To Have the Doctor's Baby

by Teresa Southwick

  There was a knock on her office door and she automatically called out, “Come in.”

  The knob turned, the door opened, the world tilted. Nick stood there with a file folder in his hand.

  “I’ve been looking for you.”

  Well, damn. “Hi to you, too.”

  He was wearing jeans and a light blue cotton shirt that did amazing things to his eyes. It was just one of his extensive repertoire of sexy looks. Double damn.

  “You left early this morning.” His voice had an edge.

  Was he remembering their personal conversation? Wondering how she felt? Had he missed having coffee with her, too? Maybe. But knowing what she knew now, that was nothing more than habit. The way you miss a broken-in pair of sneakers or comfortable, convenient sweatpants.

  Ryleigh swiveled her chair and faced him full on. If he was really interested to know why she hadn’t been there for coffee, he’d have to ask. “I have a lot of work to do.”

  “Is that lunch?” He angled his chin toward the salad plate nestled between the files on her desk.

  “As a matter of fact…”

  “I guess that explains why you weren’t in the cafeteria,” he said, studying her.

  So, he really had been looking for her. The thought produced some heart fluttering before she successfully shut it down.

  She was too tired for guessing games and just asked, “What do you want with me?”

  There was a flicker of fire in his eyes, a clue he’d gone to a double meaning of the sexual kind. Then his mouth curved up. “You have money. I’m here to help you spend it.”

  “Of course you are.” Part of her had hoped that he was here to say he hadn’t meant that he couldn’t care for her in a deeply personal way. She folded her hands and tucked away any lingering disappointment. “So, this is where I clarify something you already know. It’s not my money. Children’s Medical Charities is in charge. And someone reviews all my recommendations. Before you ask, ECMO is off the table.”

  “Why?”

  “According to my boss, there’s so much need in so many areas, a chunk of change like that should be spread around.”

  “It was a long shot anyway.” Nick settled a hip on the corner of her desk.

  “What? No argument?”

  “No point in wasting energy on a lost cause.”

  Words to live by, she thought. But he was talking business. Ryleigh pointed to the folder in his hand. “Something tells me you have another cause in mind.”

  “Plan B.” He handed her the file.

  She opened it and saw several brochures from a medical equipment company. Beneath that there was a spreadsheet and cost analysis.

  “What’s this?”

  “HFOJ.”

  She groaned. “What did I say about acronyms?”

  “High-frequency oscillating jet.”

  “I’m guessing we’re not talking the big jumbo kind that carry passengers from point A to point B?”

  “No.” He grinned. “It’s way better.”

  “Want to dumb it down for me?”

  “Happy to.” He folded his arms over his chest. “It’s a respirator that pushes a lot of small fast breaths. Oxygen flows down the outside of the tube and CO2 goes through the middle.”

  She frowned. “Apparently that’s not dumb enough for me. If the oxygen goes down the outside of the tube, how does it get into the lungs where it needs to go?”

  “It goes down the outside of the inside of the tube,” he explained. “Then the two gases mix and saturate the lungs.”

  “And I guess this is important.”

  “It is when a baby is in IRDS.”

  “Infant respiratory distress syndrome.” She remembered that one. “What causes it?”

  “Infection—either viral or bacterial. Trauma. Car accident or anything else that impacts the chest and lungs.”

  “How much does one of these gizmos cost?”

  “About thirty thousand.” He met her gaze. “For one.”

  She knew him, knew that look. “You want more?”

  “Three would be good. Maybe four.” He stood and rested his palms flat on her desk, leaning forward in his fervor. “If we run three jets, even twenty-five percent of the time, it pays to own the machine.”

  “As opposed to?” She was desperately trying to ignore how good he smelled.

  “Renting. And there’s the time factor. If we don’t have one available for a kid, there’s a critical delay in trying to locate an oscillator and have the thing delivered. Then we have paperwork before getting the patient hooked up. In the long run the hospital saves money and lives.”

