The Love Islands Collection. Jane Porter

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      Georgia was able to have a visit with her son—he was small, but, as Nikos said, he was perfect in every other way—before the nurses whisked him back to the neonatal unit, where they were keeping him warm and under close supervision.

      Georgia had dozed off but was awake again, trying to sort out how she felt about everything.

      So much had happened in such a short period of time that it was difficult to separate her feelings from the facts, as well as the drama.

      She’d missed Nikos when she’d been on Amorgós. And when she was in pain, and trouble, all she’d wanted was Nikos at her side.

      She didn’t want to raise a child on her own. She hadn’t agreed to be a donor and surrogate to become a single mother. Nikos would be a good father, too. A very devoted father.

      How could she take the baby to Atlanta and raise him there?

      Even if Nikos agreed to go to Atlanta and share parenting responsibilities with her in America...how would that really work? And was that the right thing for any of them?

      Georgia couldn’t picture Nikos in Atlanta. It wasn’t just because he was Greek—he was a man that needed his sea and his sky and his space. She couldn’t imagine him in a city or even a suburb of Atlanta. But why was she worrying about what he needed? Why did she care?

      Because she did care.

      Because she loved him.

      No matter how the baby had been conceived, it was their baby, and it was their responsibility to figure this out, sort it out.

      She didn’t know why Nikos had fallen in love with Elsa. She didn’t know why Elsa wasn’t happy with Nikos. She didn’t know about Ambrose or any of it, and, to be honest, she didn’t want to know.

      She didn’t want all the details. It wasn’t her relationship, and she wasn’t part of that bit of history. She had her own history and her own struggles and her own dreams.

      She’d been happy with Nikos...blissfully happy during that month after they’d been to Amorgós, and before she’d found the photo on her laundry.

      She’d wondered about the photo appearing on her folded laundry, and she’d wondered if someone had put it there to hurt her, and then she’d dismissed the thought as irrational.

      The door to her room opened, and a head appeared. “Is this Georgia Nielsen’s room?”

      Georgia’s eyes widened, and she struggled to sit up again. “Savannah!”

      Savannah grinned and closed the door behind her. “Up to having a visitor?”

      “Oh, my God, yes. What are you doing here?”

      Savannah rushed to her sister’s side and hugged her fiercely. “I missed you!”

      “I missed you, too.” Georgia hugged her sister back, shocked and yet delighted. “When did you get here? How did you get here?”

      Savannah sat down on the edge of the bed. “Nikos flew me over with Mr. Laurent. That Mr. Laurent is a cold fish, but Nikos is lovely.” She took Georgia’s hand, gave it a squeeze. “How are you feeling? Better?”

      “I feel fine. A bit sore. But that will pass.” She squeezed Savannah’s fingers. “So you’ve met Nikos?”

      “And the baby. He’s delicious.” She grinned. “Well, they’re both delicious. I hope you’re keeping him.”

      “The baby?”

      “No. Nikos. I know you’ll keep the baby. I didn’t know how you were ever going to give him up. But Nikos. He strikes me as a little complicated, but you’ve always liked a good challenge.”

      “He’s more than complicated. He’s a disaster. He picked me to be the donor because I look like his dead wife.”

      “Yes, I’ve heard all that, and seen the photos. Mr. Laurent had some copies of the newspaper articles reporting her death—so tragic—but she didn’t help herself any, getting pregnant with another man’s baby and then trying to blackmail Nikos.”

      “Wait. What?” Georgia dragged herself into a more comfortable sitting position. “Slow down. Say that again.”

      “From what I gather, she never loved Nikos. She only married him for his money. She and her Greek boyfriend—he’s a fisherman on a neighboring island—planned it from the beginning. She’d marry Nikos, accuse him of abuse or neglect and then divorce him and get a fat settlement that they could live on. But Nikos wouldn’t divorce her, and then she revealed she was pregnant, and Nikos vowed to take care of her and the baby, but she didn’t want to be with Nikos. She didn’t want to raise a baby with Nikos. She didn’t even want her Greek fisherman boyfriend. She just wanted to go home, back to Oslo.” Savannah’s shoulders lifted and fell. “It’s crazy and sad and awful, and I can see why Nikos wanted to have a baby via a surrogate. I wouldn’t want a relationship after that. Would you?”

      “But I fell for him, and I thought he cared for me.”

      “I think he does. I am sure he does.”

      “What makes you think so?”

      “He brought me here to see you.” Savannah smiled at her. “And he gave you custody of the baby, too, which has to mean that he trusts you, and respects you...and believes in you.”

      Georgia exhaled slowly. “I have such a headache. I hurt. I’m not sure how I feel.”

      “About him?”

      “I love him. I’m just not sure how this would work...or if we can even make it work.”

      “You don’t have to know everything today, do you? Maybe you both just need to take it a day at a time until you know what you want to do. Personally I find snap decisions to be bad decisions.” Savannah gave her hand another squeeze and then slid off the bed. “I’m going to go check on my nephew again, and see when they’re going to be bringing him back to you. In the meantime, you’ve a big guy out in the hall, pacing like a caged tiger. Should I send him in, or let him keep pacing and scaring all the nurses and doctors?”

      Georgia laughed. “Send him in. We don’t need him frightening the hospital staff.”

      And then he was there in the doorway, watching her from across the room, a look in his dark eyes that she couldn’t read and that made her chest squeeze tight.

      “Why do you look at me like that?” she whispered, her mouth suddenly dry. She had to lick her bottom lip to keep it from sticking to her teeth.

      “How am I looking at you?”

      There was so much emotion in his eyes, so much worry, too. His worry made her heart ache and turn over.

      “You look at me as if I’m something wonderful,” she whispered.

      He made a rough sound in the back of his throat. “Because you are.”

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