One Night That Changed Everything

by Tina Beckett

  But something was bothering her. He could see it in her face.

  “Are you afraid I might interfere with the way you’ll raise this child?”

  She gave a soft laugh that sounded anything but happy. “Nope.”

  “What if it’s mine?”

  “What if it is?”

  The words came out sounding like a challenge rather than an honest question—a kind of “so what are you going to do about it?” message.

  He decided to tread softly. “What would you like me to do?”

  “Nothing.”

  If he was closer, he’d reach out and take her hand. Touch her knee. Do something other than lean across a damn coffee table and try to get her to look at him—to really meet his eyes. “Do you want a marriage proposal?”

  Her “No!” came at the exact same time his mind shouted, What the hell are you doing?

  The horror in her voice, though, was a thousand times louder than his own. Because while he’d had this same inner tussle several times over the past couple of weeks, his heart had given a weird kind of sigh at his words. Like it might actually like the idea.

  Well, she didn’t. That much was obvious.

  Hannah’s words came tumbling out a second later, and she leaped to her feet. “Yes, I brought in the hat. And I want to make more of them, if that’s okay with you. If it’s not, I’ll give them to the girls in the chemo room and let them hand them out as they see fit.”

  He got up as well and rounded the table until he stood in front of her. “Hey, I’m not going to stop you. If it makes you happy, by all means you should continue.”

  “Thank you.”

  He couldn’t keep his eyes from trailing over her, acknowledging to himself that he was glad to finally see her up close, rather than just passing her in the hall for a few brief seconds. Despite the awkwardness currently between them, he missed having her barge in with a cup of coffee in the mornings. Missed the questions about whether or not he’d eaten lunch…or dinner. Missed her concern when a patient took a turn for the worse. But most of all he missed the easy camaraderie they used to have. It seemed like ages since they’d sat down and smiled and laughed like a couple of.

  Friends.

  Was that what he’d thought of her as?

  Yes. Someone who knew who he was and who was perfectly okay with his shortcomings, with the energy he put into his job.

  He wanted to tell her, but his throat felt paralyzed, unable to utter anything but meaningless questions.

  “How many patients do we have left today?” Like that one. Meaningless. Not at all what he wanted to say.

  She glanced at her watch. “I think two, why?”

  Why? Because he wanted to see her. Spend time with her. And not just inside the bedroom—although he knew that was part of it. A big part. But he also wanted to hear about how her pregnancy was going and to know how she felt about it. Wanted her to want him to be a part of it.

  But most of all he wanted to know where he fit into the scheme of things.

  Suddenly he knew just the way to ask.

  “After you have the baby, are you planning to come back to the clinic?”

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  “IDON’T know.”

  Hannah wasn’t sure exactly how it had happened, but after the last patient left she found herself in Greg’s car, the heater running as they discussed her work status at a nearby park. It was too chilly to get out and walk, and neither one of them had suggested going to get something to eat.

  The thought of leaving the clinic caused something cold and hard to lodge in her throat, but she had no idea how she’d feel about working for Greg if the baby turned out to be his.

  “What if I told you I don’t want you to leave?”

  A spark of joy leaped within her, only to fizzle out again. Was this the same type of offer as the “proposal” he’d mentioned earlier? Born of a sense of responsibility? He didn’t want her as his wife so how did she know he still wanted her at the clinic?

  “Is this because you somehow feel responsible for knocking me up? Because if it is—”

  “Please don’t use that term.”

  She blinked. Somehow she’d assumed that was all this was to him. A mistake. One that never should have happened. Hadn’t he said as much?

  No, actually, he hadn’t. But surely he’d thought it. She had. “Sorry.”

  “And no, this isn’t about feeling responsible, although I do, to some extent. But you’re good for the clinic. Good for our patients.”

  Right. The cynical part of her mind gave her heart a knowing wink. Hadn’t it told her that all along?

  Before she could open her mouth to respond, he shook his head. “No, that’s a lie. You are good for the clinic, but you’re also good for me. You drag me back to earth when I’ve gotten my head too far up my…” He cleared his throat. “Too far in the clouds.”

  She couldn’t stop her laugh. “I think I liked your first attempt better.”

  He smiled back at her. “See? You’re also good for my ego.”

  “You mean by chopping it back down to a manageable size?” She relaxed in her seat, swiveling her knees toward him so she could look at him.

  “Exactly.” His face turned serious as he studied her. “I’ve missed this.”

  “So have I.”

  They looked at each other for a few more seconds, before Hannah glanced away. “If this baby does turn out to be yours, don’t you think things could become strained?”

  “Only if we let them.”

  Her brows went up. “Seriously? Look at us now, at the clinic. You can barely stand to talk to me.”

  “It’s hard, I admit. But we could work through it.”

  Pain lodged in her chest and branched out, like crystals forming in a jar of sugar water. He’d just admitted to avoiding her. Was that why his hours at the hospital had suddenly increased? She’d gone from being a collaborator on cases to handling some of them on her own, just going to him for a quick consult when she was unsure of something. Was that how she wanted to continue? It gave her a lot more freedom to make decisions, but she liked the give and take as they’d brainstormed through problems. Instead, she felt like she’d been set adrift.

