Dr Zinetti's Snowkissed Bride / The Christmas Baby Bump

by Sarah Morgan / Lynne Marshall

  “Please don’t hate me, Phil. You can’t understand…”

  He shook his head and paced the floor. “Yes, losing your baby was a tragedy. I can’t imagine how it must feel, but, Stephanie, you’re alive, not dead, and you’ve got to let it go. That was three years ago. It’s time to move on.”

  He was right, she knew he was right, but she was so damn stuck in her self-loathing rut…

  Amy came rushing through the door. “Maria’s water broke, and she’s having contractions!”

  Stephanie jumped to her feet, her legs having turned to rubber bands. Maria had gone into labor, as she’d been threatening for six weeks since Stephanie had first met her.

  Words, as dry as the desert, crawled out of her mouth. “Have you called the paramedics?”

  “She wants you, Doctor,” Amy said, eyes huge from adrenaline.

  She hadn’t signed on for this. It said so in her contract—no delivering babies.

  “Where is she?” Stephanie asked in a wobbling voice, following Amy to the procedure room.

  Phil remained at her side, supporting her elbow and walking briskly with her. “You know what to do, and I’ll be here, right here. We’ll get through this together.”

  His words of encouragement meant more than she could say.

  Stephanie rushed into the procedure room, where Amy had left Maria between contractions. Phil was right on her heels.

  “Maria, do you think you can make it to the hospital?” Stephanie said.

  “Feels like the kid’s head is between my knees!”

  Claire appeared. “I’m here if you need me.” Word had traveled fast through the clinic.

  Surrounded by her clinic family and Phil, Stephanie felt confidence spring back to life. She’d delivered more babies than she could count. She could do this. She went to the sink and splashed water on her face and washed her hands, then gowned up and gloved. “Let’s have a look,” she said.

  This was Maria’s third baby, the woman knew the drill.

  She’d check for effacement, dilatation and station. “One hundred percent, ten centimeters, plus three. I guess your baby doesn’t plan to wait for an ambulance,” Stephanie said, her heart kicking up a couple notches on the beat scale.

  Amy rushed around the room gathering everything they might possibly need.

  Stephanie glanced over her shoulder at Phil, who was looking a little pale, but was still there.

  He touched her arm and nodded. “You’ll do fine. Now I’m going to step out of your way, but holler if you need me.”

  As if on cue, Maria let out a guttural sound.

  Stephanie saw Maria’s abdomen tighten into a hard ball. Now was the time to click into the moment and do what she’d been trained for. All other thoughts left her mind. Half an hour later, she positioned herself at the birth canal before giving a terse command. “Push!”

  A tiny head with dark hair matted with vernix crowned.

  “Keep pushing!” She slowly guided the baby’s facedown head through the birth canal. “Okay, now stop pushing.” She made a quick check to make sure the umbilical cord wasn’t wrapped around the baby’s neck. It wasn’t. “Push. Push.”

  Soon the entire body flopped into her waiting hands, and the baby let out a wail.

  Stephanie held the newborn as if he was made of porcelain. The squirming bundle of perfection mewed and tried to open his eyes. A booster shot of adrenaline made her hands shake. What if I drop him? Her arms felt as if they carried the weight of the world.

  Phil appeared at her side, and put his gloved hands around the child for added support. His eyes met hers and she saw all the confidence she lacked right there. He believed in her. That look told her he knew she could do it. He’d never doubted her. He knew she could handle her own baby, too.

  She bit her bottom lip to stop herself crying. Hadn’t she done enough of that lately? “It’s a boy!” Emotionally wrung out, she held the baby close enough for Maria to see. “He’s gorgeous.”

  Maria grinned and nodded in agreement as Stephanie laid the newborn on her stomach.

  “May I?” Phil asked, snipping the umbilical scissors in the air.

  “Be my guest,” Maria said, cuddling her baby to her breast.

  Phil glanced at Stephanie. “I wanted to get a little practice in before our baby arrives,” he whispered into her ear, before severing the cord.

  His words meant more than anything in the world just then.

  After the placenta was delivered, and the ambulance arrived to transport Maria, Stephanie cleaned up and went back to her office. Phil was right at her side. His eyes were bright with the buzz from Maria’s delivery as he closed the door.

  “You were fantastic. You can handle anything you set your mind to,” he said.

  The high from the delivery had boosted her confidence, and Phil’s support meant everything to her. He stepped closer and touched her shoulder.

  “We’re going to have a baby. Steph. Look at me. In case you’re wondering, I want you and I want our kid.”

  She gave him a questioning glance, her heart thumping so hard she thought it might crack a rib.

  “I’m ready to make the leap,” he said. “And it’s all because of you, sweetheart.”

  If she’d ever doubted that he loved her, that doubt vanished. Even though he knew her tragic secret, he still loved her. He was the best man she’d ever met.

  “Nothing will sway me. Now that I’ve discovered you, I can’t let you go,” he said. “I’ve fallen crazy in love with you.” He took her into his arms. “I’m here to tell you I’m ready. I want you. You’re the woman I love. But there’s one thing that will hold us back, that is if you don’t love me, too.”

  Why hadn’t she told him? He’d opened his soul and she’d been wallowing in self-pity. He hadn’t cursed her and run off when he’d found out she’d dropped her baby. He’d forced her to open her heart with small steps and a dog named Sherwood. He’d made love to her as if she were a goddess. He’d forced his way inside her fortress and conquered her heart. The guy deserved to know how she felt.

  “I do. I love you, Phil. More than I can ever express.”

  A relieved grin stretched across his face and he covered her mouth with his, whispering over her lips, “It’s about time you admitted it.”

