by Janice Lynn
“I need you.”
“Then I feel badly for you.” If he believed her, things would be different, but he didn’t. Words came cheap and actions spoke loud.
“What about the baby?”
Which was the real clincher in all this. The wrench he hadn’t counted on when he’d made the decision to shake up their relationship.
“What about the baby?” he repeated, trying to remain logical and not let his heart lead him astray. He’d focus on the baby he’d never wanted and that he worried she’d never be there for because she’d be running to one patient after another. “We’ll talk to a lawyer and come up with a compromise on custody. A plan we can both live with, hopefully both be happy with. Keeping things civil between us works to everyone’s advantage.”
He managed to sound calm, even though his insides twisted.
Her eyes widened with fear and outrage. “A lawyer?”
Did she expect him to pretend he didn’t know she carried his baby? He may not have wanted to be a father, to carry that kind of responsibility, but no way in hell would he walk away from his child.
Of course, Melissa had no idea he checked on her daily so maybe she believed he had turned his back on her.
“It would be in our best interests for us to have custody legalized.” His baby would have his name. No matter what, he’d insist upon that. “Surely you see that?”
She gawked at him. “Are you saying you’re going to try to take my baby away from me?”
“Our baby,” he reminded her, annoyed that she was trying to cut him out of even that. “And, no, that’s not what I said. Joint custody, Melissa. I’d never keep our child from knowing his or her mother.”
“But you think I might?” she scoffed. “That’s why you want a lawyer?”
“No,” he sighed. “I don’t think you’d try to keep our baby from me. You’ve been honest about your pregnancy, even after I gave you reason not to be.” He studied her for a moment, taking in her glistening eyes. “It couldn’t have been easy to tell me you’re pregnant after I said I was moving out.”
“No,” she admitted, averting her gaze, attempting to hide the raw hurt. “It wasn’t.”
Had she thought he’d stay? That she could live her life just as it was and he’d be there whenever she decided to toss some attention his way? Their baby’s way?
Why wouldn’t she? It’s what they’d been doing for months.
She’d been right about him not saying anything until that fateful night. Which made him wonder why he hadn’t. Had he been willing to accept the status quo just to keep her in his life? Up till that night when he’d discovered another person—their baby—would face the repercussions of his cowardice at facing a lonely, broken heart.
“You had a right to know about our baby.” She bit her lower lip. “I couldn’t not tell you.”
She shivered and he wondered what had run through her mind when she’d told him about their baby.
“Look, it’s late and I haven’t eaten. Do you want to grab a bite to eat?” He glanced around the lab, wondering what the hell he was doing and, better yet, why.
“I’m not sure that’s a good idea.” Apparently she questioned the wisdom of their dining together, too. Still, he wanted to get out of the lab, to get her off her feet and some food in her belly.
“We need to talk, to try to figure out what it is we want regarding the baby.” They really did have a lot to discuss. Things they should decide before involving a third party.
“OK,” she agreed, although he could tell it was with reluctance.
“Good. You need to eat.”
She gave him a disgusted look. “Not you, too.”
“Debbie giving you a hard time?” he asked, grinning, trying to lighten the mood. Although confused about the emotions running though him, he couldn’t stand to see her so stressed. Besides, spending the evening with her would only show her that much more what she’d lost.
Looking puzzled at his olive branch, she nodded. “Hopefully the nausea will pass soon, but until then I’m condemned to listen to her complain about my weight.”
“You’re too thin,” he said, causing her to frown. There he went, upping the tension again. Not that he’d meant to but, hell, she was too thin.
Her spine went ramrod straight. “Thanks.”
“I just meant that you’ve lost weight when you should be gaining it.”
Her chin lifted. “Lots of women lose weight during the first stages of pregnancy.”
“Four, maybe five months is past the first stages, don’t you think?” He raked his gaze over her slender frame. Despite the bulge at her midsection, her clothes hung loosely and her bones were too prominent. “How much have you lost? Ten pounds? Fifteen?”
“Doesn’t matter. I’ll put it back on.”
“What did Dr McGowan say when you saw him?”
“That I need to eat more, but I’m healthy. He doesn’t expect any complications.”
Her gaze wouldn’t meet his and she hesitated just long enough that he knew Dr McGowan hadn’t glossed over her weight as much as she let on.
“Does he know I’m the father?”
“He asked how you were, so I assume he knows. I listed you as my emergency contact.” Her face wrinkled in thought. “I did it without thinking, then second-guessed whether or not I should have since we’re not together, but I’d written in ink.”
How had things become so awkward between them?
Him moving out of the house and an unplanned pregnancy. That’s how.
“It’s fine,” he assured her, shutting down the computer and locking up his and Kristen’s notes inside a cabinet. “I want to know if there’s any problems.”
But Melissa looked uncomfortable and, whether or not it fit with his desire for her to see what she’d lost, he swore that before the night was over he’d ease the worry lines furrowing her forehead.
How could he not? Her health and well-being was the health and well-being of their baby.
Going to dinner with James had been a mistake. A huge mistake.
The entire evening had been a huge mistake.
