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Elliot wanted to himself into a ball in the closet and hide. The day Jared’s body was found, it was all anyone had talked about. While the island was abuzz with chatter, Elliot hid away in their cottage, refusing to leave the bedroom; terrified police were coming to drag him away from Alexander.

Then, nothing.

No one came for Elliot. The buzz around the island died down. No one questioned Elliot or even Duck and Goose. Things returned to normal, although nothing about the situation seemed normal at all. Two months later, Elliot still felt stuck, like a dying man awaiting his final breath.

Elliot paced the room, frightened, but refusing to let the fear claim him. He had a call to make. It wasn’t a call he wanted to make, but after spending two months on Sugarplum Island with Alexander Davenport, Elliot’s baby bump swelling wider and wider, he knew there was no choice. Honey was due in less than a month, and Elliot had no idea how to deliver her. Alexander had made calls—using his financial status to pull favors—but they were still waiting to hear from the creationists at the other automaton centers. Mother was the only one who dared create hybrids, and considering she was probably at the bottom of the ocean, Elliot didn’t put much stock in her being able to help.

Staring at the phone Alexander gave him a few days after arriving on the island, he tried to hide his emotions. Elliot had to go directly to the source; the phone rang twice before a frazzled-sounding Clarence answered. “Ms. Broussard’s Home for Bountiful Beaus. Clarence speaking, how may I help?”

Elliot took a deep breath and released it slowly. “Clarence, it’s Elliot.” He knew there were other Elliot’s out there, so he clarified, “Elliot Price. Well, soon to be Davenport, but still.”

Silence. It stretched all the way from Sugarplum Island to his childhood home in New Orleans.

“You have quite the nerve calling here after what you pulled. Do you know how long I spent searching the sea for Mother? Do you, Elliot?”

“I don’t,” Elliot admitted, and then small flickerings of unfamiliar emotions ignited in his chest. He couldn’t place them, only experience them, so that’s what he did. He let the confusing waves of regret and relief rush through him. “Were you able to locate her?”

“She plummeted into the sea in the pitch dark. What do you think?”

Elliot winced as if the words slashed him. He knew Mother’s potential survival could—and would—complicate things for him, but Elliot didn’t want her to die. His freedom meant everything, but he didn’t want her life to be the cost.

“I’m sorry,” Elliot whispered. “I didn’t mean for her to—”

“Let me just stop you right there, son,” Clarence said. “Our home is in chaos. Beaus are running amuck because of your actions. And that woman . . .” He paused, sighing. “I do not have time to ease your guilty conscience. What do you want?”

“What woman?”

“Just tell me what you want,” Clarence demanded, ignoring Elliot’s question. “Are you calling to inform me you’re coming for us next? Are you going to set our family home ablaze in the middle of the night? Honestly, Elliot, you’re unhinged. What’s next on your diabolical agenda?”

Elliot sniffled. “My baby. I don’t know how I’m meant to give birth. Jared had all the paperwork in his home, and I can’t go back there.”

“No, I don’t imagine you can. Not after what you pulled.”

“I know, Clarence. But I don’t know how to deliver her, and I’m worried she won’t survive if I can’t get her out. I just need to know what to do. Did Mother leave any documentation in her office? Was she—”

“Master Price,” Clarence practically shouted, making Elliot’s hand shake. “You killed my mother, so I don’t care what happens to you or your child. I don’t have the luxury of extending sympathetic words of condolence. I can barely keep my head above water as it is. Now, if you have nothing else to say, I’m—” Clarence sucked in a sharp breath. “Dear God, that woman has lost the last of her waning mind. I’m sorry, Elliot, I don’t have time for this.”

The call ended, and it felt like every ounce of hope he’d been holding onto vanished. He put off calling Mother’s home because he knew there was little-to-no chance of her survival. The longer he held off, the longer he could pretend she was in her luxurious Louisiana mansion, actively forming plans for his capture.

Now she was officially gone. She was gone, and he could no longer count on the love and support of his brothers back home. Elliot may have gained a life with Alexander Davenport, but he lost everything else in the process, and his family lost their matriarch.

He wiped the tears from his eyes and slowly rose from their bed. Alexander was already gone, having offered to do the shopping down at the island’s market. Making his way to the closet, he resisted the familiar urge to curl up and hide, choosing instead to stand as tall as his body would allow. To keep his chin raised and eyes ahead, not like a submissive beau. Not as the battered and beaten victim of Jared Price’s cruelty. He would soldier on until he could no longer do so.

