“The martyr act is admirable, but you didn’t get like this on your own. I’ll help you.”
“So in between saving premature babies you’re going to watch ours so I can finally get my career on track?”
“Like I said, we’ll figure things out.”
“I’ve never experienced a ‘we.’ There’s always just been me. My body, my problem.”
“My baby, too,” he said quietly.
All the fight drained out of her and she leaned back in the club chair. “Just so you know, I know I’m being unreasonable. If it’s all right with you, I think I’ll blame it on pregnancy hormones.”
“That works for me.”
As a corner of her full mouth quirked up, he felt an absurd surge of desire. The subdued lighting here in the bar made a sexy shadow of the small dent in her chin and he desperately wanted to explore it with his tongue. Somehow during that brief, passionate encounter when they’d made a baby, he’d missed out on discovering every single inch of her and wanted another opportunity. Not likely now. A good thing because it wasn’t rational. And definitely not smart.
He excelled at rational and smart, but somehow Cindy changed the rules on him. She was pregnant with his child and this was uncharted territory. It was also a medical condition and that was someplace to start.
He took a sip of his club soda. “Other than hormones, how are you feeling?”
“A little queasy,” she admitted.
He wanted to say something clinically clever, tell her how to fix it, but this wasn’t his specialty. “Have you seen an obstetrician?”
Her expression turned wry. “I just barely peed on the stick.”
“So that would be a no,” he concluded.
“No,” she agreed.
“Okay.” He nodded thoughtfully. “I can give you a couple of names. But Rebecca Hamilton is at the top of the list. She’s very good and I think you’d be comfortable with her.”
“I’ll see if she’s a tier-one doctor on the Mercy Medical insurance plan.”
“I’m sure she is because she has medical privileges there. If not, I’ll take care of it.”
“It? What does that mean?” Tension made her straighten in the club chair.
“I’ll take care of the expenses.”
“Because?”
“It’s my responsibility.”
Her eyes narrowed. “Wow, that gave me a warm and fuzzy feeling.”
“Is that the hormones talking again?”
“Yeah. Me, my hormones and I.” She closed her eyes and shook her head. When she met his gaze again, the hurt was back. “I’m not your responsibility, Nathan. I can take care of myself and this baby.”
Apparently, responsibility was one of those words that triggered a hormonal response. He tucked the information away and searched for something to say that wouldn’t tap into that well of defensiveness she had going on. He was attempting to say and do the right thing without research and training to fall back on. It was like trying to move a canoe with one paddle.
He blew out a long breath. “Look, Cindy, I want you to have the best prenatal care.”
“Why?”
The word responsibility came to mind yet again but it hadn’t gone over well either time. There was no reason to believe that had changed. So he rephrased. “Just so we’re clear, I am going to be involved. Because this is my child, too.”
She stared at him a long time before saying, “I guess this is a bad time to realize the flaw of sleeping with you to get you out of my life.”
And then she really did leave. He sat there for a few minutes as the situation sank in. A baby. It hit him like a meteor dropping out of the sky.
His baby.
Right now his child was growing inside her.
Holy crap.
An hour ago Nathan had been talking to Cindy and now he stood in the NICU at Mercy Medical Center, staring at a baby small enough to fit in the palm of his hand.
An infinitesimal embryo formed from his DNA and Cindy’s was actually growing into a baby. He just couldn’t wrap his head around the concept and make it real. Especially with the beeps, whooshes and noises of the hightech sensitive equipment filling the room. This was where babies ended up when there was a problem pregnancy.
“Why are you still here?”
Nathan turned at the sound of the familiar female voice. “Hi, Annie.”
The petite, blue-eyed brunette was his medical partner in the neonatology practice. They’d met in school and become friends. She’d introduced him to his late wife and was one of the select few who didn’t blame him when the relationship unraveled just before Felicia died. He knew the failures were all his and would carry the burden of that for as long as he lived. This woman’s friendship meant a lot to him, especially because he didn’t deserve it.
Annie looked up. The pixie haircut suited her small face. “You know I’m on call this week.”
“Yeah. I just wanted to come back and check up on this little guy.”
She glanced at the gladiator. “I just looked over his latest oxygen saturation levels. The CO2 and PO2 results are all in normal range. He’s doing pretty well for as small as he is.”
“Yeah. I read his chart.”
“Respiratory therapy was just here to check the ventilator. It’s all good, Nathan.”
“I’m worried about a bowel perforation.”
“You’re always concerned about that. I am, too.” She settled her hands on her hips and slanted a puzzled look at him. “But something’s up.”
“What makes you say that?” Was it tattooed on his forehead? One-night stand? Father-to-be?
“This is me,” she said. “Don’t even try to pretend I don’t know you better than you know yourself.”
He was pretty sure she was right about that and felt a little sorry for her. Because she was wasting her time on him. “Nothing’s going on.”
“Oh, please.” She huffed out a breath. “I’ll buy you a cup of coffee and we can talk.”
“Buy?” He stared at her. “Really?”
“Okay. Technically, I’ll pour. Doctor’s dining room. Now.”
Nathan looked at the infant, the tiny chest moving up and down with help from the ventilator. “I don’t know. What if he needs—”
“Don’t go there. The ‘what-ifs’ will make you crazy.”
He shook his head. “Maybe we should—”
“Look, Nathan, we’ll be right downstairs. If anything happens we can be here in a minute or less. On the really bright side—” She smiled tenderly at the baby who couldn’t see her. “This little boy gets two neonatal specialists for the price of one because you’re going schizoid on me. You need to talk. I know that look.”
“Okay.” From knowing her a long time he knew that it was easier to give in than argue and lose.
They headed to the dining room on the first floor of the hospital. It was reserved for the doctor’s use and available twenty-four hours a day. The tables were covered with white cloths and there was always