One Night That Changed Everything

by Tina Beckett

  He helped her sit up and handed her the prescription.

  “Thank you. Your patients are lucky,” she said.

  He smiled. Luck had nothing to do with it. If she wanted to thank anyone, she should thank his sister. Without her, he wouldn’t be where he was today. He’d be on a commercial fishing boat, freezing his ass off and hating life. Instead, he was doing a job he loved—one that gave him immense satisfaction.

  For that reason and a myriad of others, Greg had fashioned his practice differently than most oncologists. He hired people whose lives had been touched by cancer. Survivors. He found it was the best way to keep his head clear of distractions and fixed on the task at hand. And helped him remember his sister.

  And it had worked. At least until Hannah had come along. Her murmurs of concern had worn him down little by little, until he’d thrown himself on the rocks, just as sailors of old had when confronted with the sirens’ song.

  He went into the hallway to wait for his patient to get dressed, knowing that as inwardly battered and bruised as he might be right now, he was eventually going to have to walk into that waiting room and face down temptation all over again.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  “CONGRATULATIONS, Hannah, you’re pregnant.”

  The fertility doctor’s voice confirmed what her own home pregnancy test had indicated. She was carrying someone’s baby.

  But whose?

  Be happy, Hannah. This is what you wanted.

  It was. But not like this. Where she’d anticipated the ability to raise her child as she saw fit, sharing her newfound zest for life, dread had oozed in, infecting her happiness. The fact that she couldn’t wholeheartedly celebrate this moment made her angry. Angry at Greg, but even more angry at herself.

  Why was he so persistent?

  I want to know if this baby is mine, one way or the other. I don’t care how long it takes to find out.

  His parting words last Saturday echoed through her head. He’d asked her to wait at the clinic until he’d finished examining Claire, but when he’d finally emerged, keys in hand, he hadn’t mentioned the muffins, confirming her suspicions that it had merely been a way to get her to stay. Instead, he’d made that statement before holding the door open and watching her walk toward her car. Once she had been safely inside, engine on, heat cranked up, he’d turned away to lock the clinic door.

  And that had been it.

  They’d passed each other in the hallway this week, but neither had said much to the other. The clinic was busy, although, true to Greg’s word, the overall hours remained shorter. Hannah had her suspicions about that, too, as he stayed behind every night. Notes added to certain patients’ files upped those suspicions. He was seeing more patients after hours.

  That brought her back to her original question. Why was he so insistent on knowing whose child this was, when he wouldn’t have time to spend with it? There was no way she wanted to introduce a two-year-old to a man and tell him or her, “This is your father,” only to have Greg continue on with his life as he’d always done. That was not the message she wanted to send to her child: you’re not important enough for Daddy to spend time with.

  God. What a disaster.

  “Hannah, did you hear me?” The fertility doctor touched her shoulder, making her jump.

  She glanced up, seeing the concern on the woman’s face. “Sorry. That’s wonderful news.”

  “Then why don’t you sound ecstatic?”

  “It’s complicated.” As soon as the words came out of her mouth, she snorted in disgust. That seemed to be her new favorite phrase. “Let me ask you something. Is it possible to do D.N.A. testing before the baby’s birth?”

  Dr. Chaquir leaned against the cabinet behind her. “Is there something I should know? A genetic problem in your family?”

  Another thing Hannah had never thought of when she’d had sex with her boss. Was he carrying some kind of defect? Was that why he was so fired up about knowing one way or the other? Surely he’d have said something before now.

  No. Why would he? If the child wasn’t his, he had no reason to tell her anything.

  Her hand went to her stomach as if she could protect the tiny fetus from some kind of horrible problem. Maybe she did need to find out.

  She sighed. “I…um, did something stupid.”

  The doctor frowned. “How stupid?”

  “Stupid enough to not know if this baby is the result of donor sperm or someone else’s.”

