He yanked the hat from his face, blinked and squinted at a woman in green scrubs who was leaning on her cart and smiling at Cady.
“Are you guys taping an episode of Toddler Eye for the Daddy Guy?”
Cady eyed the woman. “Hi.”
“Hi, sweetie. Are you having fun twisting your dad around your little finger?”
Cady should pick the red hat next. It would probably match the heat creeping into his face.
“She takes her job as fashion consultant seriously,” he said.
“I can see that.”
Was that a compliment?
“Sorry we’re blocking the aisle. Give me a second and we’ll be out of your way.”
“Oh, you’re fine. I don’t need anything here.” The woman waved toward the racks of Halloween accessories. “But I have to tell you, I just got off a killer twelve-hour shift in the ER—and it was such a treat to hear someone laughing that I had to see where it was coming from.”
“Yeah, I imagine that would sound pretty good.”
“You definitely brightened my day, sweet girl. Thank you.” The woman shifted her smile to Xander. It was a very nice smile.
Not as nice as Heather’s.
But Heather had called it quits.
Cady tipped her head in her most enchanting manner. “You gots cookie?”
The woman burst into laughter. A very nice laugh.
Yeah, but it doesn’t sink into you the way Heather’s does.
But Heather didn’t want what he wanted. She didn’t want the kids and family thing. One strike and she was out. He didn’t need that kind of negativity in his life. He needed someone who could see beyond the past.
“Sorry, sweetie,” the woman said. “No cookies. Those only come from Daddy.” Her gaze drifted to his left hand. “And Mommy.”
She wasn’t Heather. But she was here and obviously interested. She liked Cady. She seemed normal and intelligent and everything he should be looking for.
If he had half a brain, he would pull an emergency Band-Aid out of his wallet and scribble his number on the back.
“Speaking of Mommy,” he said, “we should probably get moving.”
Seemed his brain wasn’t ready to move on.
Neither was the rest of him.
* * *
“SLIDE DOWN, PLEASE.”
At the doctor’s words, Heather gritted her teeth and scooted farther down the paper-covered table. Someday, someone was going to find a way to make these exams less intrusive and a whole lot less embarrassing, and when that day came, women around the world would stand up and do the Macarena. But until then, they were stuck with contortions, pinching and—
“Feet in the stirrups, that’s right.”
Distraction. She needed a distraction. It would help if the doc had put up some pictures on the ceiling, some peaceful sunsets or those inspirational quotes, but no. Blank, empty ceiling tiles.
Kind of like the way she felt these days.
Which had nothing to do with ending things with Xander, of course. She was just...tired. Run down. The last few weeks had been a roller coaster... The game changing talk with Millie and the million questions that had followed... The second interview, and then, a few days later, the mind-blowing news that she was being offered the job... The teeter-totter emotions that accompanied giving her notice and finishing her time at Duffy Young, all while getting Millie ready for the start of school. Of course she was exhausted. Add in the low-level stomach bug she’d been fighting for the past few days, and yeah. No wonder she felt numb inside.
And okay, maybe it did have a little to do with Xander.
“Let your knees drop wide open, that’s right...”
But things were on the upswing. Yesterday had been her last day at Duffy Young. Today, she’d come back into Ottawa for a farewell lunch with Leah before this delightful—ouch—appointment. She had a long, lazy vacation week coming, and then she would start her new job, which would be an excellent time to press Hank about his decision. Nothing but good times ahead.
“Heather, when was your last—Hang on, it’s here on your paperwork.”
Except she still missed Xander.
She missed having someone to laugh with. Collaborate with. That feeling she had an ally. She missed the way she felt...well...safe with him. Like he understood so much about her that she didn’t need to explain. That he understood all about messing up, and all about rebuilding. That he could see past her worries and mistakes to the real her, the part that still dared to hope and dream even when the world shook a judgmental finger at her.
And yeah, she missed the sex. But she was not going to think about that while lying spread-eagle on an exam table. She would think about...about...
“Oof.”
She hadn’t been prepared for the doctor’s hand pressing hard on her abdomen.
“Sorry.” Dr. Jackson sounded more distracted than apologetic. “I’m just checking... Heather, how long ago did you have your tubes tied?”
Well, that was a weird question. It was all in her chart.
“Uh...almost nine years ago.” It was one of the first things she did after running away. Because one thing that was clear in the mess that was her life back then was that she never, ever wanted to risk messing up another kid, endangering another child.
“Heather.”
Something in the doctor’s voice brought her attention back to the room, to the procedures, to the crinkly paper and the slight ache in her thighs.
And to the melancholy fatigue she’d blamed on life and not being with Xander.
And to the tenderness in her breasts, which she had blamed on PMS.
And to the PMS which, now that she thought about it, had seemed to go on much longer than usual.
And to, oh dear God, that night at the Cline place when she had insisted there was nothing to worry about.
No.
“No. I can’t be...” She looked into the doctor’s compassionate face and swallowed hard. “It’s impossible.”
