After Dark (The Night Owl Trilogy #3)(74)

“Well, you are. You’re a regular heroine, in my book. Make sure he teaches you to ride that horse, because I want to see you on it—jumping fences, fending off doctors, throwing yourself like Pocahontas onto ungrateful men.” He hugged me and kissed my cheek. “Where is that ungrateful man, anyway?”

“In the library.” I cringed. “On the phone with Chrissy.”

“Oh, Lord. Really?”

“Really. He gave me this fire-and-brimstone speech about how she must not get an abortion and—” I covered my mouth. Oops. I’d momentarily forgotten Nate’s Christian status.

“It’s fine, Hannah. I’m also a doctor.” He took a swift stride toward the steps, then stopped. “No … I suppose I won’t interfere.”

“Probably a good idea. He’s…”

“Being a bit of an *?” Nate raised a brow. He swore so rarely that when he did, I had to laugh.

“Exactly.”

“Then he really is feeling better. Listen, I’m packed already and I got myself a hotel for the night. I’ll fly out tomorrow or Thursday. You two have put me up long enough.”

“Oh…”

“Yes. You both need this place to yourselves.”

A twinge of fear pinched my heart. For weeks now, we’d been a team, trying to help Matt—and though we argued more than we agreed, I would have been lost without Nate.

“What if he’s not actually better?” I fought the urge to grasp his sleeve.

“He’s coming out of it. I can see it. I’m a phone call away, and don’t forget Mike.”

“But you can’t just sneak off. He’ll want to say good-bye.”

“Oh, no.” Nate smiled. “He won’t.”

I watched him walk away and climb the stairs two at a time. The thick wedding band on his finger skated up the rail. My future brother-in-law. He truly felt like a brother now, after all that we had been through. I would be proud to call him my brother.

And there were things I wanted to ask Nate, with his unwavering faith—did we bring this pain on ourselves, did we deserve to lose Seth because we played a game with death?—but I think the time for those questions had passed.

He returned with his bags. I walked outside with him, we hugged again, and I watched his rental car roll into the dark, crunching and kicking up dust.

When I got back inside, I found the study door open.

I heard a loud thump, then a grating noise.

“Matt?”

“In here,” he called.

I peered into his room. He’d moved Laurence’s hutch to the door. All his weights were rolled into a clump on his exercise mat.

“Whatcha doing?”

“Mm, moving things. This room is ridiculous. Here.” He returned my cell and frowned. “Rather, not ridiculous. It was nice, having all my things in easy reach. Thank you…”

“You’re welcome. Any time.” I swallowed and touched his cheek. The words “in sickness and in health” passed through my mind.

For better, for worse. “Any time … ever, Matt.”

My eyes watered. I’d begun to hate my emotionality, and also to expect it. These, at least, were tears of happiness and relief.

He kissed me. I laid my hands on his chest and leaned against him.

“I want us to have an exercise room. You need an office. I’ll put my books in the library and Laurence, I think, somewhere downstairs. You know he likes to be centrally located, privy to all our comings and goings.”

“I think he’s been privy to too many of our comings.” I grinned.

Matt laughed and I soaked up the sound.

“I’ll make this into my office,” he said, “and we can go from there. Whatever you want. And a…” His arms tightened around me. “A room for the baby.”

Matt had tightened his arms with good reason. I jumped and tried to pull back.

“The … baby?”

“Your sister doesn’t want the baby.”

“I’m not following.”

“I’ve convinced her to have it … and I’m going to adopt it.” Matt’s tone cooled and hardened. He released me and walked back into the room. “She was very reasonable. She simply doesn’t want it. The whole situation is too painful for her, and she doesn’t want to be a young, single mother. Completely understandable.”

He moved books from the shelves into stacks on the floor. I had never, not once, heard Matt speak so sympathetically about Chrissy. My mouth hung open.

“And she doesn’t want to have an abortion. You see, she already…” He paused, lifting one of the small plush owls I’d put in his room. “Well, she felt it move. She’s giving it up for adoption. I’ll call Shapiro tomorrow and get the ball rolling, and schedule an appointment for an ultrasound. Sort out the … gender question.”

I braced my hands against the door frame. Oh, Matt was back, all right.

“Excuse me,” I said. “Do I have any say in this?”

“I thought you would be happy. I can see that you’re not.”

“Matt, this is … huge. This decision.”

“I’m well aware.” He brushed past me, carried a pile of books to the library, and returned. “I know we never properly discussed … all that. And I’m not asking you to carry a child. This isn’t about that.”