“How are you doing?” he asked awkwardly. He hadn’t realized how intimate and personal it would feel to be here in her hospital room. He didn’t belong—yet he was inexplicably drawn to be there.
“Bored.” She stared at him pointedly. “Obviously I’m desperate for company.” The glimmer of laughter in her voice and the quirk of her mouth kept the jab from sounding harsh.
“Obviously,” Garrett bounced back. She was looking at him as if he were a human being instead of an ogre—for a change. He liked it. He liked it a lot. “What’s that?” He nodded at the machine.
“That’s an external fetal monitor,” she explained. She touched the belt around her stomach. “It shows when I’m having contractions. See, I’m having one right now.” She indicated the readout.
Garrett stared at her, then at the monitor, then back at her. “Why don’t you look like you’re in pain?”
She laughed. “I had an epidural a couple hours ago, right after I got here. It’s a nerve block.”
Garrett couldn’t take his gaze off her, transfixed by the glow in her eyes. “I see,” he said. He didn’t, of course. He had no idea what she was talking about, but evidently she was no longer in pain and he was happy about that.
He struggled for conversation. Now that he was here, he didn’t know what he was supposed to say, how to act. He’d never been inside a laboring woman’s hospital room before.
“Are you hungry? Do you want me to ask them to bring you some hunch?” He realized it was nearly noon. He was a little hungry himself.
She shook her head. “I’d love to eat, but I can’t. All I can have is ice. You can go to the cafeteria if you want.”
Garrett couldn’t imagine going off to lunch knowing she was hungry and not allowed to eat. “I’m not hungry,” he lied.
“You can sit down, you know.”
Lanie was very aware of Garrett’s gaze on her as he sat in the armchair near the bed. She could hear the muted sound of a baby crying somewhere down the hall.
“This is a nice little hospital,” Garrett commented casually.
Lanie reached for her cup of ice chips, tipped it up to her lips.
She munched and swallowed the ice before answering. “Deer Creek is a nice little town. It’s a wonderful, safe place to raise a child.” She had a sinking feeling Walter’s next command could be that she raise his grandchild in the city. She wondered if she could head that potential problem off at the pass by convincing Garrett of Deer Creek’s charms.
A twinge of discomfort rippled over her middle then, distracting her. Was the epidural wearing off? She wondered if the nurse would be back to check on her again soon.
“Do you have names picked out?” Garrett asked.
“Anne Marie if it’s a girl. Anne for my grandmother, Marie for my mother.”
“Those are beautiful names,” he commented. “What if it’s a boy?”
“Dalton. Dalton Benjamin.” She felt instantly defensive. She didn’t want to remember he didn’t trust this baby was truly Ben’s—but she couldn’t forget it. “Dalton was my father’s name. And Benjamin, of course...”
He said nothing for a moment. “It must be painful for you that Ben isn’t here today.” His face stiffened into strained lines.
“I wish he could have been here,” she said. “I’m sorry that my baby won’t ever know its father.”
She watched Garrett get up, pace to the draped window, his hands jammed in the pockets of the shorts. She remembered how close he and Ben had been as children. For the first time it struck her that he had to be grieving for Ben. And she was ashamed that she hadn’t even considered it before.
Impulsively she decided to tell Garrett the truth—because he deserved the truth. And because maybe, just maybe, he would believe her.
“Ben and I never discussed having children,” she said quietly.
Garrett turned, his features shadowed, the muted morning sunlight glowing through the draped window behind him.
“You hadn’t?” he asked.
“No.” She swallowed, forced herself to continue. “I don’t think our marriage was going to make it.” The hospital noises outside her door seemed to recede. All she could see was his shadowed face, all she could hear was the long breath he expelled before he spoke.
“You said you loved him.”
“I did.”
It seemed to take several seconds for understanding to dawn. He took two steps toward her, his face coming into the light of the lamp by her bed, his expression grim. “You’re saying it was Ben who wasn’t happy? Ben gave up everything for you.”
