IT WAS FUNNY HOW EVEN THOUGH Gabby and Dane had only been living together a month, already they felt like a couple. At least she did—felt like half of a couple—despite his obvious wish for her to think otherwise.
Sunday, he hadn’t been home all day, leaving her in the hands of his mother and grandmother. Monday, he’d practically thrown her breakfast at her in his rush to get out the door.
But today, lying in bed at five on a Tuesday morning, Gabby knew Dane’s alarm was set for five-fifteen. Why on the quarter hour? Because he swore the extra fifteen minutes made all the difference on him getting enough sleep. She knew at 5:17 he’d shave, then grab a quick shower. On Monday, Wednesday and Friday, he went to his gym. But this morning, he’d linger, just a little bit. Just long enough to sit with her while she ate her blueberry bagel with cream cheese and drank a glass of OJ.
And then, once she’d finished and he’d taken her plate and glass to the kitchen, he’d return, asking her to check his tie—typically done in a flawless Windsor knot. She’d tell him it looked great. He’d thank her, fidget and make small talk for an awkward few minutes, and then he’d be off. His leaving had become her most despised part of the day, his homecoming the best.
“Would I be safe in assuming you want your usual?”
His question startled her.
“Um, sure,” she said into the darkness. Most times, he would’ve at least turned on a lamp. “Thank you.”
Her words had been wasted, as she already heard him banging around in the kitchen.
A few minutes later, he returned, flipping on the harsh overhead light.
In protest, her eyes refused to work.
“We’re out of cream cheese, so I buttered your bagel.”
“That’s fine. Thanks.” She swallowed the knot in her throat. Would things ever again be normal between them?
Wearing an imposing dark suit with a cobalt-blue shirt and tie, he wasn’t exactly looking his most welcoming best. Of course, he was incredibly handsome, but in an unapproachable way.
“You’re welcome,” he said, placing a serving tray on her lap. “I’ve gotta run, but Mom will be here around nine.”
“It’s only five-thirty. Why are you leaving so soon?”
“I’ve got a full schedule.”
“Or you’re avoiding me,” she said around a bite of buttery bagel. Her frustration only made her that much more hungry.
“Don’t be absurd.” He crossed his arms.
“You made it a point to be gone all day Sunday, you left first thing yesterday morning and didn’t come home till late last night. So late that you arranged for your mother to bring dinner.”
“Your point being?”
“Duh. You’re avoiding me.”
“I don’t have time for this.” Turning to leave the room, he added, “Hurry up and eat. I’ll take your tray.”
“Please, Dane, talk to me. The doctor specifically told me to avoid stress, and your silent treatment is giving me indigestion.”
Sighing, he said, “You’re being melodramatic.”
“From you, that’s rich. I’m not the one pouting like a big baby.”
“I don’t pout.” Nodding toward her tray, he commanded, “Hurry up and drink your juice.”
“No. If you’re going to act a quarter of your age in yelling at me, then I’ll follow suit by going on a hunger strike.”
Shaking his head, he snorted. “That’s a laugh, seeing how Mom is bringing you baked ziti for lunch.”
“Okay,” she said, folding her arms, as well, “then maybe I just won’t eat for you.”
“Why are you doing this?” Sighing, he fell into his usual chair, resting his elbows on his knees. “At this point, you could go into labor at any time and your baby would be safe—just a little early. We’re in the home stretch of our forced cohabitation. Can’t you just allow it to end gracefully instead of on a sour note?”
“Love to,” she said. “If you’d play nice, too.”
“Okay…” He deeply inhaled. “I can’t wait to hear what your expectations of ‘nice’ will be.”
“For starters—” still starving, she bit into the second half of her bagel “—I could really go for another one of these. Who knew they were this good with butter?”
He laughed. Really, deeply laughed until he was wiping tears from his eyes.
“What’s so fwunny?” she asked around her latest bite.
“If you had a mirror, you’d see.”
Touching fingers to her chin, she asked, “Do I have butter all over my face?”
