by Nicola Marsh
‘How’re you holding up?’ he murmured as the nurse passed around lifelike dolls to the couples, along with a bundle of cloth nappies each.
‘So far so good,’ she said, handing him the doll with all the finesse of a rugby player making a pass. ‘Though I think it’s your turn for nappy duty tonight.’
‘No worries.’
Sending her a confident grin, he whipped off the doll’s threadbare clothes and folded a nappy as they’d been taught at the last class. However, his skilful demonstration came undone as he attempted to fasten the nappy, involving some slick manoeuvring of the doll’s leg which resulted in the leg detaching from the body.
‘Oops. I better keep a close eye on you when it’s time for you to look after the real thing.’
She’d meant it as a joke, but Nate didn’t laugh. In fact, he didn’t move or do much of anything apart from stare in horror at his hand holding the leg.
‘Hey, it’s no big deal. These dolls are worn out. You’ll be great with our daughter.’
They had briefly discussed some names, but still hadn’t got round to naming the baby yet, and she knew they’d have to tackle that potentially touchy subject in the coming weeks. Though she hadn’t told him yet, she did favour slightly alternative names in favour of the stodgy old-faithfuls, and it looked like another battle loomed on the horizon.
‘I need to get out of here,’ he said, thrusting the doll’s leg at her, his dark eyes stark and haunted. ‘I’ll meet you outside in half an hour.’
‘Nate, it’s okay—’
She didn’t get to finish her sentence, as he fled the room like a man with a million demons on his tail, leaving her holding a one-legged doll and trying to ignore the ten pairs of curious eyes focussed on her.
So he’d run out on her.
It wasn’t like it hadn’t happened to her before. Though Nate had never abandoned her or let her down, unless she counted the crucial fact he didn’t love her.
They’d pretended his proposal had never happened, but as the baby had grown and it had been increasingly difficult to sleep, she’d often thought back to that night and played the ‘what if’ game.
What if he’d felt more for her?
What if the proposal had been fuelled by love and passion rather than caring and obligation?
What if she was the type of woman to not give a damn anyway, and take what he offered?
Many couples had marriages based on a lot less than the mutual respect and caring she and Nate shared, but she couldn’t do it. She couldn’t tie herself to a man who didn’t love her, no matter how solid and dependable he was.
Besides, she’d promised to be the best mother she could, and that meant being happy and content—two emotions she’d have to fake if forced to live in a sham marriage with the man she loved.
‘Is everything all right, dear?’
Kristen nodded at the kindly nurse who had concern in her eyes. ‘Yes. I’m fine.’
The nurse looked doubtful as she moved on to the next couple, casting the occasional glance over her shoulder as if Kristen might follow suit and bolt—okay, waddle—out the door after Nate.
Sorely tempted, she settled back in her seat, constantly wriggling as the pain in her back fluctuated from bearable to agonising, not hearing a word the nurse said as her thoughts centred on Nate and the way he’d reacted to the doll breaking.
That was no ordinary reaction.
He’d practically freaked out, so much so that he wouldn’t have been able to stay for the rest of the class. She might’ve expected that reaction at the actual birth, but losing it over a doll’s leg?
There was something drastically wrong and, though she couldn’t fathom his reasons for bolting like a dad who’d just discovered he had quadruplets rather than twins, come the end of the class she’d find out.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
‘DO YOU mind telling me what your vanishing act was all about?’
Kristen barged right up to Nate in the hospital foyer, just stopping short of stabbing his chest with her finger. ‘Because, the way I see it, there’s no way you’d get that upset and miss the rest of the class over breaking a doll—so what’s the deal?’
‘Let’s talk somewhere more comfortable.’
He took hold of her arm and, rather than pulling away as was her first instinct, she let him lead her to his car. No use letting pride get in the way of a little support, especially considering her back chose that moment to remind her it didn’t fancy her carrying around the extra fourteen kilos or so.
‘Don’t you dare think about starting that engine till you’ve explained everything,’ she said, turning to face him once they’d settled in the car.
‘We can talk at your place,’ he said, running a hand over his eyes as if to block her out.
Fat chance.
‘No way. Start talking. Now.’
‘It’s complicated.’
He fiddled with his keys, jiggling them in his hand till she reached out and grabbed them.
‘You’ve tried that one on me before, and I’ve got to admit it’s sounding about as tired as I feel.’
Sighing, he closed his eyes for a moment and rested his head against the headrest.
‘When I told you Julia died, I didn’t tell you everything.’
Kristen’s heart stilled at the audible pain in Nate’s voice.
‘She was pregnant at the time.’
‘Oh, Nate.’
Kristen reached out blindly, wanting to touch him, to comfort him, to do whatever she could to take away half the agony he must be going through.
Opening his eyes, he turned to face her, his expression unreadable in the darkness of the car.
‘I know I overreacted back there. Stupid, isn’t it? How such a small, insignificant thing like that can ram home how inadequate I felt over Julia’s death and the fact I couldn’t save her or our child.’
Grasping his hand tightly, her heart aching for him, she injected as much warmth, as much love, as she dared into her voice.