“It wasn’t me that Ben wanted so desperately. He wanted to break away from his father, which was a backward way of trying to get Walter’s attention—to make Walter see him, love him, for who he was, not for what Walter wanted him to be.”
Garrett didn’t know what was harder to believe—that Ben had wanted to break away from Walter so badly that he would deliberately go into an ill-fated marriage, or that Ben could have lived with this beautiful woman and not been happy.
“And you married him, anyway?” he asked roughly. How could he not have realized that Ben had become that desperate? Had he been so absorbed in his own troubles with Vanessa that he had let Ben down so badly? Guilt slashed through him.
“I didn’t know. I didn’t realize the depth of the emotional power struggle he was involved in with his father.” She shook her head. “Walter wanted him in the company, and Ben didn’t want to be part of it. He thought if he married me, he could force his father to accept that—to accept him. But Walter cut him off instead. And Ben was too proud, too angry, too hurt, to approach his father then.”
Garrett stared at her. If what she was saying was true, she was the one conned, not Ben. She was the one used.
He’d known Ben had had trouble settling into the family business. He’d been young, restless. It had been difficult for Garrett to understand. Without Walter, Garret would have been in a foster home. He owed everything to his uncle, had followed in his footsteps out of instinctive duty.
“I’m not blaming Ben,” she went on almost as if she could read his thoughts. “He was hurting too much to realize he was hurting me, too.”
“Why are you telling me this?” he demanded, eyeing her suspiciously. Every iota of the tension between them was back, and some visceral part of him hated that.
She flinched at his harsh tone, but she held her bead high. “Because it’s the truth.”
Frustration clawed at Garrett’s gut, making him feel ill. He was tired of doubts and mistrust. But he felt like he was in a deep hole of suspicion. Every time he tried to climb out, he slipped right back down.
“Because it’s why I wrote that letter to Walter,” she said. “I wanted for my baby what Ben had wanted for himself, but never got,” she said. “Walter’s love. It was naive of me, I suppose, but I thought Ben’s death might have changed Walter. Obviously it hasn’t. He sent you here with a whole list of demands. He wants to test the baby so he can name him or her as his heir, so he can give him everything that destroyed Ben. He still can’t give the one thing that matters—love.”
Garrett could only listen in stunned silence, staring at her. Was this some sort of clever manipulation? He didn’t know what to think. Everything he’d thought about Ben’s last months was turned upside down.
“I’m scared of what more he’ll want if I give him the tests,” she went on, her voice shaking with sudden emotion. “Will he demand we move to Austin, where he can dictate every move we—oh!” She broke off, her features painfully contorted.
Garrett ate up the space between them with quick strides, responding automatically to her pain. “What is it? I thought you weren’t supposed to feel the contractions.”
“The epidural...is...wearing off,” she whispered tightly. She huffed air in and out. “Definitely. I can feel this contraction.”
“What do I do? Do you want me to get the nurse?”
“Yes...please...get th
e nurse.”
Garrett ran to the door. The hall was empty. He sped to the nurses’ station. The nurse that had been in Lanie’s room before wasn’t there, but he found another one and brought her back.
He waited in the hall while the nurse checked Lanie. Stress worked at his nerves. He needed this baby to be born so he could get out of this town, away from Lanie. Get where he could think straight.
When he looked in her beautiful blue eyes, he couldn’t think at all.
The nurse emerged. Through the open door he saw Lanie lying on her side in the bed, her back to him.
“Is she all right?” he asked the nurse.
“It won’t be long now,” she said briskly.
He heard Lanie take a sharp breath. “She’s having another contraction already,” he said, stunned.
The nurse nodded. “They’re going to keep getting closer. She’s not going to get much break now. She’s progressing fast now, real fast—she’s almost fully dilated. You can rub her back if that helps her. Keep reminding her to breathe in and out. We don’t want her hyperventilating. Try to get her to relax between contractions. I’m going to get the doctor.”
Garrett blinked, but before he could say anything, the nurse hurried off.
