A surreptitious glance determined no visible impact of her claim that there was nothing between them aside from sex, and she told herself she could live without even that piece. She casually rested a hand in the middle of her chest, pressing lightly to assuage the unwelcome ache that had started up in there again. Started that morning. She thought she was past it but the feeling was coming back.
She was stupid, thick as a brick as her long-passed Irish Nan would say, along with so many other antiquated sayings that still made sense. Hope springs eternal and all that nonsense. Beckett had treated her horribly, and no quivering sense of infatuation was going to erase all the intervening months of being treated like a toy left on the shelf until he took her down to play. Tears pricked her eyes and she blinked them back. She refused to allow him the opportunity to hurt her again.
“Mrs. Kilmer?” The same nurse—Rhonda—who had provided the little specimen bottle earlier, smiled at her.
Surging to her feet, her vision swam and she took a little stutter step until a big hand grasped her elbow. “Easy, sweetheart.”
Wrenching her arm free, she marched toward the nurse, fixing a smile on her face. “Grace.”
“Right, Grace. Come this way. We need to weigh you, take your height…” The other woman’s voice trailed off as Grace realized Beck was following closely behind her.
Turning in the narrow hallway, she hissed, “What are you doing?”
“Coming to meet with Dr. Gibson.” On the surface, he looked and sounded reasonable but she caught the wary flash in his blue eyes.
“Why?” He hadn’t accompanied her the last time, listening to her updates at home with blank features and what she deemed a marked lack of curiosity. Making her heart sink to her shoes. And yet hoping and believing that the minute he saw their baby born he would become the man she’d fallen in love with…
“I learn from my mistakes, sweetheart.”
Forgetting where she was, she leaned forward. “Do not—”
He raised a placating hand, close enough she could scent him, familiar and spicy and she nearly missed his reply. “Grace. I know your name. I apologize.”
Rotating back to see the nurse watching them with interest, she heard him mutter, “I just don’t know who you are.”
Huh. Well, neither did she. The new Grace was forged in fire and now had a cause to rally behind. The urge to punch Beckett right in his perfect mouth made her clench both fists, one tucked by her side, the other around the strap of her purse.
She breathed slowly through her nose and entered the small room that served as Dr. Gibson’s examining area. He clearly hadn’t spent his money on size, but the space was painted in a soothing shade of teal, and while clean, it lacked the austerity of a clinic. She never minded coming here. The hospital was a whole different story.
Rhonda passed over a soft gown in pale pink. “Everything off.”
All the times Beckett had seen her naked, touched every square inch of her exposed flesh seemed irrelevant in that moment. Too intimate. She didn’t care what the nurse thought. “Give me some space.”
Quirking a brow, Beck stepped out into the hall and shut the door. The nurse peered at her. “Is something wrong?”
Maybe she did care about her personal life being front and center. “Hormones. I’m in a foul mood.”
Features softening, the other woman nodded. “I remember you, Mrs. Kilmer. Grace. I expect you’re a little anxious. I’d like to suggest, though, that you allow your husband every opportunity to be part of this pregnancy. If you’re pregnant.” A hectic flush stained Rhonda’s cheekbones.
“I’m pregnant.” She discarded the nurse’s advice, wondering what the other woman had surmised, not seeing Beckett during the few visits here for her first pregnancy. Did Rhonda think she’d excluded her husband the way she was trying to do now?
Her flat assertion distracted the woman, and she smiled. “Well, then the test results won’t be a surprise. If you’d just change…”
While the nurse typed on the laptop on the desk, Grace slipped out of her clothes and into the gown, tying it off at the back. It was cool in the room and she shivered.
“Here.” The nurse urged her to sit on the table and pulled a sheet over her lower half. “The doctor will be in shortly.”
As Rhonda left, Beckett returned, dropping onto a chair by the desk. She glared at him. “Your arrogance knows no bounds. You may have convinced me that you’re within your right to ensure I get proper care, but that doesn’t mean inserting yourself into my life.”
He flinched, a slight ripple of the skin around his eyes and on his forehead. “Let me help you, Grace. Please. I … I want this to go well.”
“Because I failed the last time.” Six bitter, revealing words, and she wished to call them back.
Big body suddenly rigid, he stared at her. “You didn’t fail. It wasn’t your fault. And … if something happens this time, it won’t be your fault.”
Fear clutched her by the throat and her mouth went dry. Nothing was going to happen this time. Nothing.
“Jesus, Grace. Don’t look like that.”
She swallowed, a dry scrape. “I don’t need your help.”
“You don’t want it,” he said quietly, gentleness coloring his tone. “And I understand why. I do. A blanket apology won’t cover how I treated you. My behavior … it was like something that fed on itself. I was stung by betrayal and then felt powerless. I just let it roll along and wouldn’t let myself consider you. In fact, I wanted you to pay… I’ve been an idiot.”
“Betrayed. Powerless.” She tasted the words and hated the way they fit. “Pot, meet kettle. We’ve already had this discussion.”
“Shit.” He visibly winced. “Of course, you felt the same.”