  “I don’t see how. Unless you were with someone immediately afterward, I’m pretty sure the donor sperm reached the egg first.”

  “But the life cycle of washed sperm is shorter than…um, the other kind, right?”

  Dr. Chaquir nodded. “Six to twenty-four hours on average, compared with up to five days for fresh ejaculate. I’m taking it you were intimate not long after the I.U.I. was performed?”

  Hannah’s face heated. “Within that time frame you mentioned.”

  There was a pause. “I see.”

  Those two words told her all she needed to know. The doctor was not going to heave a dramatic sigh and say, “You lucky thing, it’s definitely not your boss’s baby.”

  “So, as far as prenatal D.N.A. testing goes, how risky is it?”

  “You’re going to want to talk with your OB/GYN about that.” She paused. “Are you sure you want to go through with this pregnancy, Hannah? It’s still pretty early.”

  Did she?

  Yes. This was her baby. The one she’d dreamed of as she’d sat in the recliner in the chemo room, having toxic substances pumped into her veins. The “happy place” she’d traveled to during some of the unpleasant side effects. This was something she’d wanted more than anything, and she might never get another chance.

  “Yes, I want to go through with it.” She forced a smile and stood. “Thank you, Doctor. If you could give me a referral for an obstetrician, I’d appreciate it.”

  On the drive back home, a sudden rush of joy—in the form of tears—dumped whatever dread she’d felt right out of her body. She pulled off the side of the road as moisture cascaded down her cheeks. The bad emotions might come back soon enough, but right now she could celebrate. She would celebrate.

  She was pregnant. Pregnant!

  No matter what came next, she would soon hold a new being in her arms and glory in the miracle of modern medicine that made it possible. Maybe some deity had seen how badly she wanted this and had sent Greg to her at just the right time. What did it matter?

  She scrubbed at her cheeks. Okay, so it did matter. A lot. But she could deal with that later, once the reality sank deep and she had to face Greg with the news. But for now it was Friday afternoon and she didn’t have to face anyone for the next two days. Not until Monday morning. By then she’d have come up with the perfect words to toss at Greg.

  * * *

  “Any news?”

  Greg had come up behind her silently, and she gave a muffled scream before whirling around to face him. “When did you get here?”

  “About an hour ago.”

  Her two-day search for a quick and easy answer had been fruitless. She’d come up with zilch. Maybe even less than zilch. Because she’d dreamed of herself—very pregnant—in a flowing wedding gown on Saturday night and when she reached the altar, the faceless groom had yanked a sign from beneath his tuxedo coat that read, “Is that my baby?”

  She’d awoken in a cold sweat, unsure if the accusing figure represented the sperm donor or Greg.

  She turned her attention back to the man in front of her, whose face was very real and who was asking much the same thing as the groom from her dream. Only she didn’t have a better answer now than she’d had then.

  “Yes. I found out on Friday.”

  “You’re pregnant.” He’d evidently seen the truth on her face.

  “Yes.”

  He leaned a shoulder against the wall as if needing the extra bit of support. “So what do we do now?”

  Hannah glanced to h
er left, hoping Stella wasn’t going to suddenly pop out of one of the exam rooms. “I have an appointment to see an obstetrician in a couple of weeks.”

  “Will you ask for testing?”

  “I’m going to ask about testing.” In her mind, asking for information was very different from asking to have it done. “I’m really not holding you responsible, Greg. It was a fluke, something neither of us expected to happen. Please, can’t you just leave it at that?”

  His jaw tightened. “You might not hold me responsible, but I do. I knew what the consequences could be, knew I had a condom in the wallet not five feet away from me. I went ahead without it.”

  As opposed to her, who hadn’t thought about anything but having him inside her as soon as possible. A condom had never even crossed her mind, maybe because in her head she had already been pregnant, which was ridiculous. If this was anyone’s fault, it was probably hers. “I was there, too. I didn’t exactly give you the opportunity to stop.”

