From Exes to Expecting

by Laurel Greer

  “I’m...shocked. Confused about what you’ll do with yourself. Not to mention feeling guilty for so often having compared you to your mother. Why didn’t you tell me how much pressure that put on you?”

  “I was scared,” she whispered. She could picture him sitting palm to forehead, elbow on the edge of his desk, as he often did when thinking.

  “I’m sorry, Lauren.” The rough regret in his voice scraped against her skin.

  “Don’t be sorry. For as much as I don’t want to be a doctor, I—I liked being close to Mom.”

  Slow breathing filled the speaker. “I’m feeling pretty thrown here, Cookie. Can you do something for me?”

  “Sure, Dad. Anything.”

  “Get some space, some time away by yourself—you need to think about what you’ll do next, and you’re too busy when you’re at home.”

  He wanted her to leave? Her stomach twisted. Before her morning sickness could take over, she cut their call short and dropped her forehead to the steering wheel. After a minute or so, her nausea settled. She started driving down streets she’d traveled thousands of times, didn’t really need to see to safely pilot the vehicle. The familiarity left her brain with way too much freedom to stew over her conversation with her father. Did he want her to get away from town? From Tavish? From their family?

  Gah.

  Maybe her dad was right. And Tavish, too, about her family not falling apart if she went away for a weekend. Her brain threatened to overflow; clearing it sounded like a brilliant plan.

  A few minutes later she knocked on Tavish’s apartment door.

  A moment passed before it swung open. And wow, that moment had been worth the wait. A pair of green-striped boxers hugged his hips, right below the V of hard muscle that pointed straight to a tempting, cotton-covered bulge. Most of him was on display. Delineated biceps and powerful thighs and a drowsy grin. “Hey, Pixie.”

  Her heart warmed at the endearment. “Hey, yourself, sleepyhead.”

  She walked into his embrace. He smelled like clean sheets and warm man. The anchor of his rock-hard arm muscles around her adrenaline-wearied body was everything she’d needed since she’d walked into Frank Martin’s office. Her mouth met his, kissed away the trace of chap on his lower lip. “Let’s go somewhere. Together.”

  His eyes opened wider, lost some of their just-wakened cloud. “Where?”

  “Yellowstone.” She tugged on one of the buttons of her blouse and threaded the fingers of her other hand into the crispy hair above the waist of his boxers. “But first, I’m taking you back to bed.”

  Hours later, body sated, she snuggled under the thin feather duvet. A clatter rang through the open bedroom door, followed by a soft curse from Tavish.

  “Whatcha doing?” she called.

  He came back into the room, holding a flat, brown-paper-wrapped package under his left arm. He looked ready to attack the wilderness in beige nylon cargo shorts, a threadbare Sutter Creek Canoe and Kayak Club T-shirt and a pair of hiking sandals. Her heart fluttered—part anxiety, part anticipation—at the possibilities.

  “Unwrap this.” His shoulders slumped a fraction and he ran a hand through his hair.

  She sat up with the sheet tucked under her armpits and took the gift, tearing off the paper.

  Framed with matting colors of sage and cream, his river drawing looked even more real than when she’d last seen it in the office. Choking on the tears clogging her throat, she whispered, “Your sketch...”

  “It’ll match your living room. If you want it in there, of course. No obligation.”

  “It’s perfect.”

  He brushed his fingers along her arm. “I was thinking of you when I drew it. It just seemed right to give it to you.”

  “It was a big place in our life.”

  “Yeah. Beginnings.” He sighed. “Endings. Uh, the tattoo on my side is all about you, too.”

  Oh. Oh. She’d wondered about the connection. God, if she was looking for proof of how deeply his feelings ran, she couldn’t get much more than him permanently inking the memory of their love on his skin. She kissed him softly. “Thank you.”

  After drawing her further in, turning the kiss long and hot and nerve-jarring, he said, “Let’s go find more big places.”

  “Right. Gear all packed?”

  “Let’s get gone.”

