logic and discipline—to act, not react.

Her world of pasted-on piety and people pleasing is about to end. And if she thinks for one moment I’m not going to be a dad to my child, she can think again.

Matt heard Isabella’s laughter in his mind as he thought of being a daddy and he was back there. Her giggle permeated the hospital floor as he rounded the corner into her room. Her eyes popped big and bright as she noticed Matt. “Doctor Matt, come see what Mama bought me.”

She held up a doll with big blue eyes just like hers. Matt could see that the hair had been cut back to show only a tuff of peach fuzz.

Isabella had a stethoscope around her neck and proceeded to go through the same motions Matt had done to her a million times.

“I’m a mama now. I have to be brave and strong to look after baby Destiny. She needs me.”

Matt reached up and wiped the tears from his eyes. That memory reminded him of what Isabella had taught him—something he had not known about himself—he wanted to be a dad. There was something very special about the unconditional love of a child, and now that gift lay before him. Nothing could keep him away.

As much as Matt’s initial reaction sent him reeling, he wasn’t a man given to anger. He hurt more than he cared to admit, but there was a piece of him that understood the fear and shame Anna would have faced, and his responsibility in the situation.

A sheer determination to know and love his baby set in. At thirty-five, where he had once thought the prospect of fatherhood lost to him due to other priorities, excitement flooded in. Sweet Isabella had changed everything. The joy that child had given him lit a fire within.

Even if Anna had nothing to do with him, she would have to get used to the fact that he was the father to her child, and nothing was going to stop him from being a loving father.

Matt had little time to lose. Anna was due in a matter of weeks, and he wanted to be present when that baby was born. He planned to hold his child in the first moments of life and never let go.

He climbed the steps to her front porch, rang the doorbell, and waited.

The door swung open, and the blood drained from Anna’s face. Her skin turned chalky white, yet her cheeks flamed red. Her lips parted but no words came out. He felt both sorry for her and vindicated all in one kaleidoscopic minute.

“Anna,” he said firmly. “I do believe we have a pressing matter to discuss.” Staring pointedly at her midsection, he entered without permission. He looked her squarely in the eyes, took the door from her white-knuckled hands and closed it. He moved across the foyer to the living room and took a seat.

She slowly followed and eased her body to the couch. Seated on the edge, rim rod straight, she clasped and unclasped her hands over her large abdomen.

He could see the sheen of sweat on her brow and the way she nibbled at her lower lip.

“Nice to see you again, Matt,” she said, as she placed one hand over the other to still the shake that had taken over her fingers.

“Actually, I think you’ve gone out of your way to avoid seeing me.”

“Why would you think that, Matt?”

“That’s our child you carry, Anna, and what I’d like to know is—when were you going to tell me?”

For a split second, the anguish in her eyes appeared bottomless until she arched her brows questioningly and pasted on her fake smile.

“Our baby, Matt? No, you misunderstand. It’s … it’s Steven’s.”

“Don’t lie to me, Anna. We both know only too well what condition Steven was in.”

“You don’t know anything.” She rose, indignation on her face. “Miracles happen,” she said pacing. “So, don’t come in here assuming you know what went on in our private life.”

He put his hand up. “Enough Anna.”

She spun around, and stopped.

“I’m positive the child you’re carrying is mine. I’d stake my life on it. There is, however, DNA testing if you want to carry on with this lie.

She turned and faced him. He could see the play of emotions flood across her face from anger—to fear—to a tired surrender.

A groan of despair slipped from her lips.

“Yes, Matt, the child is yours,” she whispered. She turned away and back again. “I was so scared and felt so ashamed. Now all I’ve done is make matters worse.” Her eyes stared blankly into the distance. Tears filled her eyes. One broke free and a stream followed.

“I don’t expect you to forgive me, but I’m sorry … so very sorry.” Her words subsided as great sobs racked her frame.

He stood, not sure what to do, and then threw caution to the wind and pulled her shaking form into his arms. They stood silently in the warmth of the other. He was careful not to draw her too close, and he could tell she was equally careful not to let him. The baby kicked. Matt felt the movement against his torso.

“Is that what I think it is?” He pulled back and looked down.

She nodded and reached out for his hand.

His heart slammed against his chest at the mere touch until she placed it firmly on her stomach. Movement danced beneath his splayed fingers. He laughed in delight.

“Wow, an active one.”

Their eyes met.

A giant knot caught in his throat. “Why didn’t you tell me, Anna? Didn’t you believe that I would help you? Didn’t you think I would care to know my own child?”

She shuddered, and moved apart.

“Oh Matt, it’s not you, it’s me! My life is so complicated. I … I never told the world that this baby was Steven’s, everyone just assumed it was. I was wrong to let them believe that lie, but I knew the truth would hurt my sons, my in-laws—”

“It didn’t matter that

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