And why that phantom man wasn’t taking care of her.
“I can’t think about it anymore. I need positive thoughts right now, for my baby’s sake,” she said with a note of finality. “Chicken soup, you said?”
“Or anything else you feel like eating.” Anticipating her next move, he took a step back as she turned, her belly a whisper away from brushing his.
“Have I said thank you for all you’re doing, Chief?”
“Not in the past two hours.”
The phone rang. He grabbed the portable receiver he’d brought with him. “Chief Ryker.”
“How’s the patient?”
J.T. eyed her. She’d moved to look out the picture window and was staring at the cloudless night sky, her hands gliding in circles over her belly, as if massaging the baby. “You can ask her yourself, Max. She actually speaks English.”
Over her shoulder she smiled at him. He passed her the phone then headed for the kitchen to heat up the soup. He’d already figured out that she was more comfortable eating a small meal every few hours, so he’d adjusted his schedule to her needs. It hadn’t been difficult to cater to her, just a battle to get her to let him.
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