  It was a lonely feeling. Maybe that’s why she suddenly looked to knitting as a type of therapy. She’d even finished a brown argyle beanie hat, the pattern for which she’d found in a magazine. They didn’t have any male patients at the moment, yet her fingers had found their way to that page time and time again, carefully selecting the shades and the layout—matching the color of Greg’s hair. The finished product had come out just as she’d imagined.

  You’ll stay warmer than I will, as I don’t have a special hat. The words he’d said to Annie when he’d given her Martha’s gift ran through her mind. Something about them had grabbed hold of her throat and squeezed tight, which was ridiculous. He’d just been making idle conversation.

  So why had the words stuck with her? It’s not like she’d ever have the courage to give it to him.

  “Are you sure you wouldn’t rather just get a new PA?” The question sounded as shaky as her legs had become.

  His brows came together. “Would I be sitting here in the damn car, asking you to stay, if I did?”

  Why the sudden flare of anger? Maybe the thought of her leaving really did bother him.

  “What would you do while I was on maternity leave?”

  He took a minute to think about that. “I could cut back on my patient load until you got back.”

  “What? You always say that, but know you’d never be able to.”

  “I already have, remember? It’s why you’re able to leave here by six o’clock every night, rather than eight.”

  She pounced on those words. “Ha! I know for a fact you sneak patients in after everyone’s gone home.” Several mornings she’d come in to find the paper on the exam tables rumpled from someone’s body and had had to strip them before beginning a new day. She was pretty sure Greg wasn�
�t snoozing on them at night. Not when he had that long couch in his office. And that comfy bed in his home.

  Something she’d better avoid thinking about.

  “You do? How?”

  She tapped her forehead. “I’m psychic.”

  “Well, I wouldn’t have a choice when you’re gone. I’d have to cut back. I can’t be at the hospital and the clinic at the same time.”

  He was right, he couldn’t be two places at once. Which was why the thought of being married to someone like him was beyond absurd.

  “That’s true. You can’t be.” She heard the wistfulness in her voice and cringed inwardly. But maybe Greg hadn’t noticed. He probably had too much on his mind to notice the subtle shift in pitch…the note of sorrow she’d unintentionally injected.

  His throat moved, then his hand came out to squeeze hers. “I’m trying to do better, Hannah.”

  That was the problem. No matter how much he might want to change, he wouldn’t. Not really. Not until he could temper whatever drove him to work so hard and so long. Only Greg knew if the compulsion was out of control or if he really could back away from it. Hannah loved the patients she treated, but she also knew there was a limit to how much she could do before her body and mind rebelled.

  Greg’s never seemed to, although she had no idea how he could stay focused for as long as he did.

  But, like he’d said, he didn’t have anyone else to worry about. And that’s the way he liked it.

  “It’s not a matter of doing better. It’s a matter of taking care of yourself, so that you can take care of others. You don’t eat right. You probably don’t sleep well. When I was at your house, your refrigerator was practically empty.”

  Instead of taking offense, he laughed. “Thanks.”

  Huh?

  “For what?”

  “For fussing at me. You haven’t done that in a while.” He linked his fingers through hers. “Like I said, I’ve missed it.”

  Things between them had been strained lately. And she hadn’t been in his office in a while. Was it possible he’d liked what they’d had before?

  She squeezed his hand back. “So have I.”

  “So you’ll at least think about staying once the baby is born?”

  “Yes. I’ll think about it.”

  “I appreciate it.” He let out a huge breath. “I can’t promise I’ll be able to change overnight, but I’ll at least try.”

  Maybe she’d been wrong. Maybe he really would try to make time for things outside work. A ball of hope formed in her chest.

  “Promise?”

  “I do.”

  * * *

  The doctor stared at the ultrasound monitor, a frown of concentration on her face.

  Hannah’s anxiety level had been going up in steady increments for the past ten minutes. This was taking a lot longer than she’d expected. At eight weeks Dr. Preston should be able to find the baby and see its tiny heart pumping, even if she couldn’t find it on the Doppler yet. “Is everything okay?”

  “Just give me another minute here.”

  The same answer the doctor had given her the last time she’d asked. What if the baby was dead?

  Her own heart stalled at the thought.

  Greg had offered to come with her, but their patient load was heavy today and she hadn’t felt right about dragging him away. Especially as he had been better about eating. They’d even started meeting in his office for coffee again in the mornings, like they used to.

  And most days Greg had already poured and doctored hers up with creamer and sugar before she even got to the office, which was different from the way it had been before. Stella would just nod toward the door and send her on her way.

  And now she was alone in a room, possibly about to hear the worst news of her life.

  “Hannah, there’re two of them.”

  “Two what?” Heads? Torsos? Babies…?

  “You’re going to have twins. Sorry for taking so long. I wanted to be sure before I said anything.” She turned the monitor toward Hannah.

  “Twins?” She’d known this was a possibility. Barb had even warned her ahead of time, but to actually hear the word was…

  Terrifying.

  Two babies. How could that be?

  “You’re positive.”