“Lanie?” He walked up to the bed cautiously. Obviously the nurse thought he was Lanie’s husband. He wasn’t, but that didn’t mean he could leave Lanie alone, no matter how confused he was about the things she’d said. He reached the bed. The hospital gown, tied at the back of her neck, gaped open to reveal the creamy column of her spine. Gingerly he placed his hands inside the gown, massaged her shoulders and neck like the nurse had told him.
He worked to apply counterpressure to her pain. Her skin was warm, pliant. She moaned.
“Breathe,” he murmured. “You’re doing well.”
She turned as the contraction passed, stared straight at him, anxiety shining in her eyes. “I don’t think they’re going to give me any more of the epidural. She said it’s too late, there’s no time. The baby’s coming.” She drew in a shaky breath. “I’m having the baby, now, without any medication. Oh, no,” she whispered raspily. “I’m having another contraction.”
“It’s only been a minute since the last one,” Garrett said. She was already desperately hissing air in and out.
He didn’t know what to do. She was turned around now, so he couldn’t rub her back anymore. He put his hand over hers instead. She gripped it back with surprising ferocity and wouldn’t let go.
“You’re doing just fine,” he said as the contraction receded, struggling for the right thing to say or do. “Try to relax now.”
“How am I supposed to relax?” she snapped at him.
“I don’t know! The nurse told me to say that.” He stared at her, taking in the fatigue and fear in her eyes. “Do you want me to go now?” he asked, torn between wanting to stay and feeling uncharacteristically weak in the knees at the idea of witnessing a birth. “I’ll leave you alone.”
Lanie chewed her lip, stared at Garrett. She should tell him to go. He wasn’t her husband. He wasn’t even her friend. But no matter how many books she’d read and how many classes she’d attended, childbirth was a formidable mystery.
Garrett’s hand felt so big and warm and secure. The idea of letting go of it suddenly terrified her.
“Could you just—just hold my hand?” she asked with a quaver she couldn’t quite control.
Garrett knew then he couldn’t leave her. For once, Lanie actually wanted his help, wasn’t pushing him away. Another contraction hit. She squeezed his hand so hard he could feel her nails biting into his flesh.
The nurse ran into the room pushing a cart of instruments. She flipped over an extension at the end of the bed, pulled a huge light down from the ceiling and flashed it on before ripping the sheet off Lanie’s lower body. Garrett whipped around, facing the head of the bed, out of automatic respect for her modesty—not to mention his jellied knees.
“I feel pressure,” Lanie cried.
“Don’t push,” the nurse ordered. “You can’t push yet. Blow.”
Lanie blew out, then let her head fall back as the contraction slipped away. Sweat beaded her forehead, dampening the tendrils of hair escaping her ponytail.
The doctor burst into the room and Garrett swerved his head around, carefully maintaining his level of sight above the bed. The doctor wore surgical garments and gloves. He went straight to the end of Lanie’s bed.
“She’s fully dilated,” the nurse said.
“How’s it going, Lanie?” Dr. Furley said cheerfully. He was an older man, and his confident buoyance relieved some of Garrett’s anxiety.
“It’s time, dear,” the nurse said. “Next contraction, you can push. I can see the hair on his little head—and this baby’s got plenty, let me tell you.”
“Really?” Lanie whispered.
Garrett looked back at her. Her eyes were huge and elated for a minute, and she seemed to gain a second wind. Then another contraction hit.
“Sit up, dear,” the nurse ordered. “Sit up.”
Garrett helped her, supporting her back with one hand, his other hand still in hers.
Lanie squeezed her eyes shut and pushed. Several contractions and pushes later, Garrett’s hand was nearly numb from her death grip, but he worried about Lanie, who was pale and trembling. At the same time, he was awed by her courage and self-possession. He knew she was scared, knew she was in pain, but she hadn’t fallen apart. She just kept going. And he was incredibly proud and honored to have any small part in helping her.
