“About what?” Cecelia said. Clearly, her pregnancy was going well. She ate an astonishing amount of lasagna with no consequences as far as Simone could see.
“I don’t want to make a big deal about this pregnancy. Especially not this early, not when there’s a chance I could miscarry.”
“Lots of people wait until after the first trimester to make any kind of announcement.”
“True. But you know how gossip flies in this town. The fact that I was taken from my office on a stretcher is not a secret.”
“You’ll figure something out,” Cecelia said breezily. She grabbed her sweater and purse. “I’ve gotta run. I’m meeting Deacon for a late dessert.”
“Oh, Cecelia. Why didn’t you tell me? You should have dropped off the lasagna and had dinner with your brand-new fiancé.”
Cecelia’s grin was cheeky. “Don’t be silly. That lucky man gets to eat dinner with me the rest of his life. He won’t begrudge me one evening with a sick friend.”
“I’m doing better, honestly.”
“Good. ’Cause to tell you the truth, Naomi had me worried after she saw you the other night.”
“Let her know I’m fine.”
“I will.” Cecelia hugged her. “I’ll call you tomorrow. Don’t worry about the campaign. You’re the most important thing to me. Love you, hon.”
And with that, Simone’s gorgeous friend blew out the door.
Simone stood at the living room window and watched the car fly down the driveway and onto the main road. Suddenly, she was aware of the crushing silence in the house. No Cecelia or Naomi. No Barb. No Hutch.
He had talked about staying three nights, but she was better now. All her tests had come back with good results. The nurse had removed the IV and packed up all the paraphernalia to take back to the hospital. There was absolutely no reason for Hutch to return.
Life was back to normal. Almost.
Telling herself she wasn’t depressed, Simone took a shower and changed into an old pair of yoga pants and an oversize T-shirt. She’d spent far too much time in bed. She wanted to get outside and breathe the fresh spring air.
Not bothering to put on shoes, she opened the back door and made her way down the steps. Dr. Fetter had said moderate exercise was helpful, so Simone had no qualms about risking the babies. The healthier she was, the healthier they were.
Outside, she perked up instantly. Her gardener was a genius. Flowers and ornamental shrubs and fruit trees met and mingled in a display that was appealing without being too formal. In the center of it all lay a deep, verdant lawn. It reminded her of the quad at college where this time of year she and her friends would toss Frisbees and sunbathe and study when they absolutely had to...
All of that seemed like a lifetime ago.
The evening air was cooler than usual. She wrapped her arms around her waist and meandered aimlessly. There in the corner might be a good spot for a play structure. Swings and a slide and maybe even a tiny house with real windows and miniature furniture inside.
It was fun to daydream, because she wanted to be a good mother. She wanted her children to grow up feeling loved and supported. If she had a boy who aspired to be a ballet dancer or a girl who loved fire engines, she would nurture them and help them follow their dreams.
But what happened when the babies grew old enough to ask about their father? What would she say? Stricken by her own selfishness and shortsightedness, she fell to her knees and covered her face with her hands. The scope and ramifications of her mistake were crushing. How could she ever make this right?
She blamed the cry fest on hormones. The tears leaked between her fingers and spotted the front of her shirt. In the spacious yard surrounded by a tall privacy fence, she faced the enormity of what she had done. There was no one to see her break down...no one to witness the moment she hit bottom.
Later, she wasn’t sure how long she’d been kneeling there in the grass. She only knew that her knees were sore and her skin covered in gooseflesh when a very familiar voice said her name.
“Simone?”
Eight
Hutch hadn’t meant to come. He’d had a hell of a long day. He was exhausted, and he needed seven or eight straight hours of uninterrupted sleep.
Despite all that, here he was at Simone’s house. Again.
He crouched beside her in the grass, touching her shoulder briefly. “What’s wrong, Simone? Are you hurt?” Her hair shielded her expression.
She jumped to her feet and backed away from him, rubbing the tears from her face with two hands. Her smile didn’t reach her eyes. “Hormones,” she said lightly. “You should know all about that. Crazy pregnant women.”
After last night, he’d wondered if Simone might want more from him than medical advice. Apparently not.
He took a moment to absorb the breath-stealing realization that she was not happy to see him. Her response was painful and unexpected. It was just as well. Hadn’t he come tonight for the express purpose of telling her there was nothing between them? He wasn’t prepared to risk his heart a third time. He had an important new job and little opportunity for a social life, much less a love affair.
“Barb told me you’re improving slightly,” he said.
“Yes. Especially in the evenings. Cecelia brought me lasagna. I managed some of that. And bread.”
“Good.” Fourteen hours ago they had been naked together in her bed. Now she could barely look at him. “I won’t stay tonight,” he said. It was a statement, but it came out sounding like a question. Would she ask him to change his mind?
“I know,” she said, her gaze wary. “No need.”
He cursed beneath his breath. She was far too pale. “Simone, I—”
She held up her hand. “I think we both know what last night was,” she said. “Curiosity. Echoes of the past. Let’s not beat ourselves up over it. Even if you wanted a repeat, I would have to say no. I need to start planning for my new family. If I hang around with you, the temptation will always be there to lean on you for help. I can’t afford to do that.”