  And that right there was why she’d believed deep down that he could care for her. He fought so hard for the kids. She’d just never believed that his passion was exclusively limited to his profession.

  “I’m convinced,” she said.

  He looked surprised. “Really?”

  “Yeah. I’ll forward the information to my boss along with my positive recommendation.”

  “That was too easy,” he said. “I think I’ll hit you up for a new transporter, too.”

  “There’s no acronym?”

  “Nope. Just called a transporter. It looks like an adult gurney with an isolette attached. It has a pulse oximeter, an oscillator and all kinds of cool monitors. We can bring a kid from a less sophisticated facility here for higher-level treatment without sacrificing critical care. Moments after leaving the bed, he’s warm, ventilated and monitored. It’s like a mobile ICU. Intensive Care Unit,” he added.

  “I know ICU,” she said wryly. “We’ll see how far the budget will stretch. I already okayed an expenditure for the Cystic Fibrosis Foundation.”

  His eyes darkened. “You didn’t tell me that.”

  It hadn’t been relevant information to the conversation they were having at the time. And there was no point now in reminding him of what they’d been talking about. This was business. “How expensive is this contraption?”

  “About seventy, seventy-five thousand. A real bargain.” He tilted his head in that coaxing way he had that was even more cute and persuasive than his argument.

  “I’ll think about it. Anything else you absolutely must have?”

  “Of course. But I know I’ll just have to wait and hope.” He looked at her now-soggy salad. “Is that all you’re having for lunch?”

  “Yeah.”

  “It’s not very much.”

  “I’m not very hungry,” she said. And since when do you care? she thought. Being sad made her crabby.

  “Are you feeling okay?”

  He’d noticed her crabby and raised her a dose of considerate. That wasn’t fair. “I’m fine. Just busy and a little tired. That makes me cranky.”

  “Try surly.”

  “If the shoe fits.” She shrugged. “The gala was a success and now it’s decision time. So much money to spend, so little time. I won’t be able to cook dinner tonight.”

  He frowned. “That’s two nights in a row.”

  “You miss my cooking?”

  “It’s not that,” he said.

  “Boy, was that the wrong answer.”

  “Not what I meant. And you set me up.” He pointed a finger at her. “I don’t mind eating later. Let me take you out.” He shrugged. “It’s the least I can do after you bought me so many new toys.”

  He was nearly irresistible like this, but she had to find a way to fight back. “Sorry, Nick. I can’t.”

  “You have to eat.”

  “I will.” She smiled. “Don’t worry about me.”

  “I’ve kind of gotten used to it.”

  “That’s sweet.” She forced herself to smile. “Can I take a rain check?”

  “You got it.” He walked to the door. “See you later?”

  “Yeah.”

  Ryleigh wished Nick had pushed harder to change her mind about dinner but couldn’t really say it was a surprise when he didn’t. One more push and she’d have been his for the asking. But
he accepted a no far too easily. There was nothing in his manner to indicate anything had changed after their bare-your-soul conversation. For him it was business as usual. Business being the operative word. He was fine; she was the one with the problem.

  That meant she had to fix it. And that meant distancing herself from him. She had to put herself on a Nick Damian diet. Why was it that the last bite of forbidden food always tasted the best and made you want more?

  “Ryleigh!” Avery O’Neill opened her condo’s front door wider. “I’m so glad you called. Please tell me you brought Cheetos, Fritos, donuts and cookies to go along with my whine. Make no mistake. That word definitely has an ‘h’ in it. But I’ve got the other kind, too. Red or white?”

  “Red.” Ryleigh followed her friend through the long tiled entry and into the kitchen, then set the bag of junk food on the black granite countertop.

  Avery opened the glass-fronted cupboard door and removed two wineglasses. Then she gasped. “Oh, my god.”

  “What? Did you cut yourself?”

  “No. I didn’t even think to ask. Are you pregnant? Can you drink wine?”

  “No,” Ryleigh said, deep disappointment spreading through her. Somehow her consuming desire for a baby had gotten lost in the complicated mess of her feelings. “And give me a bottle of red. With a straw.”