“Nothing so obvious. I just find it amusing how a few minutes ago, you were railing about how you never wanted to eat again, yet now you’re demanding another bagel.”
“I hardly demanded. I suggested.”
“Uh-huh.” Still grinning, he took her plate. “Be right back. Want more juice?”
“Yes, please,” she said after finishing off her glass.
Upon his return, he sat again, only this time, he didn’t seem under duress, but more like his usual self. Steepling his fingers, he said, “I owe you an apology. As much as I hate to admit it, you were right. I have been avoiding you.”
Pausing midbite, in a quiet voice, she asked, “Why?”
With a sad chuckle, he said, “Damned if I know. I guess maybe because straight up, I am attracted to you. And I don’t know what to do about it.”
The honesty of his admission warmed her like a steaming cup of tea and honey.
“Do you have to analyze every little thing?”
After a moment’s consideration, he said, “Yes.”
Now she was the one laughing. “You’re a mess.”
“I agree.” Rising, he grasped her free hand and said, “How are we going to fix me?”
“We?” She nearly choked on her bagel. “How am I supposed to know a magic cure?”
He brought her hand to his lips, kissing her whisper-soft. “It’s your fault I have a problem.”
“How?” she asked, pulse on a runaway course.
“Lying there, day after day, tormenting me with your cuteness. Pregnant, glowing you, wearing all of your cute, frilly, lacy, froufrou stuff. Disgustingly irresistible.”
“Sorry?” She grinned. Never in her life had she felt more gigantic and unappealing, but far be it from her to disagree if that was the way Dane felt.
“You’ve turned my life upside down, and all you can say is sorry?” Stroking her palm with his thumb, he’d made all thoughts of anything but dizzying pleasure impossible. “I mean, seriously, Gabrielle, you’re in my head. Even on the bench, I find myself wanting to call you—just to see if you’re okay.”
“And?” Was it wrong that learning of his so-called problem made her happier than she’d been in she couldn’t remember when? “I see no problem with that.”
“You wouldn’t. But I never used to be this way.” Releasing her, he paced. “I mean, my job was all I ever thought about. Well, and family, but they’ve never been all consuming. Nothing like you. And then there’s that damned kiss…” He exhaled sharply.
“It was magical. Of course, that may just be my pregnancy hormones raging, but I’m pretty sure that even if I weren’t pregnant, I would enjoy kissing you.”
“But don’t you see?” He stopped in front of the window. The sun was rising and dawn’s glow slipped under wispy white curtains. “I shouldn’t have kissed you. I broke my own honor code, and now I don’t know how to live with myself.”
Gabby wasn’t sure what to say.
Dane’s admission had thrilled her, but he was obviously upset. She thought he’d been on the verge of letting go of the ghosts Ben had woven through his life. She’d been wrong. He clearly wanted to let go, but refused. Which only made her situation all the more frustrating. “I am sorry.”
He shook his head. “There’s nothing to be sorry for. I made the mistake, and I’ll deal with the repercussions.”
What repercussions? Guilt? Regrets? She’d push the issue, but what
was the point? He was hell-bent on taking the high road, and no matter how badly she craved his staying in her life even after her baby was born, she wasn’t about to beg.
If he didn’t want to be with her, then forget it. She didn’t want to be with him.
Chapter Nine
“Thanks for taking me to the doctor,” Gabrielle said Monday morning, squeezing herself into a waiting room chair at her obstetrician’s office.
“No problem.” It’d been a week since their morning talk, and on the surface, everything between Gabrielle and Dane seemed fine. But he knew the truth—he was torn up inside.
The office was packed with pregnant women. A TV in the corner had shown the same ten-minute prenatal care infomercial for nearly an hour. Dane could recite it.
The walls were green, the overstuffed sofas and chairs upholstered in dizzying stripes. As if the TV’s drone wasn’t annoying enough, sappy love songs played. Every side table was littered with pamphlets. Your Baby and You. Baby’s First Week. Breast-feeding Baby. The air smelled like apples. The jury was still out on whether that was good or bad.
“I’m nervous,” Gabrielle said.