  Something dark flickered through his eyes before it winked back out. “I could have handled the whole situation differently—never let it go as far as it did.”

  How? By shoving her away when she’d reached for him? That would have been the ultimate humiliation. Even worse than having to stand here now and hear him imply that had been one of the options.

  “Knowing the truth isn’t going to change anything. Not really. You live to work. I live…to live. Like it or not, cancer changed me. I don’t expect you to be able to understand that, but I want to share what I’ve been given with others. That includes my child. I want it to know my hopes and dreams. To teach it the same values I have. I want the baby to know how precious each and every second of life is.”

  He folded his arms across his chest and waited as a nurse made her way past them. “You don’t think I want those same things?”

  “Quite frankly, no.” She glanced pointedly in the direction the nurse had gone seconds earlier. “And I’d really like to keep the pregnancy to myself for the moment—I haven’t even told my parents yet—so can we please not have this discussion in the middle of the hallway?”

  Greg stared at her for a long minute. “Fine. So you tell me when and where, and I’ll be there.”

  So much for hoping he’d walk away and leave things on some vague, undefined terms. She needed time to think about how much involvement she was willing to let Greg have. Ultimately it was her decision, but she also needed it to be the right one. She didn’t want to have to explain to her child someday why she’d kept his biological father—if that turned out to be Greg—from being a part of his life. That didn’t seem right either.

  Maybe he was right about the D.N.A. testing. If he knew for sure the baby wasn’t his, he’d stop pressuring her. And, in all honesty, he’d probably be hugely relieved to boot.

  “How about you go with me to the obstetrician and hear what she has to say about the testing? I don’t promise I’ll have it done, if it’s risky to the baby, but I don’t want you to think I’m being disingenuous about anything either.”

  “Sounds reasonable. Let me know when the appointment is and I’ll shuffle my schedule around.”

  She blinked in surprise. He would? Greg had never once canceled a surgery or patient’s appointment since she’d worked at the clinic. Even when he was in the operating room or had an emergency with another patient, someone on the team kept the other scheduled appointments. Maybe he wasn’t quite as intractable as—

  Before she could finish the thought, Stella stuck her head through the door in the reception area. “The office furniture guys just called. They should be here with your new desk in around a half an hour. Will you be here to sign for it?”

  Dark color washed up Greg’s neck and infused his face. “Yes. I’ll be here.”

  Stella nodded. “Oh, and one more thing, they want to know what you want done with the old one…said you mentioned something about needing it out of here as soon as possible.” She paused. “Didn’t you just have your office redecorated this past summer?”

  “I can’t remember.” He pushed away from the wall and began stalking toward his office. “Let me know when they arrive.”

  “Will do.” Stella withdrew, leaving Hannah to stare at Greg’s retreating back, humiliation and hurt jockeying for first place in her head.

  That desk. The one where they’d made love.

  Was it really so easy to erase what had happened between them? It evidently was for Greg. One flick of his wrist and he made the desk—and everything it represented—vanish forever.

  CHAPTER NINE

  “CHANCES of miscarriage are one in a hundred.”

  The obstetrician continued explaining how chorionic villus testing worked and what to expect during the procedure, but Greg’s mind fastened on the risk factors. The phrase ran through his head time and time again.

  Hannah, dressed in a standard hospital gown, sat on the exam table and listened intently to the doctor. Her face was a blank slate, giving Greg no indication of what she was thinking. Her appointment had been the first one of the day, and if Dr. Preston was surprised to see him accompanying her new patient, she didn’t show it.

  Greg had stepped outside the room during the internal exam but had been called back in during the explanations. Everything with the pregnancy seemed to be normal. Hannah was six weeks along, but that time was calculated from her last period, not the date of conception, which had been two weeks after that date. But, still, how had four weeks passed from the fateful encounter in his office? Time had kind of become a vague BC/AD delineation of time in which BC stood for “before condom” and AD meant “after dumbass.”