“I’m divorcing you, Beckett, so accept that. Move on.” Wrapped in a sheet, wearing a stupid pink hospital gown, she might have laughed at the setting for the continuing dispute, but it rang true. He looked away.
After a moment, he said, “Grace, I’m not going anywhere.”
“You—”
The brisk rap on the door was followed by the appearance of the tall, skinny frame of her doctor, balding head bent over the sheaf of paper in his hand. Dr. Gibson strode in and tossed the notes down, giving her a warm smile. “Grace. It’s so good to see you again, and so soon. Let’s see where things are at.”
Beckett offered his hand. “Beckett Kilmer.”
Dr. Gibson gave a perfunctory shake. “I don’t think we’ve met.”
“We haven’t. Something I’m rectifying this time.”
Grace closed her eyes against the familiar sensation of being swept aside, her personal wishes ignored or discounted. The miscarriage had been dealt with by an ER doctor, so these two men had never met. That didn’t mean they should become familiar. She took a breath. “My husband and I are divorcing, Dr. Gibson.”
At his startled look, she tried to explain, but Beck spoke over her. “Grace is upset with me. She has every reason to be. I’m trying to be there for her—and the baby. She’s pushing me away when she needs me most.”
“Mothers-to-be can act in ways that others find difficult to understand.”
What. The. Hell? She opened her mouth to unleash the pain and frustration, the humiliation and fury of years of biting her tongue, of feeling less than, of being a disappointment, now surging to the fore with a vengeance, when the doctor gave her a grave stare.
“But while Grace will struggle with hormones, my experience with her is that of an intelligent, grounded young woman. And I’ll respect what she wants, Mr. Kilmer.”
Overwhelmed by her doctor’s astute kindness, Grace ducked her head to hide her tears. A tissue was tucked into her hand and she used it, dabbing at her eyes before wiping her nose.
“Do you want Mr. Kilmer to leave?”
She didn’t. And how insane was that? She didn’t want to be married to him any longer, but if he wanted to follow the pregnancy and appropriately parent thei
r child… She looked at him, and for the first time in a long time saw open and honest emotion on his handsome face—aside from the agonized pleasure he got from having sex with her.
He looked vulnerable. Worried and anxious. She searched for any sign of warmth and affection, past his assertion of wanting the best for her and his baby, and decided she saw none. He’d reminded her that she’d professed to love him, yet hadn’t said he felt the same.
It struck a shard of agony through her chest but nothing she hadn’t felt before, so she weathered the pain. People who didn’t love one another raised children. What was important was the way they treated one another. She was deadly serious about not bringing up a child in a negative environment, one filled with stress and nastiness.
“He can stay. If he’s being honest about his motives. We’re still getting divorced, but I won’t deny him this.” It went without saying she wouldn’t hesitate to change her mind if Beckett reverted to type. Dr. Gibson might have only assumptions about the true nature of their relationship but he heard the unspoken implication from the way his eyes narrowed.
He nodded to her and spoke to Beckett. “Sir?”
“I’m being honest.”
He didn’t reference the divorce, but she didn’t care. Grace Kilmer, soon to be Langdon, had prevailed. Funny how her sense of victory withered in the face of her exhaustion.
“Well, then. The sample confirmed your pregnancy in the old way. I’ll still take blood and also perform an exam today.” Dr. Gibson helped her to lie back on the table. “It’ll be too crowded in here for Rhonda to join us, but I don’t require her for this. And Mr. Kilmer can be our chaperone.”
Reflecting on the things about to unfold, Grace cringed, but she’d agreed to Beckett being there, so she forced a smile at the doctor’s attempt at a joke.
“You’re pregnant, but we want to confirm the heartbeat and measure for gestational age. How far along do you think you are?”
She supplied the date of her last period, and Dr. Gibson nodded. “So up to seven weeks, give or take. A tiny pea. But never too soon to follow up, considering your history.”
He took her blood pressure and tutted. “A bit high, but then you’re upset.”
Beckett shifted in his chair. “I’ll be the poster boy from now on. I promise.”
The doctor frowned as he checked the readout. “I don’t think she believes you. Grace, it’s important not to stress.”
She and Beckett needed to hammer out some ground rules. “My life is upside down right now. Beckett and I will talk things out.”
“See that you do.” The older man rolled a device out from under a countertop and then donned a pair of gloves. “We’ll do a transvaginal ultrasound this time around. I want to rule out a molar or ectopic pregnancy. It might be a bit early to detect placenta previa.”
God, she hadn’t thought about that, familiar with all those terms. She’d tortured herself after losing her child by reading about everything that could go wrong. A warm hand sought out hers as Beckett crouched by her side. She focused on a vision of everything being perfectly fine as she assumed the position that felt so horribly exposing despite Dr. Gibson’s professionalism.
In truth, it wasn’t terribly uncomfortable, if a bit intrusive, and Beckett kept his eyes on her face. She saw the pure-blue iris each and every time she risked a covert look. He squeezed her fingers and muttered that everything was going to be okay. She wasn’t above taking even false reassurance from his touch and his presence.
“All right.” Dr. Gibson stared at the screen for long moments. She held her breath. He nodded and said, “Nothing where it shouldn’t be.”
Her breath rushed out and Beckett’s fingers trembled around her hand.
