скачать книгу бесплатно
* * *
Hutch cursed when Simone went milk pale and keeled over. He caught her before she hit the floor, but just barely. Hell, he knew better. It wasn’t the kind of news one delivered with a baseball bat. As usual, though, she rattled him. Even now.
Cradling her in his arms, he turned back to the exam table. His instinct was to hold her until she woke up. But that was all kinds of unethical. Instead, he laid her gently on her back and reached into the cabinet for a soft, mesh-weave blanket. Covering her all the way up to her neck, he tried not to notice the way she smelled. He could have identified her scent with his eyes closed. A mix of floral and spicy that was uniquely Simone.
She roused slowly, those incredibly long lashes fluttering as she came back to him. “What happened?”
When she tried to rise up onto her elbows, he put a hand on her shoulder to keep her down. “Give yourself a minute to recover. You’ve had a shock.”
Even befuddled and wrapped in a generic blanket, she was striking. Her blue eyes were electric, somewhere between royal and aquamarine. Her hair made as much of an impact as her eyes. The smooth, silky fall was the black of a raven’s wing...shot through with blue in the sunlight. He tried not to remember what it felt like to wrap his hands in all that thick, glorious hair. At one time, it had reached almost to her waist. The style was shorter now, but still a couple of inches below her shoulders.
Her gaze cleared gradually. “So I wasn’t dreaming.” The words were not really a question.
“No.”
“I want to sit up.”
He helped her, though it was difficult to touch her. She made him feel like a gawky adolescent. That was bloody uncomfortable for a man supposed to be in charge of Royal, Texas’s world-class obstetrics department.
“I apologize for springing it on you, Simone. There’s no easy way to drop that bomb. I have to tell you I’m surprised and concerned that you’ve chosen this option.”
“I’m not getting any younger.” The set of her jaw was mulish.
He remembered all too well what Simone was like when she made up her mind about something. “You’re not even thirty. Couldn’t you have waited and taken the traditional route?” he asked.
The wash of color that had returned to her face leached away again. Her eyes glittered with something that might have been pain or anger. “I tried that once or twice. I’m not a fan. Men complicate things.”
The blunt retort was a direct shot at him. It found its mark. Clearly, Simone still blamed him for their breakup. He wanted to fight back, but it was pointless after all this time. His job wasn’t to be her friend, or even her boyfriend. He was charged with overseeing her medical care.
“I suppose it’s a moot point now,” he said, feeling weary and discouraged. “Unless you’ve changed your mind. Do you want to terminate the pregnancy? If that’s your decision, hospital staff would of course preserve your privacy.”
Simone blinked. “Is that what you think I should do?”
He weighed his words carefully. “Having triplets is an enormous commitment, even for a two-parent family. You would be doing this alone.”
She stared at him. Her restless fingers pleated the edges of the blanket. “I want these babies.”
He cocked his head, trying to read her emotions. “You wanted one baby, Simone. I think you need to weigh the situation seriously. While it’s still very early.”
“There’s nothing to consider. I made a choice. I have to live with the consequences.”
“For the rest of your life.”
Hot color streaked her cheekbones. “I know you think I’m flighty and impulsive and a lightweight. What you don’t realize is that I’ve grown up a lot in the time you’ve been gone. I can do this.”
“But why?” That’s what confused him. It wasn’t as if she was running out of time. Besides, she had never particularly struck him as the maternal type.
“My reasons are my business, Dr. Hutchinson. Am I free to go now?”
There were secrets in her eyes and in her heart. He knew it. The two of them might have been separated by time and distance for the past few years, but there had been a moment when he had known everything about her. Every thought. Every feeling. Every beat of her energetic, enthusiastic, passionate heart.
The Simone he knew jumped into life with both feet, usually via the deep end. She had her naysayers—Royal was a relatively small town with a long memory. Her youthful missteps had cost her. A reputation was a hard thing to shake. But he knew she had a good heart.
“Just hear me out. You should know, Simone, that a multiple pregnancy immediately puts you in the high-risk category. The hospital hired me for my expertise. I’ll be overseeing your case indirectly. Dr. Fetter will alert me if any problems arise. Will that be a problem?”
Simone blinked. “Do you have any crackers?”
“Excuse me?” Had his hearing taken a hit in Sudan?
“I need saltines. I’m about to puke.”
Oh, lord. “Hold on,” he said. Opening the door to the hallway, he bellowed for a nurse. The poor woman must have sprinted, because she was back in two minutes with the crackers and a cup of ice chips.
He took them with muttered thanks, closed the door firmly and turned to Simone. She wasn’t white anymore. More like a transparent shade of green. Grabbing a plastic basin from the cabinet, he put it in her lap and unwrapped the crackers. “Slowly,” he said.
“Don’t worry,” she muttered. “I’m afraid to move.”
“Poor baby.” He’d seen pregnant women almost every day of his professional life, but none had ever touched him as deeply as this one. Without overthinking it, he put an arm behind her back to support her. “I’ll hold the cracker,” he said. “You nibble.”
