I wait until the middle of the night to leave. I know he deserves better, but I don't trust myself to actually walk away if I have to do it face-to-face.Carefully, I pull away from the circle of his arms. His breathing is steady and deep, and he hardly even stirs as I quietly slip out of bed. I gather my few things and quickly dress. I've been debating whether or not to leave him a note, to tell him where I've gone and why. It feels less cowardly, somehow, to write him a message, even if I'm still sneaking away while he's asleep.I pause next to the bed, looking down at him. He looks so big and strong, even when he's asleep, but there's a slight softness about him, too. It's that softness that makes my heart ache now.Against my better judgment, I lean down over him, brushing my lips softly against his brow."Goodbye," I whisper.Then I sneak quietly out the bedroom door.I make it about ten paces before I first have to fight the urge to turn back. But I place my hand on my bell

Very quickly, my life falls into a pattern again - work, sleep, chores around the house, errands. After the first week, people seem to realize that I'm not on the cusp of a breakdown, and many of them begin to acknowledge the baby. Men hold doors open for me, women ask how I'm feeling, and I receive a couple of anonymous gifts on my doorstep - a bundle of hand-me-down baby clothes, tied up in a soft blanket, and a few care-worn books about pregnancy and baby care. I feel a tinge of heartache at the sight of the books - they remind me of the ones on Rafe's desk - so I set them aside for the time being. There's still plenty of time to come back to them later.See? I tell myself on the ninth day after my return. You don't need him. You already have all of the support you need right here. I rub my hand across my softly rounded belly. We'll make it, sweet one. One way or another.I can almost believe that, at least when I'm awake. Every morning, when I fall into my bed to sleep, I dream o

"You fucking bastard," Rafe says. His back is rigid, his hands clenched. In the back waistband of his jeans I see the handle of a gun, and I'm both shocked and relieved to see that he has one, too. But it does him no good tucked away like that. If he moves a muscle, Matt might shoot him where he stands."I tried to do this the nice way," Matt says, "but you wouldn't listen to reason.""What do you want?" Rafe asks. "More money?"Matt shakes his head. "No. We're past that.""Then why the hell won't you leave me alone?""Because you fucked me over. And when you fuck me over, I fuck you over."The panic is threatening to take over me again. Rafe is in trouble. Matt clearly has no intention of negotiating anything. If anything, it's beginning to sound like he lured Rafe out here to murder him. I can't let that happen - but what can I do, bound and gagged like this?I don't have many options. But all Rafe needs is for Matt to be distracted for a second or two - just enough time to re

I learn a few things in the ride to the hospital: first, that we're somewhere in southern Idaho. Second, that Rafe was in Las Vegas when Matt contacted him to tell him he had me."Don't ask me about Vegas, please," Rafe begs me. "I haven't exactly been coping well since you left me. And for the love of God, don't read any of the tabloids that come out in the next week."And I'm okay with not knowing. This time.He stays with me at the hospital, holding my hand the entire time. Now that the immediate danger has passed and I've calmed down a little, I'm not as worried about the baby. I can't explain how I know, but I sense that he or she is still safe and sound inside me. Just perhaps a little stunned by the whole ordeal.You're okay, sweet one, aren't you?Rafe isn't nearly as confident. His grip on my hand is like iron, and he's gone at least two shades paler since we entered the hospital. Like the last time, he barks at both the doctors and the nurses, demanding to know why we ar