Grasping her hand, Dane said, “Don’t sweat it. You’ve been the perfect patient.”
“Thanks to you.” Eyes shining with emotion, she looked so pretty, Dane had to avert his gaze. That morning, he’d helped her with her hair. He’d fumbled through blow-drying and brushing. Burned himself twice with the straight iron. He’d helped her dress in black maternity slacks and a yellow, black and white smock-style blouse—looking away during the intimate parts.
He shrugged off her compliment. A few weeks, and all of this would be behind him. A good thing, right?
“What’s got you so deep in thought?”
“A, um, case,” he lied.
“Is it juicy, sad or infuriating?”
Laughing, he only just now realized he still held her hand. He tried releasing her, but she held on tight.
“I know it’s juvenile, but please keep holding my hand. The comfort helps my nerves.” She aimed a wobbly grin his way, and he was a goner. Of course he’d hold her hand. For however long she liked.
“What’s this like for you? Being back out in the real world?”
“Overwhelming. I’d expected it to be exciting, but the traffic and noise and all of the people in here—it’s a bit much.” Leaning closer to him, she rested her head on his shoulder. Automatically, he raised his hand to comfort her, stroking her soft hair. “Being outside again was nice. In my yard. Feeling the sun on my face.”
“You should’ve told me you were craving the Great Outdoors. I would’ve carried you to your front porch.”
“You’re sweet,” she murmured, rubbing her hand absentmindedly along his chest.
“Gabrielle Craig,” a nurse called.
“Guess that’s me,” she said, struggling to her feet. Dane stepped in to help, tugging her upright while she leaned forward.
He kissed her forehead. “Hope it goes well.”
“You’re not coming with me?”
“I suppose I can, but…” As he’d told himself all too many times, he wasn’t the baby’s father. He had no right to privileges like being with Gabrielle during private meetings with her doctor.
“Don’t be a dork,” she teased, taking him by his hand. “And besides, if you don’t see the doctor, then you can’t have a lollipop and sticker when it’s time to leave.”
“Why didn’t you say so earlier?” Dane grinned. “I’d have already been back there.”
After some small talk, the doctor bared Gabrielle’s enormous belly, then waved a goop-slickened wand over the baby to listen for his heartbeat. Soon the room was filled with what sounded like a horse’s gallop. Emotion knotting Dane’s throat, he asked, “Is it normal for the little guy’s pulse to be so fast?”
“Absolutely,” the doctor assured. “Fetal heart rates are speedy. Anywhere between one-twenty to one-sixty beats per minute. Your little guy is clocking in at one-forty-four.”
Dane started to correct the doctor’s mistake in thinking the baby his, but didn’t. Hearing that heartbeat had washed a proprietary wave through him. As much time as Dane had put into making sure Gabrielle’s baby was healthy, he really did feel as if he was the infant’s father.
“Isn’t this exciting?” Gabrielle asked, reaching for his hand. When she laced her fingers between his, Dane’s sense of well-being was electric. Being with Gabrielle felt right. As if his life leading up to this point had been a dress rehearsal. This—now—was the real deal. But so was the fact that Ben was his brother. So were Dane’s vows to never sink to Ben’s level.
During the private portions of Gabrielle’s exam, Dane ducked out into the hall, but a nurse soon called him back in. Though there were chairs in the cramped exam room, Dane preferred standing alongside the mom-to-be. Curving his hand over her shoulder, hoping she felt his support.
“I’ve got good news and bad,” Dr. Yan said. Dane remembered the petite, kind woman from the hospital. A nurse dressed in Snow White-themed scrubs kept busy at the small counter, cleaning up the supplies the doctor had used. “Which would you like first?”
“Bad,” Gabrielle said, a frown creasing her forehead.
“Relax.” Dr. Yan gave her an easy grin and a pat to Gabrielle’s feet. “Even the bad isn’t all that traumatic. You’re still two centimeters dilated, but in cases like yours, that’s common. The good news is at thirty-three weeks, even if you went into labor today, your baby would most likely be fine—maybe a pound or two smaller than we’d optimally like.”