  “That’s just tacky. You’ll have to make do with a crystal glass and normal portion.”

  “Oh, the indignities I endure being your friend.” Ryleigh smiled and it felt good. She had been so afraid Avery wouldn’t be home for a spur-of-the-moment junk-food girl fest. What with her emotions all over the map, going to Nick’s was out of the question and she didn’t want to be alone. “Are you okay without pizza? Or something else in the general vicinity of good nutrition?”

  “Get real.” Avery poured red wine into the long-stem crystal glasses. “I’m going to eat my weight in chips and candy. If I consume something healthy, there won’t be room for sugar, fat and empty calories.”

  “I see your point.” Ryleigh took her wine and the bag of junk food into the family room and settled on the sofa in front of the fireplace. The gas log was lit and the warmth should have cheered her up. It didn’t. “So, I’m not the only one who needs to talk.”

  “It’s just been crazy at work and that’s all Dr. Stone’s fault.”

  “What is Spencer doing now?”

  “He’s relentless. Every day I walk into work, hopeful and bright, thinking today is the day he’s going to cut me some slack.”

  “And?”

  Avery settled on the sofa and opened the bag of miniature chocolate covered toffee candy bars. They were her favorite.

  “Day after day I open my email first thing and there are a bazillion messages from him. In every subject line he has ‘Urgent’ or ‘911’ or ‘stat.’ He thinks he’s the only one with needs. Every message is a demand for cardiology. He wants more technology or some kind of phaser, tricorder thingy doohickey for the heart catheterization lab.” She opened another candy bar and popped it into her mouth. “You’d think a man like that wouldn’t have the time or energy to harass me.”

  “A man like what?”

  “He sashays around like he’s competing for the title of playboy of the Southwest.” She chewed the candy. “Women take a number to wait in line to fall at his feet. He’s like a rock star. They practically throw their panties at him.”

  “That could be a problem when he’s in surgery. Makes it kind of hard to maintain a sterile field.”

  Avery looked sheepish. “Slight exaggeration for effect.”

  “So, he’s not a womanizer?”

  “No, he is. But I’ve never personally witnessed any panty-throwing. However, the rumor does persist.”

  Ryleigh grabbed a bag of chips, opened it and set it on the sofa between them. “I’m sorry he’s a pain in the neck.”

  “You and me both.” Her friend took a sip of wine and there was a knowing look in her eyes when she said, “Tell me what’s wrong. And, before you wonder how I know that, it was the ‘I’m not the only one who needs to talk’ remark that gave you away. What’s going on with you and Nick? You’re not pregnant?”

  “No.”

  “Have you had sex?”

  “Yes.”

  “Are you worried that you can’t get pregnant?” her friend persisted.

  “Not yet.”

  Avery sighed. “At least one of us is having sex. I wish it was me.”

  “No, you don’t.”

  “Uh-oh.” The other woman opened another candy bar and dropped the wrapper on the growing stack beside her. “That bad, huh?”

  “No, it was amazing actually.” It was like when they were first married. She wanted to hang on to the joy and excitement, but knew now there was no way to do that.

  Avery chewed thoughtfully, then swallowed. “So, if sex was awesome but I shouldn’t wish I was having it, that means you were unsuccessful in your attempt to ‘man up’ and have no feelings.”

  “That’s what I love about you. Right in one without a lengthy explanation.”

  “So you’ve fallen in love with him again.”

  “Again would imply that somewhere along the line I stopped loving him. And now I know I never did.”

  “Oh, sweetie—” Avery reached over and squeezed her hand. “So, you’re still in love with a heartless workaholic.”

  “I can’t really say he works like he used to. He’s auditioning a medical partner.”

  “Okay.” Her friend nodded, absorbing that information. “So now he has more time to be heartless.”

  “He’s not,” Ryleigh defended. “If anything he cares too much.”

  “So, what’s changed?”

  “Nothing. He’s still the same intense Nick.”

