Page 140 of Diego

I straighten slightly. “I’m fine, thank you very much,” I say a little primly.

His eyes move over my face again, more carefully this time.

“I’m fine,” I repeat, although with less conviction now that he is studying me like he expects evidence to the contrary. “I had a rough patch earlier. It passed.”

Diego takes another bite of pizza, watching me over the crust.

Something about that makes me pause.

I think back over the day. The showing. The nausea. The dizziness. The quick stop afterward for lunch and the bottle of Pepto-Bismol I grabbed from the store before my next appointment.

My eyes narrow.

“How the hell did you know that?”

He merely takes another bite of pizza.

“Diego,” I warn.

My eyes widen, and my mouth drops open at the realization.

“Are you having me watched?”

He swallows and merely looks at me, not looking remotely guilty.

I stare back.

“You're having me followed?” I drop my piece back into the box and jump up to pace. “I cannot believe you!”

“Of course I am.”

He says it as if I have just asked whether gravity still exists.

I stare at him.

For several seconds, I genuinely do not know what to say.

“Why?” I finally say.

His expression shifts to one of confusion. “Because you’re pregnant with my child, Blair.”

The answer knocks some of the heat out of me, but not enough.

“You could have asked me.”

“And your response would have been…?”

“So you thought you would just do it without asking, or even telling, me?”

He exhales and sets the pizza back in the box.

“I wasn’t trying to invade your privacy.”

“But you did! Someone watching me go into a store and buy Pepto-Bismol is clearly invading my privacy,” I say incredulously.

His expression stays maddeningly composed. “It's for protection.”

“Diego, you cannot just assign security to me without telling me.”