by Ann Mcintosh
But it didn’t stop him from checking his phone every couple of minutes, anxiety like a tangle of barbed wire in his gut.
Pounding along the sand, he let the events of the last couple of days play over and over in his mind. It was surreal—life swinging from ecstatic to familiar nightmare in just a few hours.
Nychelle was pregnant. Not just pregnant but at high risk for miscarriage too.
Just the thought made him shiver, his skin pebbling with goose bumps despite the heat.
Hearing that had filled him with a fear so strong he’d felt nauseated. Memories of Natalie and the aftermath of her too-early birth had flooded his head; Kitty’s screamed recriminations, coming at a time when he’d hardly been able to handle the loss of their baby. The slamming of the door when she’d left to go back to South Carolina, which had seemed to echo like a gunshot in his soul. The agonizing pain and guilt.
He’d lost everything when Natalie died, and now he was facing the same heartbreak all over again.
The fact that it wasn’t his child didn’t make a difference. It was Nychelle’s child, and that made him or her special. Important.
He couldn’t love a woman and not love her child.
And he loved Nychelle.
But he couldn’t be with her, even if she wanted him to be. The terror pushing at him wouldn’t allow it. The devastation he’d endured couldn’t be repeated.
It would break him completely to go through it all again.
He’d felt the cracks opening in the armor keeping him safe as he’d listened to her. Her words had rendered him too broken to react—he’d barely been able to breathe. After she’d left the room he’d realized his hands were shaking, as though with ague. She’d been so upset by what he’d said, had looked so fragile as she’d walked into the bedroom, and his stomach twisted with anxiety as he thought of her being alone after she left.
He knew her independent streak, knew she wouldn’t tell any of her family what had happened, and that spurred him to move.
Nychelle’s handbag was on the floor, where it had fallen earlier, and he fished her phone out, glad to find she didn’t have a lock code on it. He looked up her cousin’s number, transferred it to his own phone, planning to call her once Nychelle had left. It was doubtful Nychelle would thank him for interfering, but there was no way he could watch her leave without knowing someone else would be checking on her.
He couldn’t do it himself without falling apart.
When Aliya had said she would call Nychelle, and then, unable to contact her, that she’d be catching the first flight out of Atlanta, David had closed his eyes, fighting tears of thankfulness. Nychelle deserved to be taken care of right now, and he knew her parents wouldn’t do it. They’d probably lecture her instead of nurturing her, and that was the last thing she needed.
Although he’d wanted to lecture her too—ask her why, with her medical problems, she’d taken a chance on getting pregnant. Didn’t she know the heartbreak she was courting? Realize how devastating the loss of her child would be?
No. No. No.
He wouldn’t think that—even as he feared it might happen. The baby would be fine. It had to be. She couldn’t—wouldn’t—go through the agony he’d experienced.
Gritting his teeth, he quickened his pace, even though his legs and lungs burned. Even as he prayed everything would work out for her, his anxiety built, growing to fill every nook and cranny of his soul.
“Stop it,” he panted aloud. “Stop it!”
She would be all right. She had to be. The bright, beautiful light that shone in her eyes shouldn’t be dimmed by that kind of pain. He couldn’t bear to see that happen. Needed to force himself to believe everything would work out.
It was too hot to be running for this long. He knew he should turn back toward his car but he pressed on, the pain of overexertion a physical manifestation of his inner agony, tears mixing with the sweat running down his cheeks.
And when finally he collapsed on the sand, dragging air into his tortured lungs, there was only one thought left in his mind.
Despite everything, he wished he’d told her he loved her.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
NYCHELLE CHECKED THE blood pressure apparatus and, after jotting down the levels, smiled at her patient. “Everything looks good. You’re really doing well, Mr. Comstock.”
“Please—how many times do I have to ask you to call me Doug?” But he was smiling even as he groused.
“Doug,” she amended, returning his smile. “You’ve lost eighteen pounds in two months, which is amazing—but most important, your blood pressure is down.”
“Even better is the way I feel.” He was grinning now, obviously pleased with himself. “I’ve been sleeping like a baby, and I’m determined to drop the rest of the weight as soon as possible. I’ve been exercising like a fiend.”
“Just make sure you stick with the plan we worked out, okay? You want to make sure your nutritional needs are being met, and you don’t want to risk an injury, which could set you back.” Nychelle checked his chart again. “I see you have a follow-up appointment in a few weeks with Dr. Napoli, and that she diagnosed a herniated disc but deferred any treatment other than mild painkillers. Are you still having the leg pain?”
“It’s nowhere as bad.” Doug stretched out his legs and flexed his feet. “Dr. Warmington called that one, though, didn’t he? Both the diagnosis and Dr. Napoli not being willing to do much until I got my weight under control. Hey, where is the doc anyway?”
At the mention of David, Nychelle busied herself adding another note to the chart. “Usually I handle the follow-up appointments, but Dr. Warmington will be happy to see you if you particularly want his input.”
