirling in her stomach turned into a tornado, sweat coated her palms, and her mouth dried up. “Your kind of woman,” she managed to force out.

Cash scratched his cheek, his brow furrowed in confusion, and then his eyes widened. He wrenched his hand from hers. “You have got to be fucking kidding me.”

Tally gripped his arm. “Hear me out before you go postal.”

Cash clambered to his feet. “Hear you out? Fuck no. I don’t need to hear anything because you’re not fucking doing it.”

He spun around and stormed back into their room. Tally dampened her dry lips and got up to follow him. She closed the balcony doors behind her. No one else needed to overhear the row that was about to kick off, big time.

Cash was pacing, his hands stuffed deep within his pockets. Every few steps, he’d pause, flash a furious glare her way, then continue to wear out the oak flooring.

“Sit down, Cash. You’re making me dizzy.”

He stopped long enough to poke a finger in her direction. “You are not going to carry someone else’s child. I absolutely forbid it,” he said, then set off pacing once more.

Rage tore through her. She was used to Cash’s dominating personality—his alpha male status had never been in question. She’d become an expert in managing him over the years, but even he knew better than to straight out tell her she couldn’t do something.

She planted her hands on her hips. “You forbid it?”

“Yes,” he said, his hand trembling as he raked it through his hair. “I fucking forbid it.”

“Good luck with that,” she snapped.

“Why?” he asked, staring her down, his grey eyes swirling with fury. “Why would you even consider this?”

She sighed and folded herself into a chair. If he wouldn’t sit down and talk about this calmly, she’d have to lead by example. “Because she’s more like a sister than a friend. I know how amazing it is to hold your own baby in your arms, to watch them grow and develop their own individual personalities, to dream their futures right alongside them. To love a child and to experience unconditional love in return. I want her to have that.”

He snorted. “Except she wouldn’t, would she? It’d be your kid. You’d be carrying and giving birth to it.”

“But I wouldn’t be raising it. Biologically, it would have nothing to do with me.”

“Are you honestly telling me that you could carry a baby inside you for nine months, feel it move, watch your body change to accommodate it, go through the agony and the fucking scary shit of childbirth, then glibly hand it over and go get yourself a fucking facial?”

“Don’t do that.”

“Do what?”

“Reduce this to something menial. I’m not stupid, Cash. I know what this would involve.”

“Really?” Another snort. “And what are you going to tell Darcey and Cian? You know, our actual kids? How will you explain this to a nine and seven-year-old?”

She laced her fingers behind her neck and blew out a slow breath. Tally wasn’t surprised at his reaction, and she didn’t blame him but, when Cash got like this, he was impossible to talk to. She readied herself and tried again. A little emotional blackmail could go a long way.

“She’s devastated, Cash. I just want to help her. Please try to understand. At least promise me you’ll think about this before dismissing it out of hand.”

He sighed heavily, then came to sit beside her. “Do you remember how scared I was when you went into premature labour with Darcey? How I freaked out at the thought of losing you? And don’t trot out that your pregnancy was fine with Cian, because it won’t wash.”

Tally caressed his face and he caught her hand, pressing it to his cheek. “I hear you, Cash. Really, I do. Em said the same when I spoke to her, but—”

She realised her faux pas too late. His eyes widened, and a nerve appeared in his cheek, beating furiously—never a good sign with her mercurial husband.

“Wait just a fucking minute. Are you telling me that you’ve already talked to Emmalee about this?”

She nibbled on her bottom lip. “Only briefly because—”

Cash launched to his feet, his anger evident in the reddening of his face and the dangerous glint in his eye.

“You are fucking unbelievable.”

Tally stood and made a grab for his arm. “Listen to me.”

He stepped away from her reach. “No. I won’t goddamn listen to you, not about this. How could you? How could you mention this to Emmalee before talking to me first? Jesus, Natalia!”

With a final glare in her direction, he stomped across the room, wrenched open the door and slammed it shut behind him.

Tally sank back onto the couch and covered her face with her hands.

Well, that went swimmingly.