Why had she gone to where she knew she’d find him? After her appointment with Dr McGowan, she should have driven home. For that matter, why had she opted to go to an obstetrician in Nashville rather than at much closer Dekalb?
Well, Dr McGowan did do her yearly gynecological exam, so maybe James wouldn’t assume it had anything to do with him.
It didn’t have anything to do with him.
She sneaked a glance at him. He stared straight ahead, watching the late evening traffic. Thick lashes shielded his eyes and his jaw flexed with tension. His dark hair had grown out enough that it curled at the ends. She itched to touch the soft strands. Itched to touch him, period.
Her entire body had shaken when she’d put her hands on his chest in the lab.
Of course, she’d also shaken when she’d walked in to find James and Kristen practically in each other’s arms. He’d been looking at the cardiologist with deep emotion.
The muscles in Melissa’s chest clamped down and she struggled to breathe. James was an attractive man, a good man. Dr Weaver wouldn’t hold the exclusive on wanting him. Whether or not he wanted children, whether or not he hid his heart behind walls, women would line up to catch his eye and count their lucky stars if he glanced their way.
She’d had his eye, his attention, and she’d let a desire for a baby blind her to what she and James had shared. Now, by the grace of God, she would have his baby, but no longer had any other claim over the most important man to ever enter her life.
He’d announced they were getting married and she’d said no. Idiot. But how could she have said yes when the only reason he’d asked had been because of the baby?
But, then, had she told him about the baby in the hope he’d not leave? Sure, ethics played a role, but had she secretly hoped James would polish his armor and come riding in on his trusty white steed?
But he ha
dn’t swept her off her feet because she hadn’t been around for him to do any sweeping. When all was said and done, she’d be left to face each day alone. And she couldn’t blame anyone but herself.
“You OK?” Blue eyes stared at her, then quickly glanced at the road and back.
“I’m not sure my dinner agreed with me.” What was she supposed to say? That she felt like she was dying on the inside? That she missed him and wanted him to come home? Wait, she had said that.
He’d said no.
A sob gurgled up her throat and she bit it back, turning to stare out the window at the Twenty-First Avenue traffic.
“You didn’t eat enough for it to have upset your stomach.”
She turned, noticed his white-knuckled grip on the leather-coated steering wheel and wondered at his tension.
“Why?” she asked, before giving thought to her words. “Why did you have to leave me?”
Was that desperation she heard in her voice? She hated it, felt reduced to the lonely little girl she’d once been, begging for someone to love her, anyone. She’d survived then, learned to rely on herself, to throw herself into other things and excel at them. School first, then work. That had been enough. Until James. Until she’d begun to crave what he wouldn’t give her and had once again thrown herself into a working frenzy to distract herself from the emotional deficits in her life.
And now what? Was she going to snivel and beg for his love? Not during this lifetime. She lifted her chin.
“I shouldn’t have said that. We’ve discussed why you left and that you don’t want to come home. Now we have to figure out how we’re going to handle being parents that live in separate households, a subject we managed to completely avoid discussing during dinner.” They’d talked about Wilma Barnes, about his new students, about her appointment with Dr McGowan, about the raccoon who kept getting into the garbage, but not about any of the issues between them. “I’m sure we can come to an understanding.”
He didn’t say anything for a long time, just pulled into the Vanderbilt parking garage where she’d parked. He found a space near her car.
“How do you propose we do that?” He sounded distant, like he’d added another layer to that protective wall he hid behind.
She bit the inside of her lip, laid her hand over her protruding belly and sighed. “I’m not sure, but there has to be a way we can both be happy because, despite what you may think, I do want you to be happy, James.”
Although, watching him stare at the dashboard, looking so unlike the man she’d once laughed with, held in her arms, and woken up next to, she wondered if she’d ever be happy again.
CHAPTER SIX
AS PROMISED the night before, James met Melissa in the hospital waiting room and accompanied her to her sonogram appointment. A hundred times he’d considered backing out, had woken up in a cold sweat during the night with the reality of what he’d agreed to do.
He didn’t want to see his baby, didn’t want that image mixing with Cailee’s.
But he had no choice. He’d given Melissa his word. So here he stood, bracing himself for what he’d soon see on the screen, while the ultrasound technician rolled the wand over Melissa’s protruding belly. He stared haplessly at Melissa’s stomach, hoping he didn’t throw up—or, worse, pass out.
Because he couldn’t recall ever feeling this clammy, this weak-kneed. Well, yes, he could recall another time he’d felt this bad, and worse. When Cailee died.
Gel shone slickly on Melissa’s goosebumped skin. How could she be cold when he was sweating like a horse?
Straining her neck to see the screen, Melissa watched the monitor with awe on her face. Awe and protectiveness. It did his heart good to see her maternal instincts coming out. Because, during the long hours of his restless night, he’d decided the best thing he could do for their baby was to make sure Melissa took care of herself and to teach her not to let her career overwhelm every aspect of her life. That way she’d reach her potential of being a great mother, because he didn’t think he’d be a good father. How could someone who was afraid to care about a baby be a good dad?
“Amazing,” Melissa said, her voice hoarse with emotion.