‘You can’t blame yourself for what happened. I can’t begin to understand the heartache you must’ve gone through over losing your wife and your child, but medical stuff happens. Stuff you can’t explain or change or fix, no matter how much you want to. And, for what it’s worth, I’m here for you, and I know you’re going to be a great dad for our daughter.’
‘Thanks.’
She caught a glimmer of his smile in the wan light and squeezed his hand, wondering what else he had to say when he opened his mouth before quickly shutting it again.
‘Is there something else?’
‘I’m worried about the birth,’ he said, his voice unsteady as he raised worried eyes to hers. ‘I hate feeling out of control when I can organise the rest of my life with ease. It’s tough.’
Her heart turned over at his honest response. She understood exactly what he was feeling. For a girl who bordered on being a control-freak herself, she wasn’t so rapt about the whole ‘unexpected scenarios’ thing the nurse had stressed in the birthing class.
‘So you’re admitting you’re scared?’
She thought he’d lie, do the macho thing and fob her off with some lame platitude. Instead, he surprised her by taking hold of her other hand, his grip tight.
‘Terrified,’ he said, his expression matching the feeling perfectly.
‘What happened to you being the solid one for us both? What about all those “she’ll be right” pep talks you’ve given me?’
He shrugged, a hint of a smile playing about his mouth.
‘As I remember, you told me to be quiet the last time I tried to give you a confidence boost, though in much more blunt terms.’
She smiled, releasing his hands before she did something stupid like haul him over the console and hug him to death. ‘Must’ve been the hormones talking.’
‘We’re going to get through this. You know that, right?’
She rolled her eyes, determined to lighten the mood. She had enough to w
orry about, without Nate freaking out and turning into a reedy sap rather than the strong oak she’d grown to depend on.
‘Of course we will. As long as you don’t buy our little girl any dolls for Christmas, we’ll be fine.’
He finally smiled, a rueful expression erasing the lines fanning from the corner of his eyes like a worry map.
‘You’re not going to let me forget that episode ever, are you?’
‘Nope.’
‘If you bring it up at her twenty-first, I may have to ensure you never work in the TV industry again.’
She waved away his remark with a smirk. ‘I’ll be a millionaire by then, living off my name alone, consulting for the best producers in town.’
‘Yeah?’
‘Yeah,’ she said, realising they hadn’t traded banter like this in way too long.
They’d been too busy treading on eggshells around each other, all their conversations focussed on the baby and little else.
This felt good. Way too good, and the baby kicked at that precise moment as if reminding her it couldn’t last.
‘I like a confident woman,’ he said, holding out his palm for the keys.
‘And I like a man who admits to a doll phobia,’ she said, plopping the keys into his hand and chuckling when he snatched them away, inserted them in the ignition and started the car with a roar.
‘I’m never going to live this down, am I?’
‘You said it,’ she said, settling back into the plush leather seat, content to concentrate on the inner glow fuelled by the thought of them being together at their daughter’s twenty-first.
A lot could happen in that time—including convincing the gorgeous man beside her what he was missing out on by not giving them a chance.
A real chance, based on love and sizzle, rather than an obligatory proposal reeking of old-fashioned chivalry.
Time would tell, and right now it was enough to hope and dream and look to a future filled with a bouncing baby girl and Nate by her side.
Nate knocked on Kris’s door for the second time, pounding the brass knocker longer and louder before peering through the sheer curtains lining the front window.
A strange sense of foreboding crept through him as he scanned the empty room, wondering why she wasn’t answering the door.
She’d been expecting him, had chewed him out for five minutes about installing the car seat in her car before her due date next week, and he’d hurried over, the slightly hysterical edge to her voice filling him with concern.
When he rapped on the window and got no response, he vaulted the side fence and ran to the back door, relieved to find the flimsy catch unlatched.
‘Kris? You in here?’
He entered the kitchen, trying to keep a lid on his skyrocketing blood pressure. There could be a perfectly logical explanation why she hadn’t answered the door: she could be taking a bath to ease her back pain, or making another of her frequent toilet stops.
However, as he entered the hallway and spied her inert form slumped over the bottom stair, sheer unadulterated panic shot through his system and he ran towards her, haunted by a terrifying sense of déjà vu.
‘Please, God, no,’ he muttered, reaching for her, feeling for a pulse in her neck, almost sagging with relief when he found one.
Gently turning her into the recovery position, he fumbled for his mobile and dialled an ambulance, praying harder than he ever had in his life.
Brushing back her hair, he bent over her, whispering in her ear. ‘Kris, I know you can hear me. Everything’s going to be fine. We have a precious baby girl waiting for her mum to wake up and give me another verbal spray about something, so come on. Wake up, you hear me?’
Her eyelids flickered, and for a second hope overrode the adrenalin surging through his body. But she didn’t open her eyes. She didn’t do anything apart from lie there, looking too still, too lifeless.
He knew he should check for blood, but he couldn’t do it. Seeing her like this was tearing him apart; he couldn’t face the possible evidence that she was losing their baby too.
Sirens grew closer, and he dropped a kiss on her lips before rushing to the door and opening it for the paramedics.
