0373659504 (R)

by Brenda Harlen

  “I’m sure it wasn’t as simple and straightforward as you make it sound.”

  She shrugged, but Justin wasn’t fooled by the gesture. “There really wasn’t a lot of drama—they both had very busy lives, demanding careers. Truthfully, I’m not sure how they decided that they wanted to live separate and apart, because I don’t really remember them ever being in the same place together.” She shrugged. “For whatever reason, they decided to split and share custody of me and Ryder. We spent one week with Mom, the next with Dad, and alternated holidays. It was all very civil and reasonable.”

  And confusing, he imagined, for a child who might never feel sure where she belonged—or if there was anywhere she did.

  “Did both of them being doctors have anything to do with your decision to go into medicine?”

  “My brother thinks so. He claims it was a last and desperate attempt to get them to notice me—to finally do something that was worthy of their attention.

  “I’m ashamed to admit that it might have been true, at least in the beginning. But once I started med school, I knew I’d found what I was meant to do. And I didn’t need their approval so much as I needed to succeed for myself, because I couldn’t imagine any other career.”

  “It shows,” he told her. “The way you are with your patients and coworkers—there’s no doubt medicine is your calling.”

  She glanced away, as if uncertain how to respond, but finally murmured softly, “Thank you.”

  “So why obstetrics?” he asked.

  “I guess that was partly a way of proving that I was different from both of them. I might have followed generally in their footsteps, but it was a specialty that was uniquely mine. And it’s a lot of fun to deliver babies.”

  “Why do you think your brother chose to pursue a career outside of the medical field?”

  “I would have said pure obstinacy,” she said. “Ryder is brilliant. His marks in high school were far superior to mine. He could have done anything he wanted—he could have been a doctor or an engineer, a college professor or an astrophysicist. It took me a long time to accept that he didn’t throw away his choices to spite our parents, that he’s doing exactly what he wants.”

  “Now that wasn’t so bad, was it?” he asked, when he pulled into a visitor’s parking spot beside her building.

  “What?”

  “Making conversation, getting to know one another.”

  “No,” she agreed. “It wasn’t so bad at all.”

  “Then maybe we could do this again.”

  “Dinner with your parents?”

  He smiled. “That, too.”

  * * *

  It was almost one thirty by the time Avery stripped off her soiled gloves and gown, and she was on the schedule at Wellbrook for two o’clock. She’d been called in to the ER to deal with a suspected ectopic pregnancy that ended up rupturing while the patient was undergoing an ultrasound exam. The patient had lost a lot of blood and one of her fallopian tubes, but she was going to be fine. Avery was relieved—and exhausted.

  She took a quick shower in the women’s locker room in a desperate effort to revive her flagging energy. When she exited into the staff lounge, she found Justin waiting for her.

  He held up a prepackaged sandwich and a carton of milk from the cafeteria. “I brought you lunch.”

  “I’m not hungry.”

  “I don’t care if you’re not hungry,” he told her. “You have to eat.”

  “I don’t have time to eat right now. I’ve got to be at Wellbrook—”

  “You have to take care of yourself,” he admonished, his tone gentle but firm as he nudged her toward a chair. “Sit.”

  “I have to go,” she said again.

  “Is there an emergency at the clinic?”

  She huffed out a breath. “No, but—”

  “Then sit.”

  She hated being pushed around. She hated men who thought they could push women around. But the fact was, she was so hungry she was feeling a little dizzy, and she was afraid if she didn’t capitulate and sit down voluntarily, she might fall down. So she sat.

  He peeled back the plastic wrapping and handed her half the sandwich.

  She took a bite. “Where’s the mustard?”

  He took a handful of packets—both mustard and mayo—out of his pocket and tossed them onto the small table beside her.

  She didn’t really want mustard. She’d only asked for it because she was being difficult and ungrateful, but she opened a packet, peeled the bread away from the roast beef, and squirted the condiment onto the meat.

  She ate the sandwich, dutifully drank the milk. “Can I go now?”

  “That depends.”

  “On what?” she asked warily.

  He took a huge chocolate chip cookie out of his other pocket. “On whether or not you want dessert.”

  Her gaze locked on the cookie and her mouth started to water. “I definitely want dessert.”

  He grinned and passed her the cookie. “Feeling better now?”

  “I am,” she admitted. “Thanks.”

  “You do know that the world’s not going to stop turning if you slow down a little?”

  She nodded. “I know. And I am taking care of the baby—I promise.”

  “Do you really think all I care about is the baby?”

  She frowned as if she didn’t understand the question.

  Justin hunkered down beside her chair and laid his hands on her knees. He immediately felt the muscles in her thighs tighten—Avery withdrawing. He’d thought it was just him, but watching her over the past several weeks, he realized that she wasn’t freezing only him out—she froze almost everyone out. Aside from her best friend and her brother, she didn’t seem to let anyone get too close. The realization challenged rather than discouraged him.

  “Has no one ever taken care of you?” he asked gently.

  She was silent for a minute before she responded. “Hennie.”

