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  Justin had been angry with Nora when she’d shown up, unexpected and unannounced, at their traditional Father’s Day barbecue the previous year, demanding to see the father she’d never known. And then he’d been angry with his father for what he’d done to their family. But now he could also feel some regret and remorse for him.

  John Garrett had missed out on the first twenty-four years of Nora’s life because Fiona had chosen not to tell him about their daughter. He and Avery had fought their share of battles—and would inevitably fight many more—but she hadn’t hidden her pregnancy from him and he was confident that she wouldn’t ever try to cut him out of their child’s life.

  He was sincerely grateful for that, but it wasn’t enough. He wanted more. He wanted to share all of the joys and responsibilities of parenthood with the mother of his child—the woman he loved.

  * * *

  Just when Avery was starting to feel confident that she’d successfully made it through the first trimester of her pregnancy, she went to the bathroom and discovered that she was bleeding. When she saw the bright red blood, panic rose up inside and her heart dropped into the pit of her stomach. She immediately called her doctor’s office, only to learn that Richard Herschel was on holidays until the following week.

  “If this is an emergency, please hang up and dial 9-1-1,” the recorded voice advised.

  Avery hung up and drove herself to Wellbrook instead.

  “You’re not on the schedule today,” Amy said, when she walked in through the staff entrance at the back of the building.

  “I know.”

  “So what are you doing here?”

  “I’m—” She blinked back the tears that filled her eyes. “I’m afraid I might be having a miscarriage.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  Amy immediately hustled Avery into an exam room and helped her up onto the table. “Why didn’t you go to the hospital?”

  “Because I haven’t told anyone there that I’m pregnant and I didn’t want them to find out this way.”

  “Did you call Dr. Herschel?”

  She nodded. “He’s on vacation until next week.”

  “Then I guess we’re going to do an exam here,” Amy agreed. “Tell me what’s going on.”

  “I’m...I was bleeding.”

  “How much?”

  “Not a lot,” she admitted. “But more than what I would consider light.”

  “But it’s stopped?” Amy prompted, picking up on her use of the past tense.

  Avery nodded.

  “How far along are you now?”

  “Almost fifteen weeks.”

  “How do you feel?”

  “Scared.”

  “I know,” her friend said gently. “I meant physically. Any pain or cramping?”

  “I don’t think so,” she admitted. “But maybe I’m blocking it out because I don’t want to admit what either of those symptoms could mean.”

  “Okay. I’ll get Monica to bring in the sonogram machine.”

  Avery nodded, because she wasn’t sure she could say anything else through the tightness in her throat. While she waited for the nurse to come, she checked her cell phone for messages, but there were none.

  She’d tried to reach Justin before she went to the clinic, but her call had immediately gone to voice mail. So she’d left a message, trying to keep her voice steady and calm as she explained that she was going to the clinic, and asking him to get in touch when he got her message. Obviously he hadn’t received it yet.

  After the ultrasound and a quick exam, Amy seemed much less concerned. “The bleeding has stopped and everything looks fine,” she said. “Your placenta is in good position and your cervix is closed. The baby’s heartbeat is strong and steady and he—or she—is very active, so there’s no immediate cause for concern.”

  Avery exhaled a shaky sigh.

  “But we don’t know what caused the bleeding,” Amy reminded her. “And although we have no reason to suspect it will happen again, if you want to do everything possible to ensure that it doesn’t, you’re going to have to focus on taking care of yourself for the next several days.”

  She understood what her friend was saying. It was the same advice she would give to any of her own patients, but those patients were the reason she felt compelled to protest. “But I have responsibilities—”

  “No,” Amy interjected firmly. “You’re a fabulous doctor, but you’re not indispensable. Your shifts at the hospital can be covered, your shifts here can be covered. But no one else can do what you need to do to take care of your baby.”

  She nodded. “Okay.”

  Amy’s gaze narrowed. “Really okay? You’re not just pretending to go along with what I’m saying?”

  “I won’t do anything to jeopardize my pregnancy,” she assured her friend, laying a protective hand on the slight swell of her belly.

  “Good. Then I only have one more thing to say.”

  “What’s that?”

  “You should call—”

  Before she could finish, there was a brisk knock on the door. Frowning, Amy went to open it. Of course, Avery couldn’t see who was on the other side, but she immediately recognized Justin’s voice when he said, “The receptionist told me that Avery was in here.”

  “She is,” Amy confirmed. “We just need another two minutes.”

  “I want to see her—”

  “Two minutes,” Amy said firmly again, closing the door with him on the other side.

  Then she turned to face her friend, her expression contemplative. “I was going to suggest that you call Justin, but apparently you already did.”

  “Of course, I did,” Avery said. “This is his baby, too.”

  “I know that,” Amy acknowledged. “But you don’t ask for help from anyone. Ever. You don’t lean on anyone. Ever.”

  “Why are you making such a big deal out of a phone call?”

  “Because it is a big deal. Because it proves that you’re actually opening up to Justin, letting him into your life.”

  “It’s not like he’s really given me much choice.”

  Amy smiled at that. “Knowing Justin, I’m sure that’s true. And I’m proud of you, anyway.”