  She pressed a hand to her chest. Could she do this? Fully face her fears? Yes or no, she was going to try.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Tavish’s mouth watered as his feet crunched on the rock-strewed path. Nothing on the Grebe Lake trail could hold a candle to watching Lauren’s hamstrings tense and release. Every once in a while she’d turn to smile at him, her metallic-green, oversize sunglasses making her look like a June bug. And the activity had brought the color back into her cheeks. About time. When he’d driven across the Montana-Wyoming border, she’d gone sheet-white.

  Curiosity ate at him to find out what had happened when she’d spoken with Frank Martin and her dad, but she hadn’t wanted to talk about it when he’d prodded.

  He’d wait.

  And would watch her legs in the meantime.

  When they got to the lake’s edge, she shed her socks and shoes and immediately headed for the water. Knee-deep, she turned around and grinned. Her obvious delight filled his chest to bursting, making him feel like he’d won a Pulitzer. And when she lifted the bottom edge of her athletic tank to drag the sheen off her face, his tongue begged him to drop to his knees, to lick the exposed inches of her pale stomach. Was he crazy, or was there a little fullness around her waist that hadn’t been there a week ago?

  “You look hungry, Fitzgerald.” A smile played on her lips.

  “I am.”

  “Well, I’m not on the menu. Yet.” Her smile turned to a full-on grin. “Make me lunch. Your kid needs to be fed.”

  My kid. Wow. But he was getting used to the phrase. Damn attached to it, really.

  They settled in on a sandy, secluded stretch of lakefront and unpacked their hastily gathered picnic from his day pack.

  Lauren reclined against a log, shoes off and knees bent. Her tanned calves matched the golden-brown sand that caked her feet after her wade in the lake.

  A palm-size cluster of condensation-frosted grapes dangled between her forefinger and thumb. She sucked the juicy buds of fruit from the stem. Plump lips enveloped a grape and then, with a pop, disappeared, along with Tavish’s hold on his lust. He wanted her to suck his skin in that same methodical way.

  Not in the mood for exhibitionism, he reached for food instead. There was no guarantee they wouldn’t be interrupted by other hikers.

  She shot him a sly, sexy smile.

  Then sucked.

  Grape. Grape. Fingertip.

  Lust burned his skin and he swallowed. “You prepared to follow up on that smile, Dr. Dawson?”

  Her mouth gaped, playful mood vanishing from her face and posture. “I won’t be a practicing doctor for much longer. Weird.”

  Way to go, Fitzgerald. He’d been so careful not to mention work. “Weird in a good way?”

  “Yeah, I think so.”

  “We don’t have to talk about it.”

  “I’m ready.”

  He listened intently to her explanation of her resignation and talking to her dad. She’d done swift work, untangling herself from her job. And with no longer being attached to the clinic, would she change her mind about traveling with him when he worked? Something else to find out when the time was right.

  He shifted to sit next to her and ringed his arms around her shoulders. Dropping a kiss on her head, he said, “That can’t have been easy.”

  “It wasn’t.”

  “I have something to tell you, too. I haven’t signed off on anything, but that job at Montana State I called about? I’ve been offered an art
ist-in-residence position for January. I can’t start until then because of the few contracts I have for the fall, but I thought I’d give it a shot.”

  She gripped one of his knees and looked at him, solemn, doubtful. “You sure you want to do that?”

  “I’m sure I want you, Lauren. I’ll do my best.”

  “I don’t want you to make yourself miserable for me. Or the baby.”

  Tavish nuzzled her neck. An outdoor lake-and-flora smell, the one fabric softener manufacturers spent millions trying to reproduce but never came close to, clung to her skin. “I’ve been pretty miserable without you. And no way do I want to miss out on watching you growing our baby this winter.” He didn’t know when the urge to leave would kick in. Given he was his father’s son, it would hit him eventually. Because of that, he wasn’t going to promise forever. But he could promise his best. He’d always give his child—and the woman he’d created that child with—his best. Hopefully it would be good enough.

  He spread his fingers across her stomach. Incredible that the beginnings of a human dwelled safe inside her. “I love you, Lauren. And I figure it’s worth doing what I can to see if that love can survive. I want to be connected to you beyond parenting together. And we’re both closer to finding middle ground. You’re here with me today. Maybe you’d travel with me again before the baby’s born. Phuket has some nice resorts. We could stay on a few weeks after I’m done my assignment in the fall. Chill out on a pair of beach chairs—what do people call it, a babymoon?”