“No, no—that’s okay. I don’t necessarily need to see him. I was just wondering if he was around.”
Both disappointment and relief washed through her, and she kept her eyes on the tablet a moment longer than necessary, hoping Doug wouldn’t see any of what she was feeling in her expression.
“Well, let’s get going on these blood tests, so we can keep track of how your body is responding to the new regime.”
Steering him away from talking about David worked for a while, but after they were finished, and Doug was getting ready to leave, he said, “I honestly think you and Dr. Warmington saved my life.” He fussed with his collar, making it lie flat, while he spoke. “The two of you make a great team. If this place ever closes you should set up your own clinic somewhere. Believe me—just as I’ve been telling everyone I know in this neck of the woods to come to Lauderlakes, I’d be sending patients your way if you did.”
“That’s very kind of you,” she said, and resolutely held her smile in place until she’d left him in the reception area to head back to her office. Then her happy expression fell away.
Doug had been her first patient of the day, and she was already wanting to go home. It had been a long couple of months, and just hearing David’s name had the power to send a jolt of emotion through her. It was exhausting—especially considering how many times each week she either heard people talking about him or actually saw him. Hearing Doug praise the way they worked together made her remember David’s hope to go back to South Carolina and open a practice. She’d actually imagined going with him, being an integral part of making his plan a reality.
That was her own pipe dream.
As she lowered herself into the chair behind her desk she sighed, wishing she’d had the courage to do what Aliya had suggested: talk to David about what had happened.
She’d meant to—she really had—but the first time she’d seen him at work after that fateful Saturday he’d given her a cool nod, his expression closed, unreadable. Frozen by that icy stare, she had felt her resolve shrivel up and die.
There was no way she could have braved a conversation with him under those conditions. And, althou
gh his attitude toward her didn’t seem quite as bad anymore, there was still no evidence that beneath his distantly professional demeanor the David she’d fallen for still existed. Not even a hint that her behavior hadn’t destroyed everything between them.
It still hurt terribly and, despite telling herself she needed to get over him, Nychelle’s heart wasn’t ready to listen to her head. Probably because her head wasn’t actually fully on board with that concept yet either. Knowing she needed to move on wasn’t the same as accepting it was time to do it.
Yet she’d promised herself she’d do the very best she could for her baby, no matter how she was feeling. Give him or her the very best chance. She needed to maintain a healthy emotional as well as physical balance, and doing so meant dealing with the reality of losing David.
It wasn’t enough to cut back on her activities, like excusing herself from the free clinic planning committee. Although that, of course, had had the added benefit of eliminating one place where she’d see David while also allowing her the extra rest her body was demanding.
Who knew falling asleep could be so easy? It was as if when the baby decided it needed a nap, it involved Nychelle going to sleep too. Not an easy thing to deal with during her busy work days. Not to mention that many of her dreams, which were particularly vivid and included David, caused her to wake up either crying or sexually frustrated. Sometimes both. And her emotional mood swings were draining. Elation over the baby morphed seamlessly into desolation over David, leaving her almost shell-shocked at times.
Leaning back in her chair, she yawned as another wave of exhaustion washed through her. Rubbing her eyes, she thought maybe it was time to take another piece of Aliya’s advice.
“You need some time off. Breathing room to get everything into perspective,” Aliya had said. She’d insisted on video calling, since she wanted to see for herself how Nychelle was, and had always had the ability just to look at her cousin and know. “I’m sure you have some vacation time left.”
She did. And now, as she reluctantly got up to go and greet her next patient, she made the decision to take a few days, maybe even a long weekend, to rest and get her head straight.
Clearing it with Human Resources wasn’t as easy as she’d hoped, but she was able to take the following Friday as a personal day, plus the next Monday and Tuesday as vacation.
When she left the office on Thursday she was feeling lighter than she had in ages, determined to use her days off to concentrate on the baby. Nothing else. She already had plans on how she wanted to rearrange the house. It was time to put them into effect.
By the Monday afternoon of her vacation she was feeling both rested and accomplished. The hall cupboard, which was to become a small library, was cleaned out and ready for the organizer she’d ordered to be installed. Now she turned her attention to culling her books, which took up almost a full wall in the smallest of her three bedrooms—the room now used as an office, but soon to be the nursery. She assembled packing boxes for the books she planned to donate, and got down to it.
She’d just taped the last box closed when the doorbell rang.
“About time,” she muttered, getting up off the floor. As the chimes pealed again, she called, “I’m coming.” Adding, under her breath, “Impatient, much?”
She opened the door, expecting the shelving delivery man. Instead her heart leaped as she gazed up at the man standing outside.
“David.”
His name was torn from a throat already closing in shock, coming out high and surprised. He didn’t reply, or greet her, just stood there, his lips tight, his posture ramrod-straight. He looked leaner than usual, his face almost hawkish in its severity, and his hair was disheveled, as though he’d been running his fingers through it. When his gaze raked her from head to feet and back up again Nychelle’s skin heated, tingled with awareness, and her heart seemed set to leap clear out of her chest, it was thumping so hard.