After the doctor released her, he rolled the machine away.” He drew blood from her left arm, probably because Beckett didn’t relinquish her right hand, and patted her shoulder. “If everything looks good in the blood work, come back in two weeks.”
“And if not?” Beckett’s voice thrummed with worry.
“I’ll schedule a more immediate appointment in that event, Mr. Kilmer. To discuss whatever we need to do, but I’m staying positive. Grace doesn’t have any physical issues that would loan themselves to another miscarriage. It was simply one of those things we wrestle with. Not that I want her to take anything but the most possible care. Rhonda will give you both some written information.”
He made a note on his pad. “Prenatal vitamins, consult me before you take anything else.”
She nodded. “Same drill.”
“Precisely. Except, this time around I’m sure we’ll have an excellent result.”
He patted her again and shook hands with Beckett, giving him a look that probably only men could translate, but Beck stiffened. She watched the doctor exit, the door closing firmly behind him.
“Need some help?” Beckett gestured toward the table and then offered his hand. She let him aid her to a sitting position and her belly rumbled loudly.
“Get dressed and I’ll take you out for something to eat,” he offered.
She wasn’t sure she wanted to take part in such a novel experience, before dismissing her bitchy attitude. They could have a good discussion in public, without crass displays of emotion. Maybe better than closeted at home. “I won’t take long.”
He hesitated, but she wasn’t getting naked with him around ever again, and he seemed to accept it. “I’ll be outside the door.”
“I won’t try to escape, Beckett.”
“I wouldn’t put it past you.” He tempered his words with a smile, but she heard the uncertainty.
“Just go.”
When she was alone, she cleaned up with the aid of some tissues and then pulled her clothes back on. Pausing to rest a hand on her belly, she thought about shopping for different items, not too far down the road. Positive thinking was her new mantra. Charity would be delighted to come with.
She stilled, the files full of sketches in her makeshift office coming to mind. Why not? All those Internet courses she’d taken, even telling herself they were a poor substitute for a degree, should be put to the test. The idea of being any kind of competition for Beckett made her huff with suppressed laughter, but she was her own person now and it felt like something she could do. Besides, his business didn’t deign to include pregnant women.
He was leaning against the wall, checking his phone when she emerged from the exam room but put the device away instantly. Was that a hint of guilt on his face? She shoved her curiosity aside. It was none of her business, he had never been.
“Delmonico’s okay?”
“I don’t want a big meal, Beckett.”
“They have lots to choose from and I want you to eat something quality. And I’ve ordered groceries, too. They’ll be delivered. Jenna—my PA—will meet the driver.”
The reaction to being managed was instantaneous and she warred with it. Before, she would have simply acquiesced, but no more. In the past, he had alternated between flat out ignoring her and citing his expectations whenever she was required, however few those occasions were. Not including sex.
“I’m not trying to be the boss of you.” He urged her down the hall. “But there’s nothing in the house to speak of, and it’s something I can do for you.”
She wasn’t letting him chip away at her wall. Even a month ago she would have jumped at his involvement and interest, but… Do it for the baby. And remember you have interests to pursue other than the mundane.
“Don’t overdo it,” she said, giving in to her mental chiding. “There will be no one there to eat it.”
The sharp intake of his breath told her he understood her point, but he said nothing.
Delmonico’s hadn’t changed significantly since the last time she’d been. The familiar surroundings reminded her of Beckett in the early days, intimate dinners… Maybe she’d come to recall those times with fondness, her first actual interaction with a man. She deserved some memories that didn’t gut her.
Placing their orders—a full meal for him and soup and salad for her—she drew a finger through the condensation on her water glass. He broke the silence first and she cursed herself for losing the advantage. Except this wasn’t going to be a battle. She’d already won and they were negotiating terms of surrender. His surrender.
“Can we talk about the divorce without you getting upset? Dr. Gibson was pretty clear.”
She was still processing how sad she felt when thinking of his surrender but set it aside. “I don’t want to fight with you.”
“It takes some time for such a thing to find its way through the courts. I propose we live together until we get to the end stage.”
“That’s … unusual, I would think.”
He laughed, no humor in the sound. “Our relationship’s unusual.”
“Charity is willing to live with me. She’s on a yearly lease, but she won’t renew it. I think it runs out in ten months.”
“Seems like the timing is perfect.”
“I plan to find a place, before. Get it ready.”
“Look. I don’t want to come across as being autocratic. But shouldn’t you have someone around during upcoming months?”
He had the grace to look away from her disbelieving stare. “Like, who?”
“Okay. I know I haven’t been home much. But that’ll change.”
Their meals arrived, and she remained silent while the plates were set in front of them. She much preferred the comfortable, relaxed milieu she’d shared with her friend last night, even considering the content of their discussion.
When they were again alone, she said, “It’s fine, Beckett. I’ll be fine.”
“I want you to live in our house.”
Our house. Not, our home. That place was a prison, not a refuge. “No.”
“Then I’ll help you find a place—suitable for you and Charity when she can move in—and I’ll stay with you. Until everything is okay.”
Love Changes Everything (Romance on the Go Book 0) Page 8