“Impossible things happen all the time, Heather.” The doctor placed a warm, steadying hand on her shoulder. “But we need to talk.”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
XANDER HAD BARELY walked into the house after work when his doorbell rang. He paused midway through yanking his tie loose and glanced toward the door. Not that he could see through it, but hey. A guy never knew when he might develop X-ray vision.
He wasn’t expecting anyone. He wouldn’t have Cady until morning. Odds were that whoever was out there wanted to either sell him something or convert him, and he wasn’t in the mood for either of those encounters.
Maybe he could pretend he wasn’t home.
But just as he had the thought, the bell rang again, followed immediately by a rapid knocking at the door.
He pulled his phone from his pocket and checked the display as he walked to the door. Sure enough, he’d missed a text. When he saw the name on the display he double-timed it to the door.
“Hey,” he said as he pulled it open. “What’s—”
The question died in his throat as he took in the sight of Heather, white-faced and red-eyed on his step.
“Heather?” Was she shaking? “Babe? Are you okay?”
She didn’t move. Simply stood in front of him, biting her lip and staring at him with eyes that darted back and forth, as if she were unsure where to look. No—as if she were hunting for an escape.
Jesus. Had she driven here in this state?
He took her arm and guided her to the sofa.
“Hey.” He crouched beside her, longing to take her hand but unsure if his touch would be welcome or not. “What’s up?”
She bit down harder, her teeth sinking into that soft lip as if to penetrate it. Wetness sh
immered in her eyes.
Whatever this was, it had him scared.
“Heather? Come on, babe. Talk to me. Is it...is Millie okay? Your brother?”
She shook her head.
“No.” Her whisper was broken and wavering. “No. It’s nothing like that.”
“Thank God.” It was more prayer than platitude.
She lifted her face to his. Some of the confusion in her eyes disappeared, which was good until he saw it had been replaced by panic.
“What am I doing?” Her words were directed at herself, he was sure, not at him. “I shouldn’t have... This is stupid. I should have gone straight home. I shouldn’t have come here. I shouldn’t be telling you—”
He grabbed her. “Shouldn’t tell me what?”
She was still shaking. He let his palm slide down her arm, seeking her hand, curling around hers and welcoming the way she grabbed on to him, fierce and trembling but still connected. The panic in her eyes faded, replaced by shock and fear and, oddly, a hint of something steely. Like she was bracing herself.
She swallowed and wrapped her other hand around his, as well.
“I’m pregnant.”
“What?”
“I just came from the doctor. I didn’t think... I had no idea. I was there for a checkup, because I wanted to get it out of the way before I start... But then she said...and they did the tests, blood and urine, and I’m a few weeks late, which didn’t even register, but she—”
“Wait a minute. Wait.” Thank God they were sitting, because if ever he’d had his knees knocked out from beneath him, this was it. “You can’t be.”
“That’s what I said. The doctor kind of laughed and said, well, obviously the ba—my body didn’t get the memo.”
Baby. She almost said baby.
* * *
“BUT HOW?”
Heather pulled her hands free to cradle her cheeks. “I don’t know. She—the doctor—said, well, I was still pretty young when I had my tubes tied. And apparently, the rate of...this goes up after about seven or eight years, especially because I was young when I had it done. It still hardly ever happens, but lucky me, I guess I’m that one woman everybody’s heard about who...”
Her voice trailed away. Her head bent and her shoulders hunched, curling in on herself, and the hell with holding back, he pulled her against his chest, rocking her, whispering whatever words came to his shell-shocked mind. It’s okay. We’ll get through this. I’m here. Words that, he realized as soon as he said them, were all true.
She pulled back from him, cupping her cheeks again. She wasn’t crying. It was more like she was moving very carefully so she wouldn’t shatter.
“How far along are you?” he asked.
“Not far. It must have been that night at the Cline place.”
The night that made her end things.
“But nothing...” She trapped her hands between her knees. “We don’t need to panic yet. It might not...the odds are that it’s not going to last anyway.”
“What do you mean?”
She breathed in deep, closed her eyes and spoke as if reciting from a medical brochure. “Pregnancy after tubal ligation carries a high risk of being ectopic. Tubal,” she added, after opening her eyes and probably reading his lack of comprehension. “It gets stuck in the fallopian tube instead of moving to the uterus.”
“So what happens then?”
“Then it’s a medical issue. It has to be removed before it gets too big and the tube ruptures.”
“Wait. Removed? How? Surgery?” Panic rose in his throat. Was she in danger?
“Maybe. Or drugs. It all depends... I have to go back on Monday. For blood work and a sonogram. That will give us an idea if this is even...even an issue.”
“Monday? But what if something happens before then?” Jesus, how could the doctor just let her walk away? “You should be in the hospital, damn it!”
Something that resembled a laugh filled the air. “It’s okay. I know what to watch for, but things are still early enough that I should be fine until then.”
“I’m coming with you.”
“Where?”
“Monday. When you go back to the doctor. I’m coming with you.”