  “Who?”

  “Henrietta was the nanny we had when Ryder and I were little, but we called her Hennie.”

  “And if Hennie said to you, ‘Avery Wallace—you need to eat,’ what would you do?”

  “I’d eat,” she admitted.

  “So eat,” he suggested.

  She unwrapped the cookie.

  “I know you have a job to do,” he said to her. “But it’s also your job to take care of yourself and our baby.”

  Our baby.

  He said the words so casually, so easily.

  Then he touched his lips to hers, the kiss as casual and easy as his words.

  And she thought—at least in the moment—that maybe they could do this.

  Just because her hormones immediately went into overdrive every time he was near didn’t mean that she had to do anything about it. They could be friends and coparents of their baby without muddying things up with unnecessary attraction or emotions.

  Maybe.

  * * *

  Justin was generally pretty good at reading people, and he was confident that Avery would come to accept that he was going to be part of her life. Unfortunately, he wasn’t confident that it would happen before their baby was born.

  He deliberately stayed out of her way for a few days, to give her a chance to relax. He knew she was sensitive to hospital gossip, and even he was aware that there had been some talk about the two of them spending time together. There would be a lot more when word got out that she was going to have his baby so, for now, he backed off a little.

  Until he got a call on the afternoon of February 29 that drew him to the maternity ward.

  “You’re a little far from the ER, aren’t you, Dr. Garrett?”

  “I had to come and take a peek at my cousin’s baby,” he said, gesturing to the bassinet with a tag that said ‘Schulte’ on it.

  “Almost nine pounds and twenty-two inches, and Mom barely batted an eyelash,” Avery told him.

  “You delivered him?”

  She shook her head. “I just ca
ught him—Mom did all the work.”

  “Lauryn’s second,” he explained. “Although I seem to recall that Kylie didn’t give her much trouble when she was born, either. Of course, those are the ones that my mother always says you need to worry about when they hit their teen years.”

  “Which of her sons did she need to worry about the most?” Avery asked.

  “Probably me,” he admitted.

  “Why am I not surprised?”

  He grinned and slid an arm across her shoulders. “Was Lauryn’s husband there when the baby was born?”

  She shook her head.

  “Figures,” he said. “It’s the story of his life—expecting his wife to handle everything on her own.”

  “She wasn’t alone,” Avery told him. “Her sister—Tristyn—was with her.”

  He chuckled. “I would have paid to have seen that. Tristyn practically passes out if she gets a paper cut.”

  “Well, she held up very well in the delivery room. She did look a little green at first, but after I suggested that she stay at the head of the bed, away from all of the activity, she was fine.”

  “Is it different now?” he asked.

  Despite the apparent disconnect from their previous topic, she understood what he was asking and nodded in response.

  “Delivering babies has always been my favorite part of the job,” she told him. “There’s something incredibly satisfying about helping to bring a new life into the world—especially when the mothers do most of the work.

  “It was only today that I realized it’s not going to be so long until I’m the one actually pushing a baby out of my body. And suddenly, it wasn’t just amazing—it was a little scary.”

  “I’ll be there with you,” he told her.

  “You can’t guarantee that. You could be—”

  “I’ll be there with you,” he said again.

  She was quiet for a minute before she said, “What if I don’t want you there?”

  “You don’t know what you want.”

  Her brows lifted but she didn’t deny it.

  “So I’ll be there,” he said again. “Every day, every step of the way, until you realize it is what you want.”

  * * *

  The original plan not to tell anyone about Avery’s pregnancy until she was past the first trimester changed when she registered to attend the Spring Conference on Women’s Sexual Health Issues in Atlanta the second weekend in March. Deciding that it would be the opportune time to share the news with her parents, they agreed to tell Justin’s family about the baby the weekend prior.

  Ellen cooked another delicious meal—baked lemon-and-herb chicken breasts served with a creamy risotto and green beans. Avery had again brought dessert, this time an apple crisp.

  After everyone had consumed their fill, Justin reached for her hand and linked their fingers together. She might have thought his action was a show of togetherness for his parents’ sake except that their hands were beneath the table where no one else could see. For some reason, that fact made the gesture all the more reassuring.

  “We’ve got some news to share,” he told his parents.

  “You’re getting married?” his mother guessed, her expression hopeful.

  “No,” Avery said quickly, sending a panicked look in Justin’s direction.

  He squeezed her fingers reassuringly. “We’re going to have a baby.”

  Ellen drew in a quick breath. “A baby,” she echoed, her whispered tone almost reverent. Then her attention shifted to Avery for confirmation. “Really?”

  She nodded.

  “Oh, that’s even better than a wedding,” Ellen decided, sounding sincerely thrilled by the news. “Although a wedding and a baby would be even better still.”

  This time Avery squeezed Justin’s hand—a silent and desperate plea.

  “Let’s just focus on the baby right now,” he suggested.

  “Of course,” his mother agreed. “This is definitely cause for celebration. John—is there any champagne downstairs? Wait—what am I thinking? We don’t want champagne but sparkling grape juice. Do we have a bottle of that?”