“That’s all good news,” Gabrielle said with a relieved sigh. “The way this kid has been kicking, I thought you were about to tell me I’d be giving birth to a third-grade soccer star.”
Laughing, making notes on Gabrielle’s chart, the doctor said, “Not quite. Maybe just a second-grader.” Finishing her notation, she added, “In all seriousness, you and your baby are doing great. Meaning the real bad news is that in a few short weeks, all of the pampering you’ve been getting is about to stop, and the work of caring for this little guy is about to begin.”
“After lying in bed so much,” Gabrielle said, “I’m actually looking forward to caring for someone else.”
The doctor laughed. “All right, then. Unless there are problems, the next time I see you will be in another two weeks.”
“Oh—” Struggling to sit up, Gabrielle said, “I forgot to ask, a good friend of mine’s birthday is Friday. If I do nothing but sit, would it be all right if I attend her party?”
“You mean Mom’s?” Dane asked.
“Duh,” Gabrielle snipped. “It’s not like I’ve seen anyone else who’s having a party.”
“Did I say you had?” Dane happened to glance at the doctor only to find her smiling. It irked him to see that she’d found their spat amusing.
Clearing her throat, the doctor said, “By all means, go. Just don’t overdo it by dancing on any tables.”
“Maybe just one,” Gabrielle said with a wink.
“Seriously—the second you get into the home where the party is being held, I want you stretched out on the sofa.”
Dane helped her scoot off the exam table, then ushered her to the office’s checkout counter.
Outside, blue skies had turned gray. It was forecasted to rain that night. The temperature was in the muggy high eighties, with hardly a breath of wind stirring the newly built clinic’s manicured grounds.
Helping Gabrielle into his car, Dane asked, “So Mom’s having a big party, huh?”
“Just family. I think she mentioned your uncle Tommy and Aunt Frieda are coming.”
“Swell.” He fastened her seat belt. “The last time Uncle Tommy came, he brought enough homemade wine to leave Nana with a three-day hangover.”
“He did not,” Gabrielle said, giving him a playful swat.
“I didn’t say he did, I said his wine did.” He winked before shutting her door.
“
MMM,” GABBY SAID, FINALLY back in her pj’s and climbing into bed. “Who’d have thought I’d actually miss lying down?”
“You’ve had a busy day. Getting dressed, walking fifty feet, taking a car ride…” Dane grinned.
“You’re awful.” She pulled up the sheets and quilt. Scowling, she asked, “Why are you being so mean?”
“Oh, I’m hardly being mean,” he said, handing her a glass of cold milk. “Want cookies to go with that?”
“Yes, please.”
While he was gone, Gabby fiddled with her pillows, trying to arrange them just right. Finally comfortable, she leaned back and closed her eyes. What a fun afternoon it had been. And how hard up was she for entertainment when a routine trip to the doctor was major entertainment? Dane had been the perfect companion. Funny and supportive and—
“Here you go, Your Highness.” The saucer he handed her held three peanut-butter cookies. His mother had made them, bringing a dozen with yesterday’s lunch.
“Thank you,” she said with a sweet smile. “And from now on when you address me, please use Queen Gabby. It’s my preferred title.”
Shaking his head, he asked, “Your Royal Pain in My Behind, what sounds good for dinner?”
“Since you asked, I’ve really been craving steak. Feel like firing up the grill?”
“For you—” he leaned over to kiss her forehead “—absolutely. Do you have a gas grill or charcoal?”
Drawing her lower lip into her mouth, she said, “I’m afraid of the former. Is that okay? Ben was always telling me to get a real grill.”
“I prefer charcoal,” he said. “I’ll pick some up at the store. Need anything else besides steak and all of the trimmings?”
For you to kiss me again—only this time on the lips!
Fearing her face was as red as it was hot, she looked away. “That sounds great. Thank you so much.”
“My pleasure.” He looked at her for a long time, like he wanted to say or do something more, but wouldn’t.
“Well…” Gesturing toward the door, he said, “Movie magazines? Candy? Anything?”
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