Her Christmas Baby Bump

by Robin Gianna

  “Hope, please stop.”

  A hand grasped her upper arm, effectively slowing her down. She tried to yank it loose, to no avail. His grip wasn’t tight, but it was firm enough that she wasn’t going anywhere, and he led her off the pavement, between two buildings and into the shadows.

  “Hope, I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” He turned her toward him and pulled her against his wide chest, his palm splayed on her back, holding her close. “I’m so sorry.”

  She stood stiffly in his arms, not wanting him to offer comfort. Not wanting to accept it. Not from a man who’d slammed her twice now for how she’d decided to live her life, and yes, she might be flawed as a woman, physically and emotionally flawed, but, if she was blessed enough to have the IVF work and have a beautiful baby that was all hers, she’d do everything in her power to be the kind of mother she wanted to be. The last thing she needed or wanted was for a man like Aaron to doubt that she could.

  “Please let me go,” she said, keeping her eyes level to stare at his coat button. “I’m going to get my bike and ride home.”

  “Hope.” His big hand moved to her chin, lifting her gaze to his. It seemed there was shame in those brown eyes, a pain and remorse she thought she’d seen there before when he’d apologized, but it clearly meant nothing. It was lip service, nothing more, since he’d questioned her reasons, her choices, all over again. Probably, his “I’m sorry” were just words from a man who’d hoped to get her into bed one more time.

  “Pretty sure we already had this conversation once. Let me go.”

  “Hope, please listen.” His hand moved, gently cupping her cheek, and the intensity in his eyes pinned her with such fierceness she couldn’t turn away from it. “I’m an idiot. A colossal one. I didn’t have a right to question your choices before, and I sure as hell don’t now. Instead of opening my big mouth the way I did, sounding like I disapproved all over again, I should have asked you to share with me how you’re feeling about the IVF, if you’re worried or if there was something I could help you with.”

  “I’m not worried about the IVF.”

  “No, but your medical condition worries you. And I’m sorry I upset you enough to tell me how hard this has been for you when you hadn’t intended to share that. But while I am sorry, I’m also glad I know. I’m glad because, even though you might not believe it, I care about you.” His hand slid across the side of her neck to tangle in her hair, cradling the back of her head, his eyes and voice softening as he drew her close. “That’s really what this has all been about, even though I’ve shown it in a completely ass-backward way. I care about you and I can’t help but worry about you, but because I’m a stupid man, I don’t seem to be able to show that in the right way.”

  She stared into his eyes. Troubled, tender, full of that vulnerability she thought she’d seen before—all that emotion seemed to be right there in their brown depths. But she’d kidded herself about that before, hadn’t she? She didn’t know this man, not really, other than that he sometimes had a good sense of humor, was a great kisser and lovemaker, a caring person when it came to children without homes, and a great doctor.

  And a man who didn’t approve of single women having IVF, no matter what he was saying now.

  Before she could pull away, his mouth lowered to hers, as soft and sweet as his words. Maybe it was because her emotions were already raw, or maybe it was because there was just something about him that reached inside her, touching her in good ways and bad. But she realized she didn’t want to resist the kiss, to end it before it started, even though there were so many reasons she should. Her eyes drifted closed, and she gave herself up one last time to how he made her feel. Angry? Yes, that. But also wonderful. Deliciously aroused. Intoxicated with a kind of longing she’d never experienced in her life. A longing she’d believed she wasn’t capable of.

  His hands tightened, smashing her against his chest, and she clutched his shoulders and hung on. Let her fingers stroke his neck, slide up to curl into his thick soft hair, imprinting the feeling of every bit of it into her memory. Held his head still as she deepened the kiss, pulling a moan from his chest that seemed to reverberate through her own, shaking her heart. Until, somehow, she drew strength enough to separate her lips from his and pull away.

  “So,” he said, his voice rough, “is that a better way to show you, at least a little, how much I care about you? Help you forget all the wrong things I’ve said and forgive me?”

  She tried for a light answer, something that would end the moment on a good note. A truce. Something that would close this brief time they’d spent together with a smile before the wave goodbye.

  But she came up empty. As she let herself take in his features—his strong jaw, sensual lips, dark eyes she seemed to fall right into, all of the beautiful package that was Aaron Cartwright—the truth hit her like a blow to the solar plexus.

  The tingle of her lips, the pounding of her heart, the way it felt perfectly right to be held close against his big body, were all proof that what she’d worried about for years was true.

  There was something wrong with her. Really wrong. In all the years with George, in all the dates she’d experienced since, she’d never once felt the way she did with Aaron. Never had felt tempted to enjoy a fling the very first night she’d met someone. Never thought about a man all the time, never felt a heady, sexual pull every time he was near, never had a vision of a forever after that somehow felt absolutely right.

  And the only time in her life she did? It was for a man who was a self-proclaimed rolling stone. A man who never stayed in one place very long, and who had zero interest in any kind of long-term relationship, especially a wife and children that would tie him down.

  Was she the kind of woman only interested in a man she couldn’t have? She’d never have dreamed that, but clearly she’d been deluding herself.