It was a measure of how miserable she was that she didn’t fight him. No snappy comeback. No insistence she could feed herself. When she leaned into him, his heart actually skipped a beat. A huge neon sign flashed in his brain. Warning! Warning!
Even though he knew he couldn’t get close to her again, his body betrayed him. She was so familiar, so delightfully feminine. Every caveman instinct he possessed told him to fight for her, to protect her. Women were tough, far tougher than men at times. Still, this Simone who had come to him today was at a low spot. He wanted to make it all right for her.
Yet he was the last person she needed. He’d suffered too much heartache, witnessed too much heartbreak to offer Simone anything resembling the love they had once shared.
She managed the first cracker and started on the second. In between bites, he offered the ice chips. Four crackers in each pack, eight in all. Eventually, she finished them.
“Thank you,” she said. “I’m okay now.”
It was patently untrue, but he took her words at face value. He handed her what was left of the cup of ice. “I have other patients to see,” he said, wondering why the thought of leaving this room was so unappealing.
“I know,” she said. “Go. I’m fine. I’m glad you didn’t die in Africa.”
He chuckled. “Is that all you have to say?”
“I don’t want to add to your ego. I won’t be surprised if the town makes you the patron saint of Royal. Saint Hutch. It has a ring to it, don’t you think?”
“You’re such a brat.”
“Some things never change.” Her teeth dug into her bottom lip.
Gradually, her color was returning to normal. The doctor in him approved. “That’s not true, Simone. Neither of us is who we were five years ago. I know I’m not.”
She tucked a wayward strand of hair behind her ear. “Is that a polite warning? You’re telling me not to get any ideas?” Her sidelong glance held a touch of wry mischief.
Even now, she had the power to shock him. While he’d been willing to dance around their painful past, Simone plunged right into the murky depths. Maybe she knew him better than he realized.
“I wasn’t, but I probably should have.”
“You’re not my doctor.”
“No. Not technically.” He paused, weighing his words. “Perhaps this is presumptuous on my part, but you opened this can of worms. I knew we would see each other again, Simone. It was inevitable if I came home. But...”
“But you’ve moved on.”
“Yes. I have.” He didn’t tell her the rest. He couldn’t.
Simone nodded. “I understand, Hutch. I think it’s obvious I have my hands full, too. Maybe we can be friends, though.”
“Maybe.” He let the lie roll off his lips. As much as he wanted to help her, he couldn’t get close. Not again. “Are you okay now? The nausea’s better?”
She handed him the basin. “False alarm. You’re good at this. Maybe you should be a doctor.”
His smile was genuine. Simone had always been able to make him laugh, even when he took himself too seriously. He reached in his pocket for a business card and scrawled his cell number on the back. “I need you to promise,” he said, handing it to her.
“Promise what?” She handled the little rectangle as if it were a poisonous snake.
“I want you to promise that you’ll call me immediately if you have any problems.”
“What about Dr. Fetter?”
He shoved his hands in the pockets of his lab coat. “She’s a busy doctor with a lot of patients.”
“And you’re not?”
They stared at each other in silence. “Hell, Simone. You’re not making this easy.”
“I don’t understand you.”
“We share a past. I want to make sure you and these babies are okay.”
“Saint Hutch.”
If that’s what she wanted to think, he might as well let her. It was far better than the truth. “I care about you,” he said quietly. “I mean it. Any hour. Night or day. This isn’t a typical pregnancy. I want to hear you say it.”
She lifted one shoulder in an elegant gesture he remembered well. “Fine. I promise. Are you happy now?”
He hadn’t been happy for a very long time. “It will do. I’ll be in touch, Simone. Take care of yourself.”
Two (#u423052c9-dc69-5a61-b438-242e9f64750d)
After the run-in with Hutch, the actual appointment with Dr. Fetter a week later was anticlimactic. The rules for a multiple pregnancy were pretty much the same as any pregnancy. Take vitamins. Sleep and rest the appropriate amount. Exercise every day. Report any spotting or bleeding.
That last bit was scary. Simone stared at the obstetrician as the woman entered notes on a laptop. “How often does that happen? Bleeding, I mean.”
Dr. Fetter looked up over the top of her glasses. “Ten to twenty percent of all pregnancies end in miscarriage, Simone. With multiples, the risk is higher. Nevertheless, you shouldn’t waste time worrying about it. Your ultrasound looks good, and we’ll monitor you closely, much more so than a typical pregnancy warrants.”
“I see.” It was easy for the doctor to say don’t worry. She wasn’t the one carrying three brand-new lives.
Soon after that sobering conversation, Simone was back outside staring around in a daze at the nicely landscaped grounds of the hospital. Triplets. No matter how many times she repeated the word in her head, it didn’t seem real. She’d had daydreams about pushing a stylish stroller with a tiny infant dressed in pink or blue. It was hard to fathom the reality of taking three babies out on the town.
She sat in her car for the longest time, telling herself everything was going to be okay. Her initial motives in getting pregnant had been less than pure. Was the universe punishing her for playing around with motherhood?