  “I am.” She pointed out the babies, one of which appeared to be superimposed over the other. “The angle made it hard to see. I wanted to make sure they weren’t fused.”

  “Oh, God. They’re not, are they?” Conjoined twins would send her soul plummeting back to earth.

  “No. There are two separate individuals in there. Oh, and they’re fraternal, as there are two placentas.”

  “It’s just so…I’ll have to…”

  To what? Tell Greg? Oh, no. Her fear grew even more. What was she going to tell him? He’d freaked out over one baby, what would he do with the news that he might have fathered two?

  Maybe he hadn’t.

  “Any chance of knowing if these are the result of the insemination?”

  Dr. Preston squeezed her shoulder. “No, sorry. There’s no way to tell for sure until we do a D.N.A. test, and you said you wanted to wait on that, right?”

  “Yes.” She had. And Greg’s quiet words came back to her, affirming it was the right decision. He hadn’t wanted her to risk losing the baby just to put his mind at ease.

  But now that there were two? Would he still feel the same way?

  She gulped as another thought hit her. “You’re positive there aren’t any more in there, right?”

  The doctor laughed. “Yes. I’m sure. I almost missed the second one as it was.”

  Maybe it would have been better if the second baby had remained hidden a little while longer. She and Greg were just getting back on solid footing. But withholding this kind of information wouldn’t do anyone any good. And if he’d been able to come to her appointment, like he’d wanted to, he would already know.

  Yes, she had to tell him.

  But when?

  Um, yeah. Like he wouldn’t ask how the appointment had gone the second she got back to the office. Nothing to do but suck it up and tell the truth.

  She got back during the lunch lull, which was both fortunate and unfortunate as it didn’t give her much of a chance to prepare. Nonetheless, there was no time like the present. Armed with two fresh cups of coffee, she made her way to Greg’s office, mumbling the words she wanted to say under her breath. She slid one mug in the crook of her elbow and knocked, heard his “Come in” and took a deep, deep breath before taking that final step.

  If she’d been hoping he was immersed in paperwork and would give her a few more minutes, she was mistaken. He was sitting behind his desk, elbows propped on the flat, empty surface, staring off into space.

  Brooding over his lot in life?

  Lord, she hoped not, because it was about to get a whole lot worse.

  She held out a cup. “I made a fresh pot.”

  Nodding an acknowledgment, he accepted it and took a fairly big sip. Bracing himself. Great. Brooding and bracing.

  He set the cup on the desk. “How is he?”

  “He?”

  “The baby, sorry. Just using the generic term…unless you already know what it is?”

  “I don’t know the sex yet, no.” She licked suddenly dry lips. “But I did learn something pretty significant.”

  A frown appeared. “Did a problem show up on the sonogram?”

  The worried note in his voice made her rush ahead. “Oh, no. There’s nothing wrong with…them.”

  He blinked. Stared. His Adam’s apple took at least one dive, possibly two, before he said in a low controlled voice, “Them?”

  “Yes.”

  “Them, as in more than one fetus?”

  “Yes.”

  He leaned back in his chair, the springs protesting the sudden change. Then, as if he needed to distance himself even farther from the news, he swiveled half a turn to the left until he faced the wall. Planting his el
bows on his knees, he closed his eyes and pressed his fingertips into his temples. His face was paler than she’d ever seen it. Hannah wondered for a moment if he was going to be physically sick.

  “Greg? Are you okay?”

  One hand left his temple to wave a warning, which she took to mean he needed another minute or two.

  Oh, Lordy. She was beginning to feel a little nauseated herself, nerves causing her stomach to froth and twist.

  He’d known this might be a possibility, so why was he acting as if it was a death sentence?

  Then, in case he might be wondering, or might be trying to get up the nerve to ask, she forced herself to say, “I’m not going to ask about a reduction.”

  “Of course not.”

  He still hadn’t moved. Hannah couldn’t tell whether the words were meant as an affirmation or an indictment. Or maybe he was simply resigning himself to his fate.

  She tried to explain. “I can’t, Greg. Twins are easily managed, and if something should happen to one of them, I…I…” Even the thought brought a quick slice of pain.

  He turned back toward her. “I wasn’t asking you to.”

  She hesitated, trying to feel him out. “I know this must come as a shock.”

  “You have no idea.”

  He picked up a pencil and toyed with it as she searched for something else to say. Something that might make him feel at least a little better.

  “They might not be yours, you know.”

  He set the pencil down with a click. “I’m going to assume they are, until I know otherwise.”

  He was? Why? He was obviously not overjoyed with the news. It would be so much easier to grab the lifeline she’d handed him and pull himself to shore—far from the likes of her and the babies. So why wasn’t he?

  Because that wasn’t the way Greg did things. Not in his line of work. He evaluated the situation, identified the worst-case scenario and then fought to improve the odds. But this time there was no way to change course. What was done was done. They couldn’t go back and undo it.

  She almost laughed. Although Greg had certainly given it a shot by banishing the old desk and getting a light pine mission-style thing that clashed with all the other ornate mahogany pieces. If his decorator could see it, she’d cringe. She had to admit, though, it was a relief not to have to face him over that other desk or something that was almost like it.