  “I can go check,” her husband told her.

  “Please do,” Ellen urged. Then, when John got up from the table, she said, “Justin, go help your father. Half the time he can’t find his nose on his face.”

  He looked at Avery. She knew he wasn’t actually asking for permission so much as seeking confirmation that she didn’t mind him abandoning her with his mother. She managed a weak—and probably not very convincing—smile.

  “I’ll be right back,” he promised.

  “Glasses,” Ellen said, popping up from her seat. “We’ll need glasses.”

  Avery got up from the table to start clearing away the dessert plates while Justin’s mother opened the cabinet for the champagne glasses.

  “No, no,” Ellen admonished. “I’ll take care of that later. Please sit and rest—and tell me how you’re feeling. Are you experiencing any morning sickness?”

  She shook her head. “Some occasional queasiness, but nothing too serious.”

  “I was sick as a dog through the first trimester with each of the boys,” Justin’s mother confided. “It started somewhere around week three and didn’t let up until week twelve, but then I never had any further problems.” She brought the crystal flutes to the table. “How far along are you? When is the baby due?”

  “Almost ten weeks. The baby is due September twenty-fourth.”

  “September seems so far right now, but really, the months will fly by.” Her eyes misted. “And we’ll have a new grandbaby before Christmas.”

  “You’re really not upset about this?” Avery asked cautiously.

  “I’m not going to lie,” Ellen said. “I would have preferred if there had been a wedding before a baby, but I understand that things don’t always work out the way we plan.

  “I’ve always worried about Justin,” she continued. “Because despite his active social life, I could tell that he was lonely. Not that he would ever admit it, of course, but I was anxious for him to find the right woman, to finally realize how much he wanted to share his life with someone.”

  She reached across the table and took Avery’s hands. “I’m so glad he found you, and I’m overjoyed that you’re going to have a baby together.”

  * * *

  While Ellen was talking to Avery, her husband was silent as he made his way down the stairs.

  “You haven’t said anything about the baby,” Justin said, when they reached the climate-controlled wine cellar.

  “I’m not quite sure what to say,” his father admitted.

  He nodded. “My initial reaction was pretty much the same.”

  “Then this wasn’t planned?”

  Justin shook his head.

  “Have you talked about getting married?” John asked.

  “Avery likes to take things one step at a time.”

  “Having a baby doesn’t give you the luxury of leisure,” his father warned as he scanned the labels. “Sparkling grape juice, apple grape, sparkling cider, cranberry-orange and fizzy peach-pomegranate juice.”

  “Why do you have so many choices?” Justin asked.

  “Your mother insists on having it on hand for the kids.”

  “Avery likes cranberry juice, so let’s go with that one.”

  John opened the door and pulled the bottle from the shelf. “How much else do you know about her?”

  Something in his father’s tone got his back up. “What are you asking?”

  “Where’s she from?”

  “Atlanta originally, but she attended med school and did her training in Boston.”

  “How did she end up in Charisma?” John pressed.

  “I don’t know,” he admitted.

  “Did she chase after you?”

  The question was so outrageous he couldn’t help but laugh. “No, Dad. I chased her. For more than three years.”

  His father frowned at that. “Some wome
n play hard to get on purpose—it’s part of the game to snag a wealthy husband.”

  “Not Avery. If you want the truth, she’d probably prefer if I wasn’t the father of her baby.”

  John didn’t look convinced. “Does she know that you have an interest in Garrett Furniture?”

  Justin sighed. “I promise you, she’s not after my company shares.”

  “You should think about a prenup, anyway.”

  “A prenup assumes there are going to be nuptials,” he pointed out, already not liking the direction of this conversation.

  “You need to protect your assets,” John warned. “And your parental rights.”

  “Whether or not Avery and I get married, I will be part of this baby’s life from the beginning,” he said, trying to keep his escalating anger in check. “My child won’t need to come looking for me on Father’s Day twenty-something years from now.”

  His father’s face flushed. “You know damn well I would have been in Nora’s life from the beginning if I’d known she was my daughter.”

  He nodded. “I guess I just wonder if you would still have been in mine. If your lover had told you that she was pregnant with your child, would you have left Mom to be with her?”

  “How can you even ask that question?” John asked indignantly. “You know I love your mother.”

  “Did you love her even when you were screwing around on her?”

  A muscle in his father’s jaw ticked. “I’m not going to discuss this with you.”

  “That’s fine,” Justin agreed. “Because I really don’t want the details—and I don’t intend to take relationship advice from a man who couldn’t honor his own wedding vows.”

  “I made a mistake,” John said wearily.

  “Locking your keys in the car is a mistake. Washing whites with colors is a mistake. A ten-month affair while your wife is raising your three kids and caring for her ailing mother?” He shook his head. “That’s selfish and self-indulgent behavior.”

  He didn’t wait for his father’s response—he wasn’t willing to listen to any more of his excuses. He turned and carried the bottle of juice upstairs.

  Chapter Twelve