  After he’d kissed her thoroughly, leaving her breathless and weak-kneed, he held her at arm’s length.

  “You need to forgive yourself. Really forgive yourself.

  Your ex-husband let you down. He was a jerk. These horrible things happen in life, and somehow we have to dig deeper and keep going.

  “I love you and I promise to never let you down. And if I do, you have my permission to call me on it. I won’t run. I won’t hate you. I’ll love and respect you. I’ll always love you, Stephanie.”

  She crumpled into his embrace on another wave of tears, and he welcomed her with open arms. With the deepest feeling of connection to another human being she’d ever felt, she hugged him back.

  They belonged together, both broken and jagged along the edges but a perfect fit. Filled with hope, she knew without a doubt that his unconditional love would finally help her heal.

  “So what do we do now?” he said, against her ear.

  She pulled back and gazed into his sea-blue eyes. As he’d said everything she needed to hear, and she had admitted exactly how she felt, there really wasn’t much left to say or do. Except one silly thought popped into her mind. “Let’s go and buy that Christmas tree.”

  His full-out laugh was the second-best sound she’d heard all day, the first having been the newborn baby’s cry.

  On Christmas Eve, Stephanie had come down with a mild cold. Phil insisted she stay in bed, but she didn’t want to miss such a special holiday, her first Christmas with the man she loved.

  Their decorated tree blinked and twinkled in the corner of the family room. A few gifts, mostly for the dogs, were wrapped and tucked beneath. Christmas carols played quietly in the background.
The incredible aroma of roast beef filled the air as it cooked in the oven, along with Yorkshire pudding, making her mouth water.

  Carl and Roma arrived with hyperactive Robbie. What was it about Christmas that got kids so wound up?

  She grinned at the boy, and stooped to his level before he had a chance to tackle her. Her legs were still sore from Phil’s tricky maneuver at the beach the week before, and Robbie’s version of hugging was to throw his body against hers.

  “Pill,” Robbie said, quickly losing interest in Stephanie when he noticed his big brother.

  “Dude!” Phil hugged him, and Stephanie had to blink when he kissed his brother on the cheek. “Merry Christmas.”

  Robbie’s gaze darted everywhere. “Wow, did Santa come to your house already?” He saw the gifts and ran for the tree.

  Daisy and Sherwood intercepted him, hopping in circles and demanding their fair share of attention. Easily distracted, Robbie giggled and jumped around with them.

  Stephanie grinned, thinking the dogs were protecting their doggy cookies and leather chews but knowing they loved any and all attention they could get. She watched Robbie roll around on the floor with them, and soon felt a hand on her shoulder.

  It was Carl.

  “Thank you,” he said.

  She looked into the same blue eyes she’d woken up to that morning, and imagined how Phil would look thirty years down the road. She liked what she saw.

  “For what?” she said.

  “For making my son happy. For helping him finally grow up.”

  She shook her head and hugged Carl. “He’s done the same for me.”

  Christmas evening, one year later…

  Stephanie sat bundled in a blanket and snuggling with Phil on the couch. She stared at the Christmas tree in the dimmed living room. It really was the most beautiful tree she’d ever seen. The decorations reflected the colorful blinking lights across the family-room ceiling, and the effect was nothing short of magical.

  Their family and friends had come and gone and they were finally alone. She looked up at her husband, who bore a mischievous grin.

  “I’ve got an idea how to make an already perfect day even better,” he said. He dipped his head and kissed her neck, sending feathery tickles over her chest. She reached for him and kissed his jaw, enjoying the evening stubble and waning spice of his aftershave.

  “That sounds wonderful,” she whispered.

  He stood, held her hands, and pulled her to her feet.

  Baby gurgles and coos came through the nursery intercom. From their brand-new Santa-delivered dog beds, Daisy’s and Sherwood’s ears perked up.

  Stephanie smiled at Phil. “Shall we wait to see how long before she realizes she’s hungry?”

  They looked at each other briefly and said in unison, “Nah.”

  Phil led her down the hall and together they peeked in on the center of their universe—their four-month-old daughter, Emma.

  The contented baby lay on her back in her crib, reaching for the tiny stuffed animals dangling from the mobile over her bed. Her foot made contact with a teddy bear and she squealed with delight.

  Stephanie and Phil laughed quietly. They loved watching her, and wanted to steal a few more moments enjoying the show before she noticed them. But it was too late. The baby glanced at the doorway and squealed even louder when she saw them. She flapped her arms and legs as if she might fly to them.

  Stephanie rushed to her and lifted her into her arms, smothering her with kisses. Emma cooed and gurgled, and laughed. She’d reached a euphoric stage in her life, and everything seemed to make her happy.

  Phil wrapped his arms around both Stephanie and Emma and hugged them tight. “How’re my girls doing this Christmas night?”

  Stephanie pressed her cheek to Emma’s and glanced up at Phil as if she was posing for a picture. “Just fine, Daddy. We couldn’t be happier.”

  All the characters in this book have no existence outside the imagination of the author, and have no relation whatsoever to anyone bearing the same name or names. They are not even distantly inspired by any individual known or unknown to the author, and all the incidents are pure invention.

  All Rights Reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Enterprises II B.V./S.à.r.l. The text of this publication or any part thereof may not be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, storage in an information retrieval system, or otherwise, without the written permission of the publisher.

  This book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, resold, hired out or otherwise circulated without the prior consent of the publisher in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition including this condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.

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  First published in Great Britain 2010

  Harlequin Mills & Boon Limited,

  Eton House, 18-24 Paradise Road, Richmond, Surrey TW9 1SR

  © Sarah Morgan 2010

  © Janet Maarschalk 2010

  ISBN: 978-1-4089-1835-7