But then Vienna would have one of her bad nights, the ones where she got lost in the past, thought Win was thirteen again, woke up screaming—and then struggled to find energy to do anything the following day.
Win strove not to let her sadness affect her health. She worked hard to eat in a nutritionally sound manner to support her baby’s growth, while not allowing herself to gain more than the bare minimum of weight. Luckily, she was tall, and her long torso made it easier to hide her pregnancy, even into the beginning of her sixth month. She’d hired a personal trainer who worked with prenatal clients to develop an exercise program and a personal shopper to help choose clothing that would hide her condition.
“There’s so much to buy,” Andrea went on, sitting primly on one of the tailored chairs in Win’s dressing room. She’d be at the gala tomorrow night, too.
Maria, fussing with the gown, a ruffled affair Win had chosen to hide the curve of her belly, snugged it around Win’s waist, then pulled back. She looked up, and when Win met her gaze, her eyebrows lifted. Win sent her what she hoped was a stern “don’t say a thing” look. This was why Win had tracked down Maria instead of using her mother’s tailor. Maria was the sister of Win’s old nanny, Rosa, and Win knew both women could keep a secret.
“Just a few adjustments,” Maria said and got to work with some pins.
Win smiled gratefully at her.
“There’s the baby furniture for one thing,” Andrea went on, not noticing Win’s distraction. “And all the baby clothing. I’m buying mine in Europe next month, you know. You can’t get anything decent here.” Andrea smoothed a hand over her own barely rounded belly.
God, she missed Angus so much. Missed the way he worked beside her in the greenhouses, making jokes to pass the time. Missed the way he held her hand every time they walked together. Missed the rumble of his voice in her ear when he whispered sweet nothings before they said good-night to each other.
Someone rapped on the door.
“Come in,” Win called.
One of her ever-present bodyguards, standing watch outside in the hall, opened it, and Vienna came in, supported by her maid, Elise. She meant to put in an appearance at the gala, too, which Win thought was a bad idea. She was still far too delicate, and it wasn’t clear yet whether she’d need more treatments.
Vienna was tall, like Win, but much too thin, dressed in a sharp black pantsuit that proclaimed she meant business, even if she was far from back to normal. Her cheekbones were too sharp. Her eyes too bright for Win’s comfort.
“Leif is coming to the gala,” she announced.
“Leif?” Win’s heart lurched. Her mother couldn’t mean to try to—
“Just warning you,” her mother said. “Though if you were smart, you’d get back in his good graces. He’s spent the last four months in Europe, and his parents want him home. They’re pushing him to marry; a wife and kids would convince him to stop his roaming. You know you broke his heart when you broke off your engagement.”
“Mom,” Win said warningly.
“He’s a far better match for you than that farmer ever was.”
Win lifted a hand to her throat, as if somehow she could smooth away the lump forming in it. Angus was so much more than that farmer to her. She couldn’t let her mother know that, though.
Before she’d returned home, Win hadn’t realized how much Vienna hated Base Camp, but now she realized it was a minor miracle she hadn’t brought the full force of the family’s influence to bear on shutting it down. Win suspected it was Martin Fulsom’s billionaire status that had kept her in check. Base Camp’s backer had a fortune that dwarfed her parents’, much to Vienna’s chagrin.
She prepared herself to ward off a further attack, but Vienna pulled out her phone to answer a call.
“Then there’s the decorator’s bill,” Andrea said as if no one had interrupted her. “The wait list fees for private schools. My personal trainer,” she added. “So important. There are the extra hours for the housekeeper, the laundry bills, the stylist’s fee—my baby will definitely be in style, thank you very much. And of course there’s the nanny. You know we’re building an extra wing for her. There’s no way we could fit anyone else in our little house as it is now.”
Had Maria just snorted?
Win wasn’t sure, but the seamstress wouldn’t be out of line if she had. Andrea’s little house was over ten thousand square feet, with four outbuildings at last count.
Angus would be shocked.
Win closed her eyes. Angus would never know. If—no, when—she talked to him after the show was over, he’d be far too angry for chitchat. They’d sort out a visitation schedule. She’d try to explain—
“You know, getting back together with Leif is a great idea,” Andrea said suddenly. “You could get pregnant, too, and our babies could be friends just like we are!”
She was never getting back together with Leif, and she doubted he wanted to, either, even if he didn’t know she was carrying another man’s child. When she’d split up with him, he hadn’t done much to win her back. “Are you sure?” was all he’d asked on the phone. “Vienna’s going to hit the roof. So’s my dad,” he’d added glumly.
At the time she’d thought his tepid reaction was a great reason to forge ahead with living at Base Camp.
Despite herself, Win pictured the bunkhouse, everyone gathered for a meal, chatting and joking the way they did at the end of a day. She pictured Angus handing her a plate, encouraging her to eat up so she had the strength she’d need when they got alone together.
Pictured being with Angus.
Her mother