  Hannah had been given a tentative July due date, which seemed both way too soon and an eternity away. His life would be turned upside down until he knew for sure whether or not he was the father.

  But at a one-in-a-hundred chance of losing the baby? Was his peace of mind really worth that much?

  He moved closer to the exam table and touched Hannah’s arm, interrupting the doctor’s litany. “Don’t do it.”

  Hannah blinked up at him. “I’m sorry?”

  Her question made him realize just how far they’d traveled away from the subject of D.N.A. testing. Greg had no idea what the current topic was, but he had to make his wishes clear. “I don’t want you to do the paternity testing.”

  The doctor glanced from one to the other. “Do you want me to give you a moment?”

  “Do you mind?” Hannah’s voice was soft, her eyes still on his.

  “Not at all. I’ll get started with my next patient.” The doctor squeezed Hannah’s shoulder, gave Greg an enigmatic look and slid through the door.

  “I thought you wanted the testing done,” Hannah said as soon as they were alone.

  “It’s too risky.”

  “But when I mentioned that earlier, you just brushed it aside.”

  Greg dragged a hand through his hair. She was right, he had. He didn’t know what had changed between then and now, but something had. Maybe having tangible evidence the pregnancy was real. “I think hearing the actual numbers made me rethink things. If they weren’t so high…”

  Where exactly was that line? If the doctor had said the chances of losing the pregnancy were one in a thousand, would he want her to have it done? One in a million?

  He wasn’t sure. But a hundred to one. That wasn’t a risk he was willing to put Hannah through. Not for the selfish reasons he had.

  “Maybe later on,” she said. “An amniocentesis could carry fewer risks.”

  “You’re not old enough to warrant testing for genetic defects.” He frowned. “Unless there’s something in your family.”

  “No. And the donor didn’t list any kind of problems.” She hesitated. “Is there anything in your family?”

  Was there? Greg had no idea. He’d long since given up on the idea of having kids, so he’d never bothered checking his family tree for inheritable conditions. Although he seemed to remember reading that myelo
id leukemia—his sister’s illness—could be caused by a defective chromosome in about thirty percent of cases. Hell, something he’d never even bothered to think about. Selfish bastard. All he’d worried about were the ramifications to his own life if he were the baby’s father. What about the ramifications to the child’s life?

  “My sister had myeloid leukemia. If I’m the father…” His voice trailed away. Hell, what if he’d passed on some kind of time bomb?

  “Is myeloid inherited?”

  “I think it can be.” He thought about it for a second. “I’ll see a geneticist and ask about testing.”

  Hannah’s face drained of color. “Oh, God. Even if there is a test, it could take weeks or longer to get the results.”

  He took her hand and squeezed. “I’m so sorry. If I could take it all back, I would.” He’d had strange, uneasy dreams about that night ever since. He’d wake up drenched in sweat, wanting her with a fervor that shook him. Worse was when he reached for her upon waking, only to find the other side of his bed empty. Cold.

  And now this.

  “It’s not your fault.” She gave him a shaky smile. “I’ve often wished that night had happened a whole lot earlier, or later. But I was taking hormones and they…well, they probably affected my thinking.”

  In other words, if she’d been in her right mind, she’d have never had sex with him. Fantastic. And that made him feel a whole lot better, because he had no excuse, other than having had the hots for his beautiful PA almost from the moment he’d laid eyes on her. Even as a patient, there’d been something special about her, something that drew him.

  Hiring her had been a mistake. He’d felt it at the time but had figured the attraction would fade. He’d felt a twinge of lust for a woman from time to time. It never lasted. And that attraction had certainly had never made him lose his head before.

  “Are you sure it wasn’t just my charismatic personality that did the trick?” He’d been abrupt with her when she’d brought him coffee that fateful day. He wasn’t sure making a joke was the right thing to do under these circumstances, but it was all he had.