“Everybody needs a hand at times.”
“You know what I mean.”
He did. All too well. She was putting up walls. Shutting him out.
He should be relieved. “If you go back to work, please pace yourself. Otherwise, you’ll wind up in the same situation as before.”
“I understand. You can trust me, Hutch. I want these babies to be safe and healthy. I won’t be stupid, I promise.”
He nodded. “I should go.”
“One more thing.” She seemed to hesitate, as if searching for the right words. “I appreciate all you’ve done for me, Hutch. Later on, when I’m stronger, I’d like to make dinner for you. No strings attached,” she said quickly. “Just friends.”
“Okay. But you know it’s not necessary.”
“I want to.”
“Just let me know.” For some reason, he couldn’t get his feet to move. “You still have my card? My phone number?” There was so much they weren’t saying.
“I do.” She seemed lonely and forlorn.
“Good luck, Simone.”
“Thank you.”
* * *
Simone watched him walk around the side of the house and disappear. The hollow feeling in her chest would get better. It had to. She was done with tears for now.
As she headed back inside, she didn’t feel sleepy yet. Watching television wasn’t appealing. Instead, she decided to measure one of the guest rooms. Upstairs, she had three guest rooms. The main level of the house included her master suite and a fourth guest room. That might make the best nursery.
She made a few notes and pursed her lips. How did one handle triplets? Did all three babies share? Three cribs in one space? What if one kid woke up in the middle of the nigh
t and started crying? Wouldn’t that bother the other two?
Abandoning her architectural conundrum, she went in search of the box of books Hutch had dropped by earlier in the week. She planned to start with something simple, perhaps one of the parenting guides. The medical books would be too scary. She didn’t want to think about complications, even in a theoretical sense.
With a cup of decaf coffee and a cozy lap blanket, she curled up in her favorite chair in the bedroom and started to read. It wasn’t only the advice about being a mom of multiples she needed, it was advice about everything. She felt woefully unprepared for motherhood.
At the end of a chapter, she closed the book and stared out the window. It was dark now, that time when problems grew bigger and optimism winnowed away. What would have happened if Hutch had come home a year sooner? Would she have pursued the same course? Her grandfather’s death had rattled her...that and his will.
For now, the circumstances of the will were private, but Maverick seemed to know something about it. Perhaps she should go to the police. A cybercrimes expert might be able to use her laptop and trace the blackmailer’s IP address.
Still, that would involve exposing her secrets, and she was scared. How would Hutch look at Simone if he learned the truth? It wasn’t about the money, not really. She wanted to be recognized as a full-fledged member of the Parker family. Her father had made no secret of his disappointment that he had no son. Her grandfather had felt the same way about having only a granddaughter. Simone, as successful and ambitious as she was, was a poor substitute for two men who should have known better.
It was a skirmish she had fought her entire life. Unfortunately, in the heat of battle sometimes a person made mistakes. Simone’s was a whopper. Only time would tell if she could survive the fallout.
* * *
The following morning, she made it to work more or less on time. She had set her alarm earlier than usual in order to give herself time to be sick. It was a ghastly way to start the day. Still, she counted it a victory that she had to dash to the bathroom only twice. Maybe she would be one of the lucky ones and this nausea business would eventually subside.
Her two key employees were back from the conference, so the three of them dug into the campaign for Cecelia’s business. Candace must have given them some kind of report on her health, but Simone’s associates were too professional and kind to grill her. Until she started showing, she hoped to be able to conceal her pregnancy and carry on as usual.
Unfortunately, even though the nausea was no longer as severe, her energy level was nonexistent. She had many, many months to go, but already these babies were impacting her life. It must have been sheer naïveté that made her think the adjustments would happen only after the birth.
For ten days, she had no contact with Hutch at all. Even when she visited Dr. Fetter’s office at the hospital, there was no sign of the man who had returned from Africa...the man who recently shared her bed for one incredible night. Even at her lowest point, being intimate with Hutch again had made her feel like a desirable woman.
She told herself his absence from her life was for the best, and she almost believed it.
Fortunately, she was able to roll out the last of the campaign for Luna Fine Furnishings without incident and right on time. Cecelia was ecstatic. Deacon treated the three friends to dinner to celebrate. He probably enjoyed being out on the town with a trio of attractive women, but in truth, he had eyes only for Cecelia.
Simone laughed and talked during the meal, but it was hard to keep up a celebratory front. Though she was thrilled for Cecelia, it hurt to see the way Deacon looked at his bride-to-be. Simone had practically guaranteed that she would never have that kind of relationship. What kind of man would want to take on an instant family, including babies that weren’t his?
She picked at her salmon, pushing the meal around on her plate so her friends would think she was eating. Unfortunately, no matter how hard she tried, she was still losing weight rather than gaining. Many pregnant women would love to have her problem, but it wasn’t good for the babies.