  “I care about you, too. And while the things you’ve said hurt me, I figure some of it must come from your own pain. Your childhood in foster homes, even though you haven’t said much about that. So I forgive you.” She sucked in a fortifying breath, pressed her hands against his chest and took a firm step back, and the arms holding her close fell away. “Now we can close the chapter on our fling as friends. Thanks again for helping with the fruit. Goodbye, Aaron.”

  Somehow, she managed to put on a smile and stuck out her hand. Without returning her smile, Aaron looked at her hand for a long moment before he slowly engulfed it with his own. The smoky heat in his eyes faded to the seriousness she’d seen an awful lot of that day, and she found she couldn’t look at it for another second.

  She yanked her hand loose and practically ran out of the shadowy crevice they’d been standing in, praying he wouldn’t follow her as she hurried the few blocks to her bicycle. But apparently he knew there was nothing else to say, because there was no voice behind her, calling her name this time. No hand grasping her arm to stop her.

  Time to get her life back to its safe, steady track. Incomplete in many ways, yes, but hopefully a new addition would bring it closer to complete. Her heart and life would be filled to overflowing, which would be a very good thing, since right at that moment it felt all too sadly hollow.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  “CONGRATULATIONS,” AARON SAID, shaking the new father’s hand. “Those are two beautiful baby girls you have there.”

  “Aren’t they?” The man beamed. “Thank you for everything, Dr. Cartwright. We...we wouldn’t have our daughters if not for you and can’t tell you how much we appreciate it.”

  “Yes, thank you,” the mother said with a smile overflowing in joy. “I’d shake your hand, too, except mine are a little full right now.”

  Aaron managed to smile back, but it was an effort. Looking at the blonde woman in the hospital bed, cradling a baby in each arm, made him think of Hope. Wonder about the babies she’d have, and if they’d favo
r her or their unknown sperm donor. Thinking how beautiful she’d look holding them in nine months if her own IVF treatment went well.

  Her treatments that were about to start later that afternoon.

  His gut tightened, feeling a little queasy, and he barely managed to eke out another smile as he gave his best wishes to the family and left the room, heading to his office for the rest of the day.

  “What time is my first appointment?” he asked Sue, who was manning the front desk. He could have looked at the schedule himself, but didn’t want to see Hope’s name on Tom Devor’s patient list.

  Except he’d already snooped days ago. Maybe it verged on unethical, but he’d had to know. Then wished he hadn’t looked, because the damned date had stuck in his brain, disturbingly nagging at him all week as it grew closer.

  And now the day was here.

  “One-fifteen,” Sue said.

  When she looked up at him, her smile turned to a small frown and he turned away. The woman seemed to have a sixth sense, and he sure as hell didn’t need it boring into his brain today. “I’ll be in my office.”

  He couldn’t focus on paperwork and restlessly paced the room, finally stopping to stare out of the window at the heavy gray clouds in the overcast December sky. He’d kept asking himself all week if there was something different he could have said to Hope, something that might have made her rethink her plans, and every time he wondered, he asked himself why.

  His inappropriate criticism and his apologies to Hope, his sincere praise that she’d be a wonderful mother, were all utterly irrelevant to her life. What he thought or had to say didn’t matter. She wanted a baby and didn’t have a man in her life to give her one. IVF was a perfectly reasonable choice for someone like her who deserved children, and any children she had would deserve her. She’d been a short interlude in his life, and he in hers. Nothing more.

  But it felt like more.

  He had to get over it. Get over it, and be happy for her. It wasn’t as though he could give her what she wanted, no matter how attracted they were to one another.

  A soft knock at the door preceded Sue sticking her head in. “Mind if I come in?”

  “Sure. What’s up?”

  “Your patient just called to say she’s running about ten minutes late.” She stepped in and closed the door behind her, which Aaron took as a bad sign. “I can tell something’s bothering you, and I’m guessing it’s because Hope Sanders is starting her hormone treatments today.”

  Well, hell. He folded his arms across his chest. “Why would that bother me?”

  “I don’t know, you tell me.” She mirrored his pose, standing there staring at him like a stern schoolmarm asking who threw the spitball.

  Why was it bothering him so much? Good damned question, except he knew the answer. “Fine. I know you won’t leave until I say something to make you leave. I like her. I’d like to date her, but she wants kids, and yeah, I guess that bothers me a little. But you know as well as anyone I’m not a home and hearth guy. In fact, I’ve been thinking it’s time to move on.”

  As soon as he said it the idea again seemed painful and appealing at the same time. Not having to see Hope pregnant, not having to see her bring her babies to the hospital. Start fresh somewhere he would feel like his old self again.

  “I charge my therapist fees by the minute so listen carefully.” Sue stepped closer, resting her hand on his forearm, and the warm look in her eyes reminded him of his mother. His real one, who’d put up with so much from him. Not the crazy one he barely remembered. “You’re a good man, Aaron. Maybe it’s time you asked yourself why you move from place to place every few years. Why you avoid commitment like an infectious disease. Why the idea of a family of your own has you running the other way as fast as you can, when making families for others—for your patients and through your adoption foundation—is the one thing you have committed your life to.”