Elliot selected the same outfit he always selected on Mondays, Tuesdays, and Fridays; a pair of stretchy khakis, a pink polo shirt, and a pair of comfortable flats. Once dressed, he styled his unruly waves into something somewhat presentable, grabbed his phone, and headed out, not locking the door behind him.

Elliot loved how safe the island felt. Aside from the rake incident during his last visit as Jared Price’s live-in punching bag, no one had a cruel word to say to him. He was building a life for himself, and he refused to see that life taken for granted. His fear would have to wait.

He walked into Twylah’s Sugarplum Treats two minutes before noon. The black-and-white checkered floor still sparkled from when he mopped the night before, despite Ms. Twylah’s insistence that he have a seat and elevate his feet. In the display cases were the many treats Ms. Twylah and Elliot made; his offerings were still sloppy as ever, but if Ms. Twylah was to be believed, he was getting better, and that was what counted.

“Good morning, sugar,” Ms. Twylah sang out as she looked up from a still-steaming tray of cookies. She grabbed a set of tongs and meticulously arranged the cookies on a platter. “What’s got you down in the dumps?”

Elliot cocked his head to the side. “Pardon?”

She pointed at her eye. “The blue lights in your eyes. They’re flashing like crazy.”

“I’m fine.” Elliot didn’t enjoy lying, but he didn’t want to voice his fear. He didn’t want to give it a name, because doing so would make it real.

“You’re not,” she said, placing one leftover plum jam cookie on a napkin and setting it on the counter for him. He shuffled forward, his swollen ankles aching along the short journey. When he reached the counter, he took a bite of the cookie and purred like a kitten. Ms. Twylah’s treats never failed to put a smile on his face. They were always warm and gooey, and tasted like Christmas.

“I don’t wish to dwell on my upset. I want to be distracted.” He looked over her shoulder. Behind Ms. Twylah, there were three other trays of pastries that needed to be placed on display shelves. He wasn’t sure he wanted to work in the front of the bakery, though. With his melancholy mood overtaking him, Elliot believed he’d rather work in the back, baking delicious—though terribly unattractive—sweets for the citizens of Sugarplum Island. “I’m aiming forward.”

“You’re aiming for a kiss on the cheek for being adorable. That’s what you’re aiming for.”

Elliot blushed. For the past month, Elliot had been working side-by-side with Ms. Twylah. It had been one of the high points of his life. He felt he’d finally forged a family of sorts. Daily, Elliot came alive. He made friends with the locals, but more importantly, he made friends with his future mother-in-law.

Elliot rubbed his baby bump. He was so ready to meet his child. He was ready to hold her in his arms and swear his undying protection. But how could Elliot protect her in a world where he couldn’t even protect himself?

“You’re frightened, aren’t you?”

“Frightened of what?”

Ms. Twylah placed her hand on Elliot’s belly. “Being a parent. Raising her.”

“I want her very much,” Elliot argued, but Ms. Twylah was right. Elliot knew nothing of life. He’d never been around children before. Most parents kept their offspring at arm’s length from the ‘big, scary robot,’ as he’d heard some parents refer to him. He wasn’t sure how to raise a child, and he agreed with Alexander that Mother’s book was essentially filler with vague, deeply misogynistic themes. There were no instructions for feeding their child. No tips or pointers for teaching them right from wrong. What if Elliot mucked it all up and ended up raising a future warlord, hellbent on bringing about the end times? That was, if he could even get her out of his tummy to begin with. For all Elliot knew, she could be forced to remain there, growing larger and larger, pleading for relief through the window to his womb. He had to do something. He had to figure something out.

“Sometimes,” she said, squeezing his shoulder, “we have to face our fears to ensure the health and happiness of our children. I believe in you, Elliot. I believe you can do this. And if you’re ever in a bind, I’m right next door. You can just call out for me and I’ll be right over.”

“I don’t believe you would hear me, but I can certainly try.”

Ms. Twylah beamed at him. “Sweetie, you have a tendency to leave all your windows open.”

Elliot nodded. “I enjoy the sea-scented air..”

“What I mean is, I can hear practically everything that happens in your home, so I’d be able to hear if you shouted.”

Elliot tilted his head. Because if she could hear their conversations, what else had she heard? “You don’t eavesdrop, do you? Because that’s not very polite.”

She rolled her eyes, grabbed a cookie from the platter, and chomped down. With purple jam coating her teeth, she mumbled, “I don’t have a choice,” sending flakes of her cookie flying from her mouth. Swallowing, she dabbed a napkin to the corners of her lips. “I wish Alexander Sr. and I had as active a love life as you boys do.”