  “It was just a phone call,” Avery said again.

  “And he came over here as soon as he got your message,” Amy pointed out to her.

  “So it would seem,” she agreed.

  “Because he’s the type of person who will be there for you—whatever you need.”

  Before Avery could respond to that, Amy opened the door and gestured for Justin to come in. He immediately crossed the room to her and took both of her hands in his. “Are you okay?”

  “I’m okay, and the baby’s okay,” she told him.

  He turned to look at Amy, as if for confirmation.

  She nodded. “The bleeding’s stopped and the baby’s vital signs are all good. But I want Avery to stay off her feet for a few days and to follow up with Dr. Herschel early next week when he gets back into the office.”

  “Has she agreed to stay off her feet?” he asked.

  “She has, but I’d feel better if she had someone to stay with her and look after her.”

  “She doesn’t appreciate being spoken about as if she’s not in the room,” Avery interjected. “And she’s perfectly capable of looking after herself.”

  Justin shifted his attention back to her, and she could see the worry etched in his face. “I know you are,” he admitted. “But I’d feel a lot better if you let me take care of you.”

  “Why?”

  “Because it’s the only thing I can do while our baby is growing inside of you.”

  “It’s not necessary,” Avery said again.

  “Please.”

  She sighed, because she couldn’t resist the plea that was in his eyes as much as the word. On the way to his condo, they made a brief stop at her apartment so that she could pack a few things in a bag.

  “Are you hungry?” he asked, after settling her on h
is sofa.

  “Starving,” she admitted.

  “I could heat up a can of chicken soup.”

  She made a face. “I’m not sick—I’m pregnant.”

  “So tell me what you want.”

  “A cheeseburger? From Eli’s?” she said hopefully.

  “I can get you a cheeseburger,” he agreed. “Do you want fries, too?”

  She shook her head. “Onion rings.”

  “Anything else?”

  “Extra pickles on the burger but no onions.”

  He looked at her quizzically. “You want onion rings but no onions on the burger?”

  “I don’t like raw onions.”

  “Maybe I should write this down.” He found a notepad in the kitchen and wrote down her order. “Anything else?”

  She shook her head.

  “Are you comfy there?” he asked her.

  “Why?”

  “Because I don’t want you moving until I get back,” he told her. “If the phone rings, ignore it. If someone comes to the door, ignore that, too.”

  She should have been annoyed by his bossiness but the truth was, she was touched that he was so determined to take care of her and their baby.

  He was back within twenty minutes, with two cheeseburgers, two orders of onion rings and two chocolate shakes.

  “This one meal probably contains more calories than I should be consuming in three days—especially since you won’t even let me walk across the room,” Avery said, unwrapping her burger.

  “I’ll make a salad for you for supper,” he promised.

  “The baby says thank-you, too,” she told him. “Especially for the shake—apparently she has quite the sweet tooth.”

  “She?” he queried.

  Avery shook her head as she chewed, then swallowed. “I don’t know. I just don’t want to refer to our baby as ‘it’ and most people automatically invoke the masculine pronoun, so I decided to go with ‘she.’”

  He smiled. “Why doesn’t that surprise me?”

  “Are you okay with ‘she’?”

  “Sure,” he agreed, popping a crisp onion ring into his mouth. “The pronoun works just fine, and I think it would be fun to have a daughter.”

  “I thought most men wanted sons, as a testament to their masculinity.”

  “Doesn’t the fact that I got you pregnant prove my masculinity?”

  “I guess it does,” she agreed, and took another bite of her burger.

  “And truthfully, the sex of the baby doesn’t matter to me. All that matters is that both you and ‘she’ are taken care of.”

  She smiled at his use of the feminine pronoun. “It’s strange,” she admitted. “I’ve known you for three and a half years but over the past couple of months, I’ve realized that I didn’t really know you at all.”

  “Maybe because you didn’t want to know me.”

  She nodded. “Because I was so sure I knew your type. And because I knew your type, I was sure you wouldn’t want to have anything to do with a baby conceived in a reckless and impulsive moment of passion.”

  “I guess I can’t really blame you for believing that. I’ve done everything possible to live up to my reputation.”

  “And people—myself included—often see what they expect to see. Until a couple of weeks ago, when I saw something at the hospital that made me revisit some of my assumptions.” She picked up her cup and took a long sip of her milkshake.

  “What was that?” he asked a little warily.

  “You were with an elderly gentleman, sitting on those horrible plastic chairs outside of the ER, and he was crying.”

  “Mr. Ormond,” Justin said. “He’d just lost his wife of sixty-eight years.”

  Anyone could pay lip service to those who were grieving, and often that was all doctors had time for or were capable of doing. Despite recent advances in medicine, doctors still weren’t given much education or practical advice on how to deal with surviving family members after the death of a patient. They were taught the appropriate phrases, but compassion was something else entirely—and often lacking.

  Avery had witnessed Justin offering sincere and heartfelt empathy to an old man who’d desperately needed it. The fact that, more than two weeks later, he remembered not just the man’s name but the reason for his grieving showed her the capacity of his heart and unlocked something inside her own.

