“Yeah, crying’s going to make a difference,” she berated herself. “That’ll do the trick, all right. It’ll change everything so when you look at that stupid test again the damn stick will read: Why no, Hayley, you’re not pregnant. You just needed to sit on the toilet and bawl for ten minutes. Idiot.”

She sniffled back what felt like another flood of tears and faced herself in the mirror. “You played, now you pay. Deal with it.”

A quick makeup session helped. The sunglasses she grabbed out of her purse helped more.

She buried the home pregnancy test boxes in the bottom of her underwear drawer, jumpy as a drug addict hiding his stash.

When she went out, David was already halfway up the stairs.

“I was about to get my bugle.”

She stared at him. “What?”

“To call the cavalry, honey. You were longer than fifteen.”

“Sorry. I got . . . Sorry.”

He started to smile and brush it off, then shook his head. “Nope, not going to pretend I don’t know you’ve been crying. What’s the matter?”

“I can’t.” Even on those two words her voice shook, broke. “I’m going to be late for work.”

“Somehow the world will keep turning. What you’re going to do is sit right down here in my office.” Taking her hand, he tugged until she sat on the steps with him. “And tell Uncle David your troubles.”

“I don’t have troubles. I’m in trouble.” She didn’t mean to tell him, to tell anyone. Not until she had time to think, to deal. To bury her head in the sand for a few days. But he draped an arm around her shoulders to hug her, and the words leaped out of her mouth.

“I’m pregnant.”

“Oh.” His hand stroked up and down her arm. “Well, that’s something my secret horde of super chocolate truffles won’t fix.”

She turned her head, pressed her face to his shoulder. “I’m like some sort of fertility bomb, David. What am I going to do? What the hell am I going to do?”

“What’s right for you. You’re sure now?”

Sniffling, she boosted her butt off the steps, tugged the stick out of her pocket. “What’s that say in there?”

“Mmm. The eagle has landed.” Gently, he caught her chin in his hand, lifted her face. “How are you feeling?”

“Sick, scared. Stupid! So damn stupid. We used protection, David. It’s not like we were a couple of lust-crazed teenagers in the back of a Chevy. I think I have some sort of übereggs or something, and they just spit on barriers and suck the sperm in.”

He laughed, then gave her another squeeze. “Sorry. I know it’s not funny to you. Let’s calm down here and take a look at the big picture. You’re in love with Harper.”

“Of course I am, but—”

“He’s in love with you.”

“Yes, but—Oh, David, we’re just getting started on that. On being in love, on being together. Maybe I let myself imagine how it might be down the road some. But we haven’t made any plans about the long-term. We haven’t talked about it at all.”

“That’s why sooner comes before later, honey. You’ll talk now.”

“How can any man in the world not feel trapped when a woman comes up and tells him she’s pregnant?”

“You manage to get that way all by yourself?”

“That’s not the point.”

“Hayley.” He drew back, tipped her sunglasses down her nose so he could look into her eyes. “That’s exactly the point. With Lily, you did what was right for you, and what you felt in your heart was right for the father, and for the baby. Right or wrong—and personally I think it was right—but either way, I think it was brave. Now you’ve got to be brave again, do what’s right for everybody concerned. You’ve got to tell Harper.”

“I don’t know how. I get sick thinking about it.”

“Then you might love him, but you’re not giving him credit for being the man he is.”

“I am, that’s the trouble.” She stared back down at the stick and the word in that window seemed to scream in her head. “He’ll stand up. How will I know if he did because he loves me, or because he feels responsible?”

David leaned over, kissed her temple. “Because you will.”

IT ALL SOUNDED good. It sounded reasonable, logical, and adult. But it didn’t make it any easier to do what she was about to do.

She wished she could delay it, just ignore it all for a few days. Even pretend it would go away. And that was small and selfish and childish.

When she reached the nursery, she slipped into one of the employee bathrooms to take the second test. She glugged down most of a pint of water, turned the spigot on for good measure. She started to cross her fingers, but told herself not to be a complete ass.

Still, she read the results with eyes squinted half shut.

It didn’t change the outcome.

Well, still pregnant, she thought. There was no crying this time, no cursing fate. She simply tucked the stick back in her pocket, opened the door, and prepared to do what needed to be done next. She had to tell Harper.

Why? Why did he have to know? She could go away now, she thought. Pack up and go. The baby was hers.

He was rich, he was powerful. He would take the child and toss her aside. Take her son. For the glory of the great Harper name he would use her like a vessel, then rip away what grew in her.

He had no right to what was hers. No right to what she carried inside her.

“Hayley.”

“What?” She jolted like a thief, then blinked at Stella.

She was standing among the shade plants, surrounded by hostas green as Ireland. Yards away from the restroom.

How long had she been standing there, thinking thoughts not her own?

“Are you all right?”

“A little turned around.” She drew in a long breath. “I’m sorry I’m late.”

“It’s all right.”

“I’ll make it up. But I need . . . I have to talk to Harper. Before I get started I need to talk to him.”

“In the grafting house. He wanted to know when you got in. Hayley, I wish you’d tell me what’s wrong.”

“I need to talk to Harper first.” Before she lost her nerve, or her mind.