Elliot’s eyes bulged. “Good Lord.”

She nodded. “Yep. I’ve heard you scream that one a few times, but ‘Oh, God-Oh, God-Oh, God’ seems to be your go-to, though.”

Elliot took a step back and pointed his finger at her accusingly. “Starting tonight, we will be shutting our windows, and you and I will never speak of this again. Is this understood?” His cheeks were warmer than ever.

She lifted her hands in surrender. “If you insist.” Turning, she focused on the cooling cookies, but as Elliot walked into the back room, she sang out, “Oh, God-Oh, God-Oh, God.”

As embarrassing as the situation was, he enjoyed having a mother figure of sorts who he didn’t need to mince words with, and who didn’t demand he conducted himself like a traditional househusband. He was free to be himself, and he felt like he was finally figuring out who he was.

He poked his head out through the door, making eye contact as he said, “If you attempt to humiliate me again, I’ll shout it twice as loudly tonight.” He made it three steps into the back room before pausing, worried. Poking his head through the doorway again, he spotted Ms. Twylah still staring toward him as if his reappearance was inevitable. “I’m only teasing. I wasn’t actually threatening you.”

“Goodness gracious.” She placed her hand on her cheek, feigning surprise, but her palms were coated in powdered sugar, so it ruined her makeup. She groaned, but didn’t let it stop her, adding, “Well, you really had me fooled.”

She wasn’t teasing him. She was saying it to lift his spirits. He wondered for a moment if this was what parenthood entailed. If it wasn’t just untidy homes and a constant whirlwind of mess and chaos. Because the look she was giving him felt parental, and he knew if his daughter ever made a tit of herself the way Elliot just had, he’d do the same. He’d put on his brightest smile if it meant making sure she never felt like a fool, no matter how foolish she had been.

“I’m rather fond of you, Ms. Twylah,” he admitted.

She winked at him. “And I’m rather fond of you, Elliot.” She pointed into the back room. “Now go on, sugar. Go bake us something splendid to sell.”

As he rolled dough for a pie crust—one of the first things Ms. Twylah taught him when he started working for her—Elliot let the woman’s words settle in his soul. He memorized the memory of her expression. He reminded himself that a parent pushes past their fear to ensure the safety of their child.

Later that night, Alexander arrived to walk Elliot home from his shift at the bakery. Though there were no automobiles on Sugarplum Island, Alexander purchased a small golf cart at the insistence of Mayor Beau Rivera. They’d been in contact several times since the young mayor made it home. But Elliot hadn’t heard from Mrs. Peppercorn in ages, but that was to be expected. She had her own surrogate son in Periwinkle Price. His needs needed to come first. They still chatted on the phone two times a week, but it wasn’t the same. Thankfully, Alexander insisted they return to Genevieve once Honey was born. They would need to introduce her to the woman she was named after.

As the golf cart carried them home, Elliot snuggled against Alexander’s side. “Have you heard back from the other automaton homes yet? About Honey’s birth.”

Alexander sighed. A truly tragic sound that hit Elliot like a physical blow. “I’m sorry, baby. I’m still waiting to hear from two more of the homes, but no one seems to know anything.” He reached down and squeezed Elliot’s knee. “I swear, we’re going to figure it out. I’ve got my best men on it.”

Elliot nodded the same way he did when he had the country’s most prominent engineers visit Sugarplum Island. Alexander was on an indefinite leave from his company, and Elliot had felt nothing but guilt for days about it. Then the ferryboat arrived, bringing with it the best of the best. After days of poking and prodding and searching Elliot’s source code, none of the men could figure out how he was meant to deliver the child.

They were running out of time, and Elliot knew he would need to act.

“We need to return to Louisiana,” Elliot whispered, placing his hand on top of Alexander’s.

Alexander stopped the golf cart in the center of the small road leading through town. “You can’t be serious. Elliot, you’re in hiding. If they find you—”

“They will power me down and incinerate me. I’m aware.” He released his hold on Alexander’s hand and stroked his stomach. “If we do nothing, I don’t know what will happen to her. It could harm her. She could be smooshed by my bones as she grows. We have to do something.”

Alexander swallowed, but Elliot didn’t think he’d been able to swallow down his apprehension. “Let’s wait until we hear back from the other two homes, and if we still don’t have an answer, I’ll hire a helicopter to get us there.” He leaned closer, kissing Elliot gently, cupping his cheek when they broke away. Their foreheads touched, and butterflies fluttered in his stomach. “I’ll hire a team of men to go with us.”