  “She was with us for fourteen hours,” Justin told her. “And he sat with her the whole time, holding her hand, brushing her hair, reading aloud to her from a favorite book. That kind of love and devotion, after sixty-eight years, is amazing. And humbling.”

  “Sixty-eight years,” she echoed, amazed.

  He nodded. “He had just turned twenty when they got married, and she was a year and a half younger.”

  “You listened to him.”

  “It was a slow night.”

  And maybe it had been, but she knew that wasn’t the reason he’d taken the time. “You’re an incredible man, Dr. Garrett.”

  He just shrugged, obviously uncomfortable with her praise, as he immediately proved by shifting the topic of conversation. “Does that mean I get to choose what we watch on TV tonight?”

  She polished off her burger, then crumpled up the wrapper and tossed it into the take-out bag. “That depends on what your choice would be,” she said.

  Of course, they argued about what to watch. There was a classic Clint Eastwood Western that he wanted to see; she was more interested in a Sandra Bullock rom-com. In the end, she let him have his way and the movie did hold her attention—at least for a while.

  She woke up when Justin carried her to the bedroom.

  “I didn’t get to see the end,” she protested.

  He sat her down on the bed and rummaged through the duffel bag she’d packed. “I TiVo’d it so that you can watch it tomorrow.”

  She looked around, as if trying to get her bearings. “This looks like it’s your bedroom.”

  “Because it is.”

  “I can’t sleep in your bed.”

  “It’s the only one I’ve got,” he told her. “Unless you want to sleep on the sofa—and I’m not letting you sleep on the sofa.”

  “You’re going to sleep on the sofa?”

  He shook his head. “It’s a king-size, which is bigger than the bed we shared in Atlanta.”

  She wished that he hadn’t mentioned Atlanta, because now they were both thinking about that bed—and the things they’d done in it. And suddenly the air was snapping and crackling with sexual tension.

  He started to unbutton her shirt; she slapped his hand away. “What are you doing?”

  “Helping you get ready for bed.”

  “I can manage.”

  “I think I can get you undressed without succumbing to my baser instincts.” But his movements slowed when he pushed her shirt away, and he lowered his head to kiss her bare shoulder. Then his lips moved lower, trailing kisses down to the curve of her breast, above the scalloped edging of her bra.

  “You said you wouldn’t succumb to your baser instincts,” she reminded him, a little breathlessly.

  “Apparently I lied.” He brushed his mouth over her nipple, through the lacy fabric, and she gasped as little darts of pleasure arrowed through her veins.

  “We can’t do this, Justin.”

  “I know.” He drew in a long, deep breath, then released it.

  When he reached for her again, his movements were brisk and efficient. He unhooked her bra, slid the straps down her arms and quickly tugged her pajama top over her head. The only signs that he wasn’t as unaffected as he appeared were the ticking of a muscle in his jaw and the heat in his gaze when it met hers.

  “Lie down so I can take off your pants.”

  “Usually a guy has to buy me dinner before he gets into my pants,” she said, attempting to lighten the mood.

  “I did buy you dinner,” he reminded her. “And dessert.”

  “So you did.” She leaned back on her elbows and lift
ed her hips off the mattress so he could slide her pants down her legs. Then he reversed the process with her pajama bottoms.

  “Are you really going to hang out here for the next few days babysitting me?”

  “Why not? I happen to like your company.”

  “Do you realize that you’ve spent every weekend that you haven’t been working, for the past eight weeks, with me?”

  “I wasn’t actually keeping track,” he told her. “Why—are you growing bored with me?”

  “No, I just—” She changed her mind about what she was going to say and shook her head. “No.”

  “You figured I would be growing bored with you,” he guessed.

  She shrugged. “Even when I was younger—and not pregnant—I was never the life of the party.”

  “Well, despite your advanced age and cumbersome condition,” he teased, “I happen to like the life we’re building together.”

  “You don’t want to build anything with me,” she warned. “I can’t hammer a nail in straight.”

  “That’s okay—I can.” And then, because he knew that wasn’t really what she was worried about, Justin took both of her hands in his. “I’m not going to leave you. I’m not going to abandon you or our baby, not ever. I promise you that.”

  She shook her head. “You can’t make that kind of promise.”

  “Yes, I can,” he insisted. “Because I love you.”

  Avery shook her head, and the tears that filled her eyes slashed at his heart like shards of glass.

  He forced himself to stay where he was, to let her see the truth of his feelings—even if it was a truth she wasn’t ready to admit. He hadn’t really expected that she would say the words back to him. Maybe he’d hoped, but he knew that it would take her time to process what he’d said, and longer still to believe he meant it.

  He blamed her parents for that. From the little that she’d told him, and the little bit more he’d managed to glean through his conversation with her brother and meeting her father, not only had her parents been too preoccupied with their own lives to ensure their children knew they were loved, they’d also made them feel as if their love and attention had to be earned. If Avery got good marks at school, her father would take her out for ice cream. If she promised to be quiet while mommy was working in her office at home, she might be allowed to do her homework on the opposite side of the big desk.