“Are you all right?”
It wasn’t so much a question as a demand, shot at her like a bullet, making her jump.
“What? Yes.” The words stuttered and stumbled from her lips.
“And the...” His gaze dipped again, only as far as her belly this time, and his jaw clenched an instant before he continued, “And the baby?”
“Fine,” she replied softly, her heart aching. “We’re both fine.”
David exhaled, the breath leaving him in a whoosh, and he visibly sagged, reaching out to hold on to the doorjamb as though in need of its support.
“Thank God,” he muttered, rubbing the back of his neck. “Thank God.”
Stepping back, she asked, “Do you want to come in?”
He came through into the foyer, and instead of going into the living room stepped close and pulled her tight to his chest. As he buried his face in her hair Nychelle realized he was trembling, and instinctively wrapped her arms around his waist. Melting against him, inhaling his beloved scent, she allowed herself this moment, even though she didn’t think the joy coursing through her veins would last.
“I was so worried about you.”
It was a whisper against her temple. “Why?” she asked, just as softly.
“You weren’t at work on Friday, and then again today. I thought...”
His voice faded and for an instant more she savored the sensation of being held so tenderly. Then she gently disengaged herself from his arms and stepped back.
David didn’t try to stop her, just leaned against the wall and watched as she backed up far enough to perch on the arm of a chair. The door had swung shut, and in the quiet of the house they faced each other. She took a deep breath, trying to steady her heart, to be realistic, before she spoke.
“You thought I’d lost the baby?”
He nodded—just a single, staccato dip of his head, and she sighed.
“I just took a few days off. There was no need for you to worry. Besides, you could have just called or texted me before you got so upset.”
The sound he made was indecipherable: a snort of what might have been interpreted as laughter, except there was no sign of amusement on his face. “You make it sound so simple.”
“It is simple,” she said, sad to think of having once more brought pain into his life.
Her heart ached to think of him suffering a moment more, even when she knew alleviating that hurt definitely meant them going their separate ways.
Lifting her chin, she looked straight into his eyes. “You need to stop torturing yourself because of my situation. You’ve dealt with enough without worrying about me. Just know that no matter what happens I’ll be fine.”
“And you’re so rational,” he said, as though she hadn’t spoken, or as if he was offering commentary on a conversation that he wasn’t really a part of. “Unfortunately there’s no rationality left in me when it comes to you.”
“David—”
Whatever she was planning to say was forestalled by his upheld hand.
“I need to explain.”
He gave her a smile so sweet her heart melted.
“When I lost Natalie and my marriage fell apart, it made me question everything. What kind of doctor was I that I couldn’t tell something was wrong? What kind of husband that my wife blamed me for her unhappiness both before and after we lost our baby? Had it been my fault Natalie was born too soon? It changed me in a fundamental way—made me fearful. Just the thought of going through something like that again made me lose all hope of having a family, of loving anyone again. Then I met you.”
Nychelle could only stare at him, wondering if this were some kind of dream. David pushed away from the wall and paced closer, stopping about an arm’s length away.
“I didn’t want to get involved with you—fought it every step of the way. But you got under my skin and into my heart. It frightened me, made me want to run. And then...”
He
faltered, and she saw him swallow before he went on.
“I hope you won’t hate me for this, but when you told me about your medical problem I was elated. I saw it as a sign that we were meant to be together. We would grow our family through adoption, and I wouldn’t have to worry about losing another child prematurely. Wouldn’t have to risk my heart that way again. When you told me about the IUI I didn’t know how to handle it. It didn’t matter that it wasn’t my child. It was yours, and I knew I would love your baby as if he or she were my own. I froze—was terrified.”
Even as he said the words she could see his fear reflected in his eyes, in the tightness of his face, and her heart ached anew.
“It’s okay,” she whispered, wanting to put her arms around him again, comfort him, but knowing she shouldn’t. If she did, she wouldn’t want to let go. “I understand. I never meant to hurt you. I would have never done it on purpose.”
The look he gave her was one of tenderness, and the softening of his face was so dramatic her heart leaped.
“Don’t you think I know that?” He took another step closer, reached out to sweep a finger over her cheek. “You’re the kindest, most amazing woman I’ve ever met. I know the last thing you’d want to do is hurt anyone. It’s one of the things I love most about you.”
He loves me?
He’d intimated it, but hearing it said so bluntly made her tremble, had tears welling in her eyes. Yet the barrier of his past still loomed between them, and although she’d love to ignore it, and pretend happily-ever-after was assured if they loved each other, she had to find the courage to face it head-on.
“David, you know there are no guarantees with this pregnancy.” She searched his gaze, trying to gauge his reaction to her statement. “Look at how upset you were, thinking I might have lost the baby. And I still have such a long way to go. You don’t need that kind of stress in your life and, believe me, I’ll understand if you don’t want to sign up for it.”