‘She’s in there.’
He pointed to the woman he loved, frozen like a statue as they went to work on her, their precise movements calming yet terrifying at the same time.
Right then, it hit him as he watched the paramedics fiddle with pressure cuffs and stethoscopes and a whole host of intimidating medical paraphernalia skimming over Kris’s body.
He loved her.
Wholeheartedly. Unreservedly. Terrifyingly.
And, as much as he loved their unborn daughter, even if the unthinkable happened and she didn’t survive he would still love Kris and everything she’d become to him.
‘How many weeks is she?’
‘Thirty-nine,’ he said, knowing the baby could be delivered safely now.
If the baby was still alive.
At that moment, Kris’s eyelids fluttered open, her bright blue eyes fixing on him.
‘What’s going on?’ she said, struggling to sit up, confusion clouding her beautiful features.
‘I’m guessing you fainted,’ the older paramedic said, casting Nate a look between exasperation and congratulation.
‘Not again,’ she said, rolling her eyes and sending a horrified look at her dress hiked up around her waist. ‘Is the baby all right? Did I do any damage in the fall?’
The female paramedic laid a reassuring hand on her arm. ‘The baby is fine. The heartbeat is steady and strong.’
‘Thank God.’
Kris’s whisper slammed into him, reinforcing his own overwhelming relief. He crossed the short distance separating them, crouching down to her level, torn between wanting to bundle her into his arms and hug her breathless, and shaking her silly for scaring him like that.
‘Do you have gestational diabetes?’
The female paramedic squatted down next to him and took Kris’s blood pressure, while the other paramedic repacked the emergency case.
Kris shook her head, and he forced himself not to reach out and smooth the tousled blonde waves back from her face.
‘No, though my blood sugar has dipped a few times. The doc told me to pop a jelly bean or barley sugar every time I felt woozy. I was just heading to the kitchen when I must’ve passed out.’
‘Well, your blood pressure’s fine, as are the rest of your vitals.’ The paramedic slid the pressure-cuff off her arm and tucked it away in her jacket of a hundred pockets. ‘You should be fine, but take it easy, okay? This bub wants its mum in tip-top shape when he or she makes its grand entrance into the world.’
‘She,’ Nate and Kris said in unison, their eyes meeting, hers luminous, his relieved.
He’d never known relief till she’d opened her eyes a few minutes ago, the relief backed up by the paramedics pronouncing the baby was fine.
Whatever the cause of her collapse, he knew one thing for sure—he wasn’t going to let her out of his sight ever again.
She could kick, she could scream, she could threaten to tell every media outlet in Australia about the infamous doll incident, but he wasn’t taking no for an answer this time.
They belonged together, now and for ever.
‘Right, we’ll leave you folks to it,’ the male paramedic said, flanking Kris’s other side as they helped her to her feet and to the nearest chair. ‘Take care.’
‘Thanks,’ she said, colour returning to her cheeks as he sent her a glare which read ‘sit there and don’t move a muscle’, before escorting the paramedics out the door and returning to the lounge.
‘You look mad.’
She pointed to the chair next to her, and he marvelled at her resilience while smiling at her bossiness.
Nothing kept this woman down: a move from one country to another, discovering the man she’d probably wanted to forget was her new boss, an unexpected pregnancy, and the odd collapse here or there thro
wn in for good measure.
She was remarkable. Little wonder he’d fallen for her, even if it was the last thing he’d wanted to do.
‘I’m not mad,’ he said, taking a seat next to her, wondering if he should go for the direct approach—which he’d tried and failed before—or lead into it gently.
She leaned across and placed a hand on his forearm, her palm cool against the heat of his skin.
‘Look, I know I must’ve given you a scare when you came in and found me like that. But I’m fine. The baby’s fine. No use getting that look.’
‘What look?’
The corners of her mouth twitched, and he could hardly restrain himself from closing the short distance between them and covering her lips with his. ‘The same look you got before you asked me to move in with you, the same look before your proposal.’
Her other hand reached up and she traced a slow, sensuous path between his brows. ‘You get this funny little frown-line right here. It alerts me to the fact you’re about to say something profound.’
‘I am.’
He missed her touch as she sat back and folded her arms, resting them on her swollen belly.
‘Okay, let me have it. What is it this time—you think I should have a water birth? You’ve hired a police escort to take us to the hospital when the time comes? You—’
‘You talk too much,’ he said, leaning across the chair-arm and kissing her, angling his head for better access, his libido firing on all cylinders as she melted under him, opening her mouth to him.
He could’ve kissed her like this for ever, her lips warm and pliant, her hands clutching his shirt like she’d never let go. If he had his way, she wouldn’t.
The fire they’d created in Singapore had been nothing like this mind-blowing, raging inferno which spread like wildfire and threatened to consume them both.
He’d tried denying the sizzling attraction back then, and his good intentions had ended up like his discarded underwear on the floor of his hotel room.
He’d never believed in fate. Yet some indefinable force had led him to this woman, to this shattering moment when his heart unfurled and swelled with love, a feeling he’d shunned for too long.