Not theatrically.
Almost sadly, as if regret were something she had known for a long time but preferred handing to other people.
Then she walked away.
Her heels sank slightly into the wet grass with every step.
I watched her disappear through the fog, and only after the door of her car closed did I realize I had been holding my breath.
Damon came back to me.
“Emma.”
I looked up.
He extended his hand.
I hesitated before taking it.
His fingers closed around mine, steady and warm, and he helped me to my feet with such careful restraint that my eyes unexpectedly filled with tears. I was tired enough that kindness felt dangerous. One gentle gesture and every defense I had spent years building began to loosen.
“I’m taking you to a doctor,” he said.
“I don’t need—”
“Yes,” he interrupted softly. “You do.”
I almost argued. Pride rose automatically, familiar and useless.
Then the baby moved beneath my hand.
A small flutter.
A reminder.
Not just me anymore.
“All right,” I whispered.
Damon’s gaze lowered briefly to my stomach, then returned to my face. There was wonder there, quickly hidden. Grief too, though I did not yet understand why.
As he guided me toward the cemetery path, I looked back at my mother’s grave. The daisies were ruined. Mud streaked the stone. My throat tightened.
Damon followed my gaze.
“We’ll come back,” he said.
I did not ask how he knew I needed to hear that.
At the car, a man with silver hair opened the back door. His expression was kind but unreadable.
“Hospital or private clinic, sir?” he asked.
“Dr. Vale,” Damon said. “Call ahead.”
The man nodded.
I stopped before getting in.
“I can’t go anywhere with you.”
Damon turned to me.
“You can.”
“No.” My voice came out stronger than I expected. “You don’t understand. I work for the Caldwells. I live in the staff room over their garage. My things are there. My papers. My mother’s photographs. If Vanessa gets back before I do, she’ll throw everything away.”
A muscle moved in Damon’s cheek.
“What papers?”
“My birth certificate. Medical records. A lease application I’ve been filling out.” I swallowed. “And the ultrasound.”
His eyes changed at that.
For one second, something unguarded crossed his face.
“You have an ultrasound?”
I nodded.
“From last week.”