  “Then I don’t get it.” Avery tucked her legs up beside her. “You were heartbroken because Nick didn’t care enough to carve out time for you. What’s different? Does he want to give it another try?”

  “That’s just it. I found out he never really wanted to try in the first place.” Ryleigh explained about his father and mother, then the second marriage and losing Todd. “It’s a lot of baggage for him to carry around.”

  “No kidding. The man buries himself in work to avoid coping with complicated, messy emotions he doesn’t want to feel in the first place.”

  “Exactly.” Ryleigh took a sip of wine.

  “So, he’s got abandonment issues.”

  “It sounds like a cliché.” But when one was head over heels in love and on the receiving end of reluctance to commit, it didn’t feel clichéd. It just hurt. “But that’s pretty much right on target.”

  “And then he takes a chance, gets married and you walk out on him just like everyone else.”

  If Ryleigh had just sipped wine, she’d be spitting it out now. “What?”

  “You abandoned him.” In spite of the words there was sympathy in her friend’s blue eyes. “I know you were hoping he’d come after you, but to him you were one more person who left.”

  “I thought you were on my side.”

  “Oh, sweetie, I am. That’s why I have to be the voice of objectivity. Look at it from his perspective.”

  When the flash of anger flamed out, Ryleigh did just that. “Oh, God, Avery. You’re right. And it’s no excuse that I was young and stupid.”

  “Sure it is.”

  “No. He didn’t talk about his past and I didn’t push him for information. I should have.”

  “Shoulda, woulda, coulda. What are you? The relationship police?” Avery sat cross-legged, facing her. “It takes two people to make a couple. You couldn’t do it on your own. He has to take some of the responsibility for what went wrong.”

  “I left because he hurt me a lot,” she said.

  “Not a newsflash. I was the one who held you when you cried. The question is what you’re going to do now that you know all his demons.”

  “I’m not sure.”

  “Okay. Then ho
w about this. Are you still looking for the fairy tale?”

  Ryleigh laughed. That seemed so silly and immature now. But she had been that girl with the stars in her eyes. The one who believed in happy ever after with a family of her own. Now that she knew it would only happen with Nick and he wasn’t likely to take a chance on her again, she figured the fairy tale had just fractured into a thousand pieces.

  “No. Fairy tales don’t exist. But…”

  “What?”

  “Before you asked what was different this time and I think the answer to that question is me.”

  “How so?”

  “There are no rose-colored glasses. No pedestals and hero worship. No delirious giddiness. I know Nick the man. This time the feelings are just honest and soul-deep and there.” She smiled sadly at her friend. “Thanks for not saying I told you so.”

  “About what?”

  “That I couldn’t come out of this baby bargain with Nick unscathed.”

  “Oh. Wish I’d thought of it. I would have said it if I’d remembered.” Avery shrugged and her feisty factor slipped considerably. “You also vowed that there was no way you’d get hurt.”

  “Sorry. I think I broke that promise—”

  A tidal wave of emotions slammed her and choked off the words. Before she could stop them tears started rolling down her cheeks. “Oh, sweetie—”

  And once again her friend Avery was holding her while she cried. In a few moments she managed to get the storm under control. After a sniffle and brushing the moisture off her cheeks, she tried to smile. “Okay. I feel better now. Thanks for listening.”

  “Any time. You’d do the same for me.” Avery grinned, then turned serious. “But I have to ask because what are friends for except to ask the tough questions—”

  “It’s okay. Ask.”

  “Knowing what you know now, are you going to keep trying for a baby with Nick?”

  That wasn’t a tough question. It was an impossible one. Her yearning for Nick’s baby was even stronger than when she’d come back to town.

  She answered honestly. “I wish I knew.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  It wasn’t the ham sandwich and beer for dinner that Nick minded. That did its job and killed the hunger pains. What he minded was the non-specific pain he felt without Ryleigh. This was almost two weeks of nights without her there. Nights where she arrived so late she went straight to bed. Every day he expected her to announce she was moving back to her apartment, but she didn’t. She just kept not showing up.