Elliot arched an eyebrow. “Why?”

“For safety.” He stroked Elliot’s belly. “No one gets to take you from me. No one gets to touch you. I won’t allow it.”

Elliot’s smile widened, and the warm and fuzzy feelings the butterflies in his tummy provided seemed to ease a bit of his worry. He kissed Alexander again, longer that time. When the kiss was through, Alexander’s hand softly caressed Elliot’s belly, and Elliot placed his hand on top, melding them together.

“If something happens to me, I need you to promise to look after her. If they take me from you, don’t let them take her, too.”

“Nothing’s going to happen to you. I promise,” Alexander said. While Elliot enjoyed the sentiment, he didn’t need to be placated. He needed assurance. Alexander must have realized his words hadn’t soothed Elliot the way he’d hoped, because he turned his hand over, weaving their fingers together, and added, “If anything happens to you, I’ll keep her safe. I’ll raise her the way we’ve been planning to. Honey will be fine. You have my word.”

Though the threat of removal from Alexander Davenport’s life hung over their heads like a rain cloud, Elliot refused to let it damper their time together. They snuggled in bed while watching old episodes of I Love Lucy . Elliot loved the way she could get herself into the biggest conundrums, only to solve her nightly dilemmas within a thirty-minute timeframe. He wished his problems could be solved in under half an hour.

There was movement in his belly. Acting on impulse, Elliot lifted his shirt, his heart fluttering as color drained from the skin of his stomach, revealing their ever-growing daughter. She was asleep, and Elliot basked in the look of complete peace stretched across her face.

“There’s our girl,” Alexander whispered, leaning in to kiss Elliot’s see-through stomach. Behind the baby, machinery worked inside Elliot, keeping his body functional. “She looks happy, doesn’t she?”

Elliot observed her for a while, taking in the way her little fingers curled around her umbilical cord. Her other hand was lifted to her face, and she was sucking her thumb. Elliot couldn’t remember ever witnessing anything as adorable as Honey Davenport lounging in his belly.

“She looks very happy,” Elliot finally agreed.

Honey’s eyes opened slowly, and pink lights flickered in the corner. She removed her thumb from her mouth and pressed her hand against Elliot’s tummy, never breaking eye contact. Elliot touched his hand to hers, only a thin layer of processed skin separating them.

“I love you very much,” he whispered. “I can’t wait to hold you.” Honey smiled, nuzzling her face against the place where Elliot’s hand was resting, leaning into her father’s touch. Her eyes closed, and color returned to Elliot’s skin, hiding her away. He didn’t want the color to return. He wanted to stare at her. To study her expressions for hours, so he knew them all by heart.

Alexander turned off the television and hugged Elliot close to him, promising, “You’re going to be an incredible father, Elliot.” He rubbed Elliot’s tummy. “We’re going to figure all this out, and then we’ll start our lives together.”

Elliot sniffled, missing the connection with Honey already. “We haven’t talked about what we’ll do next. Our living situation, I mean. I know Duck and Goose live here to keep them safe from Mother, but do you plan to do the same with me? Will you live on the mainland and visit once a week?” Elliot’s lip trembled. He didn’t want that. He wanted them to be together. Always. “Your entire life is in Dallas.”

Alexander shook his head, cupping Elliot’s cheek. “My entire life is right here in front of me.”

“But, the company,” Elliot argued. “Your family legacy—”

“This is my legacy,” Alexander interrupted, his words firm but filled with love. He wasn’t reprimanding Elliot for speaking out of turn, he was making a choice. He was making an unbreakable oath. “You’re my legacy. You and Honey.” He kissed Elliot gently on the lips, his thumb brushing back and forth against Elliot’s cheek. “Would you like to live here? My place back home is a lot bigger, but this village feels like the right place for us, doesn’t it?”

Elliot nodded. “It’s my favorite place in the world.” Professor Plum climbed up his arm and rested on Elliot’s tummy, staring up at him. “Are you ready to meet her, too?”

Professor Plum nuzzled his face into Elliot’s chest. He knew the fieldmouse and Honey would be fast friends. Professor Plum had always been a gentle soul, so Elliot had no fear of how he would treat their baby. He reached forward and stroked the top of the fieldmouse’s head.

“We’re going to be fine,” Alexander said before turning off the lamp on the nightstand. “No matter what, we’re going to be okay.”