  “Helping people make families or become a family has nothing to do with my avoidance of one for myself,” he said. Probably a damned lie, but he didn’t feel like digging too deep into his psyche right then. “But I appreciate you caring about me enough to give advice.”

  Which was the reason he’d given to Hope for why he’d lectured her about having IVF as a single woman. Because he cared about her.

  More than he could remember caring about any other woman.

  “Just think about it,” Sue said with another pat on his arm. “I’ll bring your patient when she gets here.”

  Being busy seeing patients the rest of the afternoon helped Aaron push thoughts of Hope to the side. He knew her appointment with Devor was scheduled at 4:00 p.m. and was glad he had a very nervous couple to talk to at that time, taking one hundred percent of his focus. After they’d left at four-thirty, he expected the knock at his door to be a nurse bringing his next patients in, leaving no time for anything but work.

  Except it was Sue again, sans patients. “Your four-thirty canceled, and Dr. Krantz has some delay with the procedure he’s doing. Would you mind talking to his patients for a few minutes? I’ve done what I can, but they’re practically pacing a hole in the waiting room carpet. I’m thinking you can answer general questions to calm them down until Dr. Krantz can get here and take over.”

  “All right.” Calming down nervous couples was something he thought he was fairly good at, and keeping busy was the goal. “You want to bring them in here, or to Krantz’s office?”

  “His, I think, so the patients can just stay there when he takes over. How about I introduce you in the waiting room, and you can take them there?”

  A horribly uncomfortable feeling swirled in his gut just like he’d felt earlier in the day as he followed Sue down the hall past Devor’s closed office door. That it was happening again really started to tick him off, and just as he was welcoming some good self-disgust for being like some overemotional woman Devor’s door swung open and out stumbled Hope.

  And stumbled wasn’t an overstatement. Two staggering steps, then her hand slapped against the doorjamb, hanging onto it like a lifeline. Her face was white as chalk, her eyes wide and a little glassy, and when they looked up and latched onto his she let out a short, distressed cry.

  “Hope.” He grabbed her arms to steady her. “Are you all right?”

  “I...I...”

  Damned if she didn’t actually blanch even more, and her lips seemed to tremble when she stopped trying to talk. But her eyes, filled with something akin to panic, stayed focused on his. Had she somehow had some unusual, bad reaction to the hormones? It did happen sometimes, but never in his years of practice had he seen it occur that fast. He looked past her to Tom. “What happened?”

  “She’ll be fine.” Tom’s face was unreadable. “She needs to sit down for a few more minutes, that’s all. Hope, come back in and catch your breath, okay?”

  “No. I...I need to go home. I need to think.”

  Something about the way her eyes were fixed on his scared the hell out of Aaron, though he couldn’t say exactly why. “Hope, listen,” he said, having no clue what he wanted her to listen to. He just knew he had to somehow wipe whatever that was—shock maybe?—off her face.

  “No. I have to go.” She managed to pull out of Aaron’s hold and, for a woman who’d looked as if she was going to faint just seconds ago, practically left skid marks on the floor as she left.

  He wanted to chase after her, but he didn’t have the right, damn it. Standing still and watching her leave took a Herculean effort, but she was Devor’s patient. Sue managed the office; she was the one who took care of non-medical problems. And as for him?

  He knew Hope didn’t even count him as a friend anymore.

  * * *

  Hope wasn’t sure exactly how she’d made it home, as it was a bit of a blur, but she was there, somehow, snug in her flannel pajamas. Or she would
be snug, if her whole body didn’t still feel icy cold from shock.

  She scrubbed her cheeks with soap, hoping the everyday routine would bring a feeling of normalcy after every bit of it had gone straight out of the window an hour ago. Bring a little circulation back to her skin’s current numbness as she tried to come to grips with this unbelievable reality.

  A reality that felt totally unreal and impossible. A reality that in some ways was a dream come true. In other ways?

  A total, unbelievable nightmare.

  She toweled off her face then, like an automaton, walked into her living room. Slowly lowered herself onto the sofa to stare, unseeing, at the wall.

  What in the world was she going to do?

  Her hands went to her belly, instinctively. Protectively. And somehow, the simple movement calmed her.

  The question her brain had asked in its panicked state wasn’t the right one, was it? Obviously, without question, what she was going to do was have this baby she’d been blessed with. Not the way she’d planned, but things didn’t always go to plan, did they?

  She sat quietly, trying to process it, letting the truth of the situation seep through her body. Waited for the fear to jab at her again. The doubts that had plagued her as she’d tried to ready herself for the IVF and for having a baby.

  But it didn’t. Shock though it was, ideal situation though it wasn’t, Hope found herself slowly filled with a quiet and deep gratitude. A warmth that spread through her being, chasing away her chill.

  She was going to have a baby to love and care for and raise as best she could. Her dream, her wish, had been granted, and her heart suddenly bloomed with happiness, so full she thought it might burst right out of her chest with the joy of it all. Already being pregnant took all decisions out of the equation, didn’t it? The questions of whether she should or shouldn’t have IVF, be a single parent. Questions of whether or not she’d be able to love her baby the way it deserved to be loved.