He didn’t want to look. He really didn’t. Yet the light in her eyes, the look of pure love, suckered him in. What on the screen was so powerful as to completely entrance Melissa? Bracing himself, James looked, expecting familiar guilt to wash over him, expecting the image of Cailee’s face to overwhelm him.
Instead, he saw a tiny little person moving with an energy that defied the confines of Melissa’s belly. He watched in amazement as the baby carried on moving, oblivious to its spectators.
Unexpectedly, his fingers itched to touch the screen, to make contact with the baby. His baby. The child he and Melissa made together.
He didn’t want a baby. Knew he didn’t want one. Would argue till hell froze over that he never wanted kids.
Yet when he looked at the ultrasound monitor, saw the tiny person he’d helped make, he wanted it. Wanted with all his being for their baby to be healthy and happy and have a wonderful life. He knew deep in his gut that he’d move heaven and earth to make that happen.
His baby.
He held himself tense for fear of thoughts of Cailee. Thoughts that didn’t come. Instead, his thoughts focused on the tiny heart beating, the most precious gift he’d ever received.
With that tiny beating heart also came great fear. How could he take a chance on being responsible for a baby? On risking the devastation his parents had endured? The devastation he’d endured? What if he messed up and Melissa had to endure that pain because of him?
He wanted to take her in his arms, tell her all the wild thoughts bombarding him, tell her about Cailee. He’d almost told her once. Not long after he’d moved in with her, they’d been lying in bed in the afterglow of making love.
“James, do you see us having babies and growing old together someday?” she’d asked, lazily trailing her fingers over his bare chest. But there hadn’t been anything lazy in her gaze. There had been longing, longing for things he hadn’t wanted and a new fear had seized him. A fear that he might lose her.
“I can’t imagine ever not wanting to be with you, Melissa, but we don’t need babies to be happy. Not as long as we have each other.”
She’d raised herself up on her elbows, stared at him oddly. “You really don’t want kids? A girl who looks like you, a boy who looks like me?”
He’d rubbed his hand over his stubble-strewn jaw. “I don’t. If that’s where you see us going, I have to warn you otherwise. I won’t ever have kids.”
Her eyes had widened. “You can’t have kids?”
“I don’t choose to.”
“Why not? You’d make such a wonderful father, James.”
And that’s when he started to tell her about Cailee. He wouldn’t make a good daddy. He wasn’t even able to keep an eye on his three-month-old sister for two hours while his parents went out for the evening. Friends stopped by and Cailee was sleeping in her crib, so he thought nothing of the hour he spent shooting the breeze on the front porch. After all, if Cailee woke up, he’d hear her through the open doorway. Only she didn’t wake up and when, his friends having gone, he finally checked on her, she wasn’t breathing, and despite his frantic but unskilled efforts, nothing he did revived her. By the time the paramedics arrived, it was too late. The medical examiner ruled it as SIDS, sudden infant death syndrome, but James knew her death was his fault. If he’d been watching her, if he’d known what to do, he could have saved her, and he hadn’t. It was his fault Cailee died. His fault that his parents couldn’t heal from the loss and divorced less than six months later.
“I can’t think of anything I’d less want to be than a daddy.” He’d sat up, pulling Melissa to him so he could look into her eyes. “There will never be kids if you spend your life with me. If you can’t live with that, we should end this now, before either of us gets hurt.”
He’d waited with bated brea
th for her answer.
“But why? Why wouldn’t you want babies?”
Again, he’d considered telling her about Cailee. But what if Melissa couldn’t care for a man directly responsible for a baby’s death? What if she left him because of his negligence? After all the official reports, he’d never spoken of Cailee to anyone. Just the thought of saying her name out loud had been enough to convince him not to start now.
“The world is a horrible place,” he’d said instead. “There’s war, crime, hatred, diseases, overpopulation—Shall I go on? I don’t need children to validate my existence. The basic fact is that I don’t want kids. If you do, if I’m not enough, we should call it quits now.”
She’d stared at him for the longest time, then leaned forward and placed a gentle kiss on his lips. “I want you, James.”
“I’m serious, Melissa.” He’d needed to know she agreed, that she’d be with him without pressuring him for things he didn’t want.
“So am I. I want to be with you, James. Always.”
Always, she’d said, and he’d thought everything would be fine.
How wrong he’d been.
“Do you want to know the sex of your baby?” the technician asked, causing James to blink, realize that he’d gotten caught up in the past and forgotten where he was, what was happening.
His gaze met Melissa’s. Had she been watching him while he’d reminisced about days gone by? Confusion shone in her eyes. No wonder. He felt damned confused himself, mostly by his own reactions. They’d agreed on no kids and yet…He swallowed the knot in his throat.
“No,” Melissa answered, still studying him with bright eyes that saw too much.
“Yes,” James said at the same time, surprising himself at the admission. Particularly as he hadn’t known until that moment that he wanted to know everything he possibly could about their baby.
He glanced at the screen and winced at the odd emotions prickling in his chest. Moisture stung his eyes.
The baby moved, spread its legs, completely answering any question of gender.