Despite evidence to the contrary, she was stunned to realize that she wanted these babies desperately. Not one of them, or two...but all three. Placing her palm flat on her abdomen, she tried to imagine what she was going to look like in a few months. With triplets, she could be huge.
Oddly, the thought wasn’t as alarming as it should have been. For a woman who wore haute couture as a matter of course and worked hard to keep her body in shape, the fact that she was able to imagine herself as big as a blimp without hyperventilating showed personal growth.
At least that’s what she told herself.
It was getting late. She was supposed to be at Naomi’s condo in less than an hour. Naomi and Cecelia were making their signature jalapeño and shredded beef pizza. Normally, Simone gobbled down at least three pieces. How was she going to make it through the evening when the thought of food made her want to barf?
As she drove to the other side of town, she practiced what she was going to say. By the way, I haven’t had sex in months, but I’m pregnant with triplets. Or how about I ran into Hutch last week. I don’t think I ever got over him.
Already she was reconsidering her decision to keep Naomi and Cecelia in the dark. This was too hard to do alone. She needed someone to talk to...someone who would have her back. If she couldn’t confide in her two best friends, she couldn’t confide in anybody. Naomi and Cecelia had been her closest companions and confidantes since grade school. Still, she wasn’t ready to spill all her secrets at once. She needed time to wrap her head around things. It was happening too fast.
As Simone entered her code on a keypad and rolled through the elegant gate, she noted the perfectly manicured grounds of the luxury condo complex. Naomi’s privacy was protected here. Naomi Price was famous in Royal for any number of reasons. Her cable television show had been picked up nationally, so now she was dispensing style advice to women—and men—coast to coast.
Simone parked and walked up the path. When she rang the buzzer, Cecelia answered the door. “It’s about time. Where have you been?”
Clearly, the question was rhetorical, because Cecelia disappeared into the kitchen, leaving Simone to put a hand over her mouth and gag at the smell of cooking meat. Oh, lordy. She fished a water bottle from the depths of her leather tote and took a cautious sip. If she wasn’t ready to talk about the babies, she had to get her stomach under control. Otherwise, her secret wasn’t going to be a secret for very long.
Gingerly, she rounded the corner and entered the kitchen. The room wasn’t huge, but it was as stylish as the woman who hovered over the stove. Naomi had brown eyes and long copper-brown hair. She was charming and extremely pretty, but Simone knew her friend didn’t understand how beautiful she was.
Cecelia, on the other hand, had bombshell looks and knew how to use them. Her platinum hair and long legs drew men in droves. Her company, To the Moon, produced high-end children’s merchandise but had recently branched out to the adult furniture realm with the launch of Luna Fine Furnishings. Simone and her ad agency were currently producing a hard-hitting campaign designed to take Cecelia’s company to the next level.
The other two women barely said hello at first. They were squabbling over the correct ratio of peppers to meat. At last, Naomi looked up. “Hey, hon. What’s the matter with you? I’ve seen ghosts with more color.”
That was the thing about good friends. They didn’t sugarcoat things. “Just an upset stomach,” Simone said. “I think I ate too much at lunch.” Fortunately, meal prep took precedence and no one called her on the lie.
Normally, Simone would have offered to help, but right now she stayed as far away from the food as possible. When the large pizza was in the oven, the three women adjourned to the living room. Simone envied Naomi’s innate sense of style. Her home was stunning but extremely comfortable.
Simone claimed a comfy chair and sat down gingerly. She’d always heard about morning sickness, but she had never imagined how wretched it could be. Tucking her legs beneath her, she tried to get comfortable.
Cecelia, on the other hand, hovered by the window. She was always a high-energy person. Today she practically vibrated with excitement.
Naomi took a sip of her Chardonnay and waved a hand. “What’s up, Cecelia? You said we had to wait for Simone. She’s here now. Don’t keep us in suspense.”
The tall blonde spun around, fumbled in her pocket and held out her hand. “Deacon proposed! And I’m pregnant.”
After that dual announcement, much squealing ensued. Simone and Naomi hugged their friend and admired the ring. Deacon Chase was quite a catch. He’d lived in Europe for a decade, but had returned to Royal and purchased a beautiful country lodge on the outskirts of town. The gorgeous, self-made billionaire hotelier had confidence and charisma and a dimpled smile that broke hearts everywhere. As far as Simone was concerned, he was one of the few men alive who could handle Cecelia and not be intimidated by her looks and personality.
Clearly, now was not the time for Simone to share her own news. For one, she didn’t want to steal Cecelia’s thunder.
When the furor died down, they adjourned to the kitchen and dug into the freshly baked pizza. Simone’s stomach cooperated enough for her to get down most of one piece, though she surreptitiously removed the jalapeños and wrapped them in a paper napkin. No point in tempting fate.
“So who’s your doctor?” Simone asked. Please don’t let it be Hutch.
“I’m seeing Janine Fetter. She’s not real chatty or friendly, but I don’t need that in a doctor. I want someone I can trust to take care of me and my baby. Dr. Fetter fits the bill.”
