Her words, his warning—everything rang in her ears long after she’d brushed her teeth and slipped between the covers.
The shocking reality that history had well and truly repeated itself for another Beckett was so visceral it brought tears to her eyes. Goldie herself was the product of a one-night stand, conceived when her mother had been part of a charity’s volunteer group in Ghana and had fallen for the charms of a local businessman. But, unlike the men who’d followed, her father had tried to make it work, even moving continents to be with her mother.
Sadly, her mother had been unwilling to settle for being a wife and mother in a picket-fenced house. Gloria had believed there were bigger and better things out there for her. Her reluctance to give their relationship a chance had eventually driven her father back to his homeland, leaving her mother to fall prey to dreams that had never been fulfilled and a lifetime of being taken advantage of by unscrupulous men.
Goldie had always known in her heart that the lessons she’d learnt via her mother’s experience wouldn’t lead her down the same path. But one night’s wrong decision had led her here. Only this time she was the one being called unscrupulous. Avaricious.
She hated the tears that welled up in her eyes. Hated Gael in that moment for making her feel lower than she already felt. Because what had they created together other than a child who would hate her, and possibly its father too, for bringing it into a world where there was no chance of its parents ever being together?
Goldie knew how lonely and frightening things could get. Already she feared for her child. In light of Gael’s revelations about how he felt about his family, how could she not?
Her hand slid over her stomach as weariness and inevitability washed over her in equal measures. She didn’t have all the answers for how she was going to deal with what was happening to her. Far from it. But Goldie knew without a doubt that she would fight to her very last breath to make sure her child didn’t suffer an ounce of preventable pain or rejection. Just as she knew that if that
involved battling with Gael Aguilar she would bring the same fervour to the task.
With that resolution burning bright in her chest, she closed her eyes and willed healing sleep.
Her sleep was relatively peaceful. But twice she got up in the night to throw up. Twice she heard Gael prowling through the suite. Clearly her curse had worked, but she couldn’t take any joy in that. She shut her mind to it, concentrated only on making it to the bathroom and back to bed both times.
It was almost as if now her mind had caught up with what was happening in her body her baby was determined to make its presence felt one way or another.
She fell asleep just before dawn, her hand on her stomach, her mind whirling with a million thoughts.
Less than an hour later she was up. Determined to stick to some sort of routine, she donned the aqua-coloured bikini she’d used since coming to Durban, and threw a light matching sarong over it. Slipping her feet into gaily coloured sandals, she settled a wide-brimmed hat on her head and drew back the sliding doors to step out onto the private patio fronting her bedroom. Steps led down to the beach and the dramatic shoreline.
Pausing to breathe in the fresh air, she let her gaze drift past the iconic red and white Umhlanga lighthouse to the gleaming waters of the Indian Ocean. Seagulls flew overhead in the early-morning sun, and Goldie blanked her mind as she struck out for the quarter-mile walk along the shoreline.
Pregnant. She was pregnant.
She would buy a pregnancy test to confirm it as soon as she could, but even without the visual proof with each pulse of the word in her brain her breath caught. She reached the end of her walk and stopped to face the ocean, her mind spinning.
How would a child fit into her world? Where would they live? How would they live? How would her mother feel about being a grandmother?
How did Gael feel about being a father?
That question stood out above all the myriad hurtling through her head. It was also a question whose answer she knew she’d discover soon.
Swallowing, she raised her face to the warming sun’s rays for a minute, before shedding the sarong, hat and sandals and walking into the sea.
Swimming was blissful, as usual, but already she worried about what such active exercise would do to her baby, and gave up halfway through her normal lengthy swim. Collecting her things, she strolled back towards the side of the hotel. The first thing she needed to do, once she’d had a talk with Gael, was to dig up as much information as she could on how to keep healthy during pregnancy.
Once again she was assailed with a frightening but growing thrill over her impending future.
No matter what. She’d fight to her last breath.
Discarding her things on a lounger next to the private pool that served the presidential suite, she turned on the outside shower to wash off the salt water. She was washing sand from between her toes when she heard the hurried slap of bare feet.
‘Where the hell have you been?’ Gael demanded forcefully. ‘I was about to send out a damned search party.’
She turned, her gaze momentarily obscured by the water running down her face. Sluicing it away, she tilted her head back from the spray. He was livid, the chest beneath his white polo shirt rising and falling as if he’d run a marathon.
‘I went for a walk on the beach, followed by a swim,’ she said, fighting to keep her voice on an even keel. She needed to keep calm. For her baby’s sake.
‘Without bothering to tell me?’
‘I went for a swim yesterday too. In fact I’ve walked and swum every day since I got here. I do it before breakfast and before we go on location. Should I have reported to you then too?’
Fury blazed across his face as he stepped closer. ‘Don’t be flippant, Goldie. You know what I mean.’