Lifting his hands in the air, the young emergency room doctor backed away, his eyes wide. “Sir, it’s just a sedative,” he defended.
Heath took another angry step toward him. “Yeah. And she said she doesn’t want it.”
That wasn’t exactly what I’d said, but I figured he was paraphrasing.
I wasn’t scared of needles, and I desperately needed something to help slow my racing heart, but I’d yet to mention that I was pregnant to anyone.
And weren’t we a fucking pair, because the second I lost my shit, Heath lost his too.
Only my shit had been clawing up the bed, repeating, “Wait, wait, wait.”
Heath’s was much scarier.
“Do not make me repeat myself,” he snarled, taking another step forward.
I grabbed Heath’s arm. “Okay, let’s just take a deep breath.” I turned my gaze to the doctor. “Can I have a minute alone with my…um…guy?”
“Yeah. Sure. Whatever.” He pocketed the shot as he headed for the door, peering over his shoulder as if he were afraid Heath was going to attack him from behind.
And, as I looked back up at Heath, I understood the man’s fear.
“Honey,” I purred, tugging on his arm.
His irate gaze jumped to mine.
“Breathe. There’s no reason to be upset.”
“Bullshit. I’m pretty sure the word wait means the same as it always has. You don’t want that medicine—he does not get to continue. Plain and simple.”
I grinned and scooted over in the bed. “It’s just—” Shit. Why is this so hard? “Come here, Heath. We need to talk.”
He folded his tense body to sit on the edge of the bed and stared at me expectantly.
But I said not a single word.
I could have danced around this conversation for nine months. Part of me was nervous to tell him. Part was excited for him to know. Part was terrified that there was nothing to know.
“What do you need, Clare?” he whispered when I started chewing on my thumbnail.
“I’m pregnant,” I blurted.
His already tense shoulders turned to stone. “I’m sorry. What?”
“I’m pregnant. Well, at least I was this morning.”
His face paled. “How…how do you know?”
I wrung my hands in my lap. “I ordered a test on Amazon. Also, coincidentally, I stole your credit card to buy a test on Amazon.”
“But we used protection,” he argued.
“Except for those couple of times in the shower. And I’m pretty sure that still counts.”
He shot to his feet. “Oh, Jesus.”
“Heath, it’s okay. We don’t even know if it will stick.”
He began to pace. With one hand on his hip, he raked the other through his hair, repeating, “Oh, Jesus. That’s not better.”
Oh shit. So maybe Heath didn’t share my excitement about us having made a baby in love. I guessed it was pretty quick for us to be starting a family. And I had just killed my husband after having been kidnapped.
Okay, so it was definitely bad timing.
“With my history…it’s probably nothing.”
He stopped and blinked at me. “Probably nothing?”
“I just mean, I’ve never gotten pregnant without medical intervention. Maybe the tests were wrong.”
He cocked his head to the side. “Tests? How many did you take?”
“Well, they came in a two-pack. So….” I bit my lip and squeaked around it, “two.”
He gripped the back of his neck.
And, just as I decided to crawl under the blankets and never show my face again, he boomed, “That motherfucker. Took my woman while she was pregnant with my baby!”
Alex came barreling in the room. “Everything good?” he asked, surveying the otherwise empty room.
Heath stormed past him and out the door. “Yep. I’m just about to light a body from the morgue on fire.”
“Heath, stop!” I scrambled after him. “Stop him,” I told Alex.
But Heath was gone.
I’d barely made it to the door when he reappeared, his arm around the bicep of the same frightened doctor.
“Tell me if my baby’s okay,” he ordered at the doctor as if he had ultrasonic vision.
“You’re pregnant?” the doctor asked, snatching his pencil-thin arm from Heath’s grasp.
“I’m so sorry,” I apologized to him before turning to scowl at Heath. “You have to calm down. My nerves cannot take this.”
“You can forget about calm. You’re carrying my baby. That ship has officially sailed,” he smarted back.
“You get back in bed while I grab an ultrasound cart.” That order had come from the doctor.
I apparently didn’t obey fast enough, because Heath started herding me to the bed.
Grabbing a chair from the corner and dragging it over, he ordered, “Pull your dress up.”
“It’s not a dress. It’s a hospital gown, Heath,” I snapped because, really, my nerves were shot.
I was beyond frustrated. However, it all melted away as I felt his hand land on my stomach. His touch was gentle but his finger flexed, biting into my flesh.
“Oh, Jesus,” he whispered.
Only then did I notice the tiniest tremble of his hand.
“Talk to me,” I urged, covering his hand with mine.