  “Tavish.” The ache in her voice pulled at any sense of hope he was attempting to generate. She shook her head. “Being willing to go on an overnight camping trip a few hours from home is a heck of a lot different than going to Thailand for a month. I just quit, for God’s sake. I won’t be able to take a vacation if I’m figuring out a new job.”

  He sighed. “You’ll get vacation time, Lauren, so be honest—it’s the home part that’s holding you back. And given the world didn’t fall down around your ears when we crossed into Yellowstone Park boundaries, you could probably safely get on a plane, too.”

  “Traveling halfway around the world is different from pitching a tent a couple of hours from home. This is too fast, too much pushing.” She emphasized the last few words, making them echo across the lake.

  He forced himself to suck in a calming breath. “We’ll take it slow, then.”

  Her eyes shuttered and she let out a slow breath through pursed lips. “We’ll take a pause, you mean. This is enough for me for now.”

  A pause? Fine. Or so he’d convince himself.

  * * *

  Lauren woke up to the twitter of early-morning birds and insects. She squinted at the tent walls, lit cobalt in the shadows of the trees around their campsite. That dim, just-after-dawn light. Tavish’s arm lay heavy across her rib cage, his breathing steady against her back.

  Why was she awake?

  A buzz sounded from inside her backpack. Ah, her phone was the culprit. Stupid social media alerts, going off at all hours even out in the wilderness.

  All hours. Hours from home. An anxious tingle crawled through her abdomen. The scent of vinyl started to unsettle her stomach and she reached for her water bottle just as another buzz interrupted the silence, from the pocket of Tavish’s hoodie this time.

  Coincidence? Her heart started pounding as she rooted around for her cell. As she closed her hand around it, it went off again. She reared up from the mattress and looked at the screen.

  “What’s wrong, sweetheart?” Tavish murmured, voice raspy.

  “Cadie’s calling.” Fear ripped through her as she answered. “Cadie? What’s the matter?”

  “I’m at th-the h-hospital in Bozeman...” Cadie stuttered, and not from bad phone reception. “Dad. A heart attack.”

  “No!” She fell back against Tavish, who swore under his breath and caught her in his embrace. Cadie’s words blurred together. Something about surgery and wanting Lauren home.

  “But I’m hours away!”

  “Dad will be in surgery for a while anyway. Just come as fast as you can.”

  Guilt squeezed Lauren until the phone fell out of her hand. She curled into a ball in Tavish’s arms. This is my fault. She’d left her family, and yet again something had gone wrong... She wasn’t home for Cadie or her dad when they needed her. Again.

  In a fog, she shook as Tavish picked up the phone and promised Cadie they’d be there as soon as they could.

  “I shouldn’t have come.”

  “Shh.”

  “They need me and I’m not there.” Tears pricked her eyes. “What if he was stressed out about me quitting?”

  “Hey.” He squeezed her tight, but the comforting support only made her feel worse for not being at home, hugging her sister. “You didn’t cause this in any way. Grab your backpack. I can have everything taken down in ten minutes.”

  Muscles weak, she dressed, stuffed her belongings into her pack and threw it in the vehicle. He yanked on yesterday night’s sweats and long-sleeved T-shirt, grabbed his own bag, and let down the food he’d strung up in a tree. He had the fire out and the tent stowed away before she’d even managed to deal with their sleeping bags.

  She tried to help further, but her fingers fumbled her tasks. Fear curdled her stomach, souring the back of her throat. She gave up and sat in the passenger seat, letting the tears come.

  By the time Tavish shut the hatch and climbed into the driver’s seat, her breath was coming in gasps and her diaphragm was starting to ache.

  “Pixie. You need to get your breathing under control.” He ran his thumb across one of her tear-slicked cheeks. His eyes were a stormy violet-gray. “In and out, Laur. You can do this.”

  Pretending it was yoga class, she followed his instructions and managed to slow her sobs to irregular hiccups. “Start the car, Tavish.”