April came to an end. May dawned with blue skies and balmy temperatures. Simone missed Hutch terribly. Knowing he was living in Royal was somehow worse than when he had been on the other side of the world.
Work became her salvation. She managed to keep her pregnancy under wraps from most of Royal, but she decided to tell her parents, come what may. She spent an uncomfortable afternoon at their house trying to explain convincingly why she’d taken the route she did.
She suspected that both her mother and her father knew she was going out of her way to fulfill the conditions of her grandfather’s will, but they didn’t press her. Perhaps her father was willing to overlook an indiscretion or poor judgment if he finally got the boy he’d always wanted.
What if all three babies were girls? What then? In that situation, Simone would have satisfied the letter of the law, but would her father still be disappointed? That would be hard to bear.
After the first few days of the month, spring began to feel like summer. The higher temperatures made Simone’s nausea worse. She lived off decaf iced tea and fresh-squeezed lemonade. On the hottest days, even the mention of food was enough to make her ill.
Though she tried her best to eat, she wasn’t keeping up. She grew weak and listless, and one morning she couldn’t convince herself to crawl out of bed. Naomi was at a convention on the West Coast. Cecelia and Deacon had flown off to Bermuda for a quick holiday.
Simone was alone in her misery.
Around noon she knew she had to eat something. When she sat up on the side of the bed, the room spun around her. Hutch’s number was programmed into her phone. All she had to do was call him.
Did he really care? Was it the doctor in him who had made the offer, or the lover? Had Simone alienated him? She never had issued the official thank-you dinner invitation, mostly because she hadn’t been well enough to cook.
Stumbling to the kitchen, she held on to the walls for support. She felt terrible. This was more than simple nausea. She had a pain in her left side, and a terrible sense of foreboding. When the cramping started low in her abdomen, she panicked.
She had forgotten to bring her phone to the kitchen. It was an agonizing trip back to the bedroom to retrieve it. With fumbling fingers, she found Hutch’s name and hit the call button.
One ring. Two. Please, God, let him pick up.
On the fourth ring, he answered. “Simone. It’s nice to hear from you.” Obviously the caller ID let him know it was her. The sound of his voice was enough to calm her a fraction.
“I’m sorry to bother you, Hutch. Can you stop by after work? I’m not feeling very well.”
His voice sharpened. “Can you drive yourself to the hospital?”
“No... I...” Her throat clogged with tears. “Never mind,” she whispered. “Never mind...”
* * *
Hutch heard a noise on the other end of the line as if the phone had been dropped. His heart plummeted to his stomach. He shoved the stack of charts he was holding into a nearby nurse’s hands and grimaced. “I have to leave. Get Dr. Henry to cover my appointments. I’ll let you know when I’ll be back.”
“Is everything okay, Doctor?”
“I don’t know,” he said grimly.
He jumped in his car and headed across town. On the way, he called Janine Fetter and explained the situation. Today was her day off. Fortunately, they were old friends. She agreed to meet him at Simone’s house.
Hutch arrived first by minutes only. Simone always hid her extra key in the same place, even at a new address. He tipped over the flowerpot, retrieved the key and burst through the door, leaving it ajar for Janine.
The steps from the front door to Simone’s bedroom seemed to happen in slow motion. He found her in a heap on the carpet, her face ashen. Her pul
se was sluggish. She was clammy and barely responsive.
“Simone!” He said her name sharply, trying to cut through the fog.
Her eyelids fluttered. “Hutch? You came?”
“Of course I did,” he said, cradling her in his arms. “Why are you so damned hardheaded?”
Janine arrived right about then and assessed the situation in a glance. Hutch didn’t even care. The other doctor smiled at him gently. “Put her in bed and I’ll examine her. You wait in the other room.”
He bristled. “But I—”
She touched his arm lightly, with sympathy in her eyes. “I don’t think you can be impartial about this one. Let me see what’s going on. You need to take a few minutes to pull yourself together. Are the babies yours?”
The question caught him off guard. He wanted them to be. But they weren’t. “Of course not,” he muttered. “You know she had IUI with a sperm donor.”
Janine shrugged. “I’ve seen doctors falsify charts for a friend. I’m not judging.”
“Well, they’re not mine,” he growled. “You’ll see that soon enough when you deliver them.” Standing awkwardly, he carried Simone to the bed. “Do we need an ambulance?”
“What do you think?” Janine’s grin was wry. He was acting like a total basket case.
“Sorry,” he said. “She’s stable. So, no.”
“Go on, Hutch. Get yourself a stiff drink. I’ll yell for you in a few minutes.”
He paced from the bedroom down the hall to the kitchen. There he saw that Simone had tried to fix herself a sandwich. The jar of mustard was still open, and a grilled chicken breast languished on a plate.
The situation was unacceptable. He should have known from the beginning that she was going to need a babysitter. This kind of pregnancy was tricky. Simone was too inexperienced to know what she was facing.
It seemed like hours before Janine summoned him, but according to his watch, only twenty minutes had elapsed. He found Simone awake but chastened. Janine sat on the end of the bed. “I’ve given our patient a stern talking-to,” she said.
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