“No, Xander. I’m fine. Really. I knew I shouldn’t have said anything yet. There’s no need to—”
He cradled her face with his hands. “There’s every need.”
Her mouth tipped in the closest thing he’d seen to a smile. “Xander. Look. I know you missed out on everything with Cady, but I...this is all so fresh. It hasn’t sunk in yet, not really, and I... I mean, by this time next week, this could all be just like—like an appendix. A medical problem that needed intervention, but you get things done and then it’s all better.”
* * *
“IS THAT WHAT you want?”
The fleeting smile faltered. “I don’t know.”
That had to be better than an immediate yes. Right?
“And what if it’s not a problem?” he asked. “What if we go in there Monday and they say everything is good to go?”
Her shuddering breath shook right through him. “I don’t know.”
He scooted forward, tipping to rest his forehead against hers. “Sorry. That wasn’t a fair question.”
“Oh, believe me, compared to some of the things I already asked myself, and the doctor, and God, that was nothing.”
Silence seemed like a pretty decent idea right then, so he let it flow over them while her breath slowly settled to a more natural rhythm.
“I still think I should have waited to tell you,” she said, her hands clutching his. “But I’m kind of glad I didn’t.”
“Me, too.” He kissed her forehead. Soft. Quick. Just to let her know he was there.
“I should go home.”
“You can stay as long as you want, babe.”
She shook her head. “I have Millie this weekend.”
Ah. “You sure you’re okay to drive?”
“Right as rain, sunshine.” Her smile was still tiny, but much more hers. “Thanks.”
“Okay. Then go home, breathe and enjoy Millie.”
“Right. Good plan.” She pulled back, offering up a weak smile. It hit him that he had totally forgotten something.
“Listen, this was all so—you know, unexpected. I never even thought to ask how you’re feeling.”
“You mean other than stunned?”
“I was thinking more like, don’t women usually get sleepy or start throwing up? Stuff like that?”
“Oh. Right.” She wrinkled her nose, the way she had when she was concentrating on the job proposal. “Yes to both of those. Well, no throwing up, but queasy. And tired. And...” She laughed lightly. “I guess that explains why I can’t stand the smell of chicken anymore.”
“That doesn’t sound too bad.”
“It’s not. Yet.”
Yet. Had that little word ever meant so much?
“Listen,” he said, watching to see if it was too soon to say this. “I know you’re still reeling, and you have a ton of stuff to sort through. But I want you to know two things.”
She looked up at him, her eyes still wide but her expression more peaceful. He hoped he’d contributed to that.
“First, you’re not alone. That’s the most important part, okay? I know it might not feel that way right now, but I am not going to make you go through any of this by yourself.”
She bumped her head against his shoulder. He had a feeling that was code for Thank you.
“Number two—I’m in this with you, but we both know you’re the one who’s gonna bear the brunt of everything. If this turns out to be, you know, more than just a medical issue, I swear to respect any decision you make about what comes next.”
Still no words, but her squeeze of his hand told him she understood.
“And I lied. There’s a third thing.”
She glanced up at him.
“I know this is insane and scary and a million other things I can’t sort through yet. But honestly, Heather? The part of me that isn’t freaking is kind of excited. Maybe even a little happy.”
She pulled her hand free.
“I really should go now.”
She grabbed her purse and made a beeline for the door. He barely caught up with her before she made it outside.
“Heather.”
She didn’t look up. It killed him, but he was pretty sure she was trying to keep from falling apart. Much as he wanted to pull her close and tell her to go ahead, cry on his chest, break into pieces on him, he knew she wanted to get home for Millie. And he was pretty sure she didn’t want to greet her with tear-stained cheeks.
“I have Cady tomorrow and Sunday, but if you need me at any point, promise you’ll call, okay? If there’s any problem, or you need an ear. Or if that whole pickles and ice cream thing turns out to be true.”
Her shoulders hunched. Too soon.
“Sorry.” He winced.
She nodded and left without a word.
After she pulled away from the curb and drove out of sight, he looked up to the ceiling.
“From now on,” he said, “whenever anyone says that you work in mysterious ways, I’m gonna say, buddy, you have no idea.”
* * *
PREGNANT.
The word rattled around her brain, covering all other thoughts like morning fog, obscuring and clouding and making everything feel slightly out of reach and off balance. It wasn’t possible. It couldn’t be.
And yet she had a blood test and a doctor’s assurance that it was indeed the truth.
She tried to push it aside once Millie arrived. Her girl deserved her full attention. Hanging with Millie could reassure her, too, remind her that she had been in this position once before and things had turned out okay.
Well, except for the emotional breakdown. And the abandonment. And the divorce.
Yeah, maybe that wasn’t the way to go.
Millie, however, had so many stories about the first week of school that Heather got to spend most of the weekend smiling and nodding and asking questions that Mills was only too happy to answer. Heather was always glad when it was a Millie weekend, but she was particularly grateful this time around, when she couldn’t decide if she wanted Monday to come quickly or never arrive.
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