  “I want you to be calm first.”

  “I’ll be calm when I see my dad alive and complaining in post-op.”

  Exhaling in clear frustration, he shook his head but started the vehicle. Her regret over giving in to selfishness, for having left town, haunted her for the first two hours of their drive.

  A half hour from the hospital, Tavish, who’d—bless him—stayed mostly silent since leaving the campsite, gripped her hand and cleared his throat. “It’s just a coincidence.”

  She pulled her fingers from his grasp. Crossing her arms around her already constricted ribs, she couldn’t hold in her self-directed vitriol any longer. “Well, I’m sick of my coincidences hurting the people I love.”

  * * *

  Tavish guided Lauren into the hospital waiting room, hand at the base of her palpably knotted neck. The pastel green walls matched her complexion. Her morning sickness had kicked in the minute they’d passed through the sliding doors into the lobby. She’d sprinted to a garbage can and puked up the granola bar he’d made her eat as they’d passed through West Yellowstone.

  Cadie sat in one of the banks of institutional fabric chairs, clasping a sobbing Ben to her chest like a life preserver. A wet splotch marked the front of her gray hoodie.

  Lauren fell into the chair next to Cadie. She hugged her sister and her nephew at the same time. “Here, let me take Ben.” Lifting the baby, she kissed his tear-streaked cheeks. “Hey there, buddy. How ’bout you calm down for Auntie Lauren?”

  The shudders gripping Ben’s tiny body lessened then stopped.

  Tavish sat next to Lauren and stared at her, awe spreading through him. Man, she was going to be a good mom. With any luck, she’d make up for his inevitable screw-ups. He’d spent some time around children on the job, but his learning curve would be mighty steep.

  Relief softened the exhaustion lining Cadie’s eyes. “Thanks. When I’m wound up, he won’t settle.”

  “Any time.” Lauren smoothed a hand over Ben’s fine hair. “What’s g
oing on? Angioplasty? Bypass?”

  “Angioplasty. Dad’s in recovery—everything went fine. The surgeon said we should expect to be able to see him around nine.”

  “Oh, thank God. I don’t know what I would have done...” Lauren shook her head and let out a huge breath in spurts. “Have you had breakfast?”

  “No.” Cadie looked apologetic. “I fed Ben, but not me. I don’t think I could eat.”

  “Me neither,” Lauren said.

  Tavish reached around her and stroked the backs of two fingers along Ben’s soft cheek. Soon it would be Lauren having, holding, soothing their baby. A thrill of possession shot up his spine. He could get used to the weight of her against his chest, her arms full of little boy. But the resurgence of her I-need-to-be-no-more-than-three-feet-away-from-my-family-at-all-times routine made him wary. Hopefully, once the initial panic over her father subsided, they’d be able to get back to her talking about travel. “Cadie, did you get a hold of Drew? We tried in the car but he wasn’t answering.”

  Cadie nodded. “He and Mackenzie should be here soon.”

  “Andrew called me ten minutes ago,” Zach Cardenas said as he arrived in the doorless archway. He leaned on his crutches. “They’re almost here.” His throat bobbed. “I’m so sorry, Cadence. I came to see if I can help in any way.”

  Cadie’s face crumpled at the same time her eyes brightened. She jumped up and rushed to Zach, who leaned to his left and put his weight on his nonbraced leg. He wrapped her in his arms. One of his crutches fell to the floor. And as his eyes closed, his heart cracked clear across his face.

  Tavish knew that look, knew that feeling. Knew his face was probably as obvious as Zach’s.

  “What do you need?” Zach asked.

  “I don’t know. Aunt Georgie’s going to come as soon as she finishes all the morning chores out at the ranch, and I can’t really ask her to babysit. But I want to take Ben home.”

  “I can do that,” Zach said.

  Cadie shook her tousled curls. “You’re using crutches. Ben’s too active for you.”

  “You have a stroller and a baby carrier. I won’t have to lug him around all that much.” Zach tipped Cadie’s chin up. “I can handle Ben for a few hours. Garnet’s got everything under control at the office.”