“Okay, okay, next time,” the doctor encouraged her. “You’re close.”
Garrett helped her into position as another contraction came. She gritted her teeth and put all her might into the effort. She was so focused, he wasn’t sure she even knew he was there anymore. Then she looked up at him. Pain and exhaustion radiated from her eyes.
“Come on,” he urged. “You can do it.”
“The baby’s coming,” the nurse cried. “Push!”
Lanie bore down again. Garrett turned his head in time to see the doctor lift the tiny, wet, red-skinned baby into the air.
Chapter Seven
“It’s a boy,” Garrett announced into the receiver of the pay phone in the hospital lobby. His heart still sang in reverent wonder. He felt exhilarated. And moved. Moved like he’d never been moved by anything before in his whole life.
“A boy.” Walter sounded satisfied. “Goad. He’s healthy?”
“He’s absolutely perfect.” Garrett remembered how the baby had bawled as he’d been placed on Lanie’s stomach, how Lame had reached down with gentle awe to touch him for the first time. How she’d looked up at him—Garrett—and smiled through her tears.
And how very close he’d felt to her in that magic instant.
“What did she name him?” Walter asked, his gruff voice breaking into Garrett’s thoughts.
“Dalton. Dalton Benjamin Blakemore.” It wasn’t until after Garrett said the baby’s name the second time, the full name, that he realized the subconscious emphasis he’d put on the middle and surname. Was there a part of him, a very large part of him, that simply believed this baby was Ben’s because Lanie said so?
He hadn’t had a chance yet to digest everything Lanie had told him about Ben just before the baby’s birth. But it was getting harder and harder for him to think of her as a scheming con artist.
“Have you talked to her about the testing?” Walter demanded.
“She refused to have the baby tested.”
“She can’t refuse.”
“She’s the mother,” Garrett pointed out.
“And that boy might be my grandson.” Walter was silent a long moment. “She must have expenses at a time like this. Hospital bills. Offer her a check. Up front. Just for having the boy tested. The money is hers, even if he’s not Ben’s.”
The old man’s voice hardened. “I have to know the truth, Garrett. I have to know if that baby boy is
my grandson.”
“Hello.” Garrett’s face appeared around the half-open door to Lanie’s hospital room. “Am I interrupting?”
Lanie shook her head. “Come in.” She pushed the movable tray away from her bed. “I’m finished eating.” The hospital had brought her an early dinner, and she felt one hundred times better now that she’d eaten.
She also felt better for having showered. She was wearing her own gown and robe that she’d brought with her from home. Now that everything was over, she was a little embarrassed. But she couldn’t forget how Garrett had held her hand, how he’d encouraged her and supported her and helped her focus.
It was an intimacy that was premature, though, and now that the crisis was passed, she felt awkward.
Her face heated as she watched him come into the room. He walked first to the portable crib and stared down at Dalton, and she wondered if Garrett felt a little uncomfortable, too.
The baby had been bathed and swaddled, and after nursing briefly, he’d gone to sleep. She saw Garrett’s granite features soften as he stared downward.
Her pulse fluttered when he shifted his enigmatic gaze to her.
“He looks like you,” he said.
“He looks like my brother Hayden to me. And Hayden looks like my dad. I really look a lot more like my mother. I think Dalton is a throwback.”
She barely restrained adding the caveat that Dalton had Ben’s dark hair. She wasn’t sure why she didn’t say it, except that she knew it would bring back all that horrible tension between them, and she couldn’t help not wanting that.
“How are you feeling?” he asked.
“Good,” she said. “Relieved that it’s over.”
“Me, too,” he said with a knowing grin that had Lanie’s cheeks flushing again. He came around the bed and sat down in the chair. “You look embarrassed.”
“I’m humiliated,” Lanie admitted. “Did I hurt your hand?”
“That sounds like one of those questions women ask that can be a trap,” he said, his lips quirking upward. “After what I just saw you go through, I’m not going to say you hurt my hand.”
The Billionaire and the Bassinet Page 6