Bonds of Hope

by Lynda Aicher

  The frown was back and he pressed his palm to her forehead. “Are you sick?”

  “No. Not exactly.” Although she might be soon if the way her stomach was rolling and hitching was any indication. “He said I’m pregnant.”

  She wanted to close her eyes and hide, but then she would’ve missed the series of emotions that flashed across his face. Shock, doubt, wonder. He looked down at her stomach then back up to meet her eyes. “No way.”

  She bit her lip and nodded, dropping her hand. It was impossible to tell how he felt by that brief statement. “That’s what I said to him. He told me, ‘yes way.’”

  “How?” His eyes were wide as he searched her face.

  Her short, puffed-out breath of sarcasm was almost automatic. “The usual way,” she stated even though she knew that wasn’t want he meant.

  A small curve twitched the corner of his mouth as he shook his head and looked away. He didn’t appear mad, just stunned. The long breath he blew out was followed by a swipe of his hand over his face. The small wave of relief that he wasn’t denying her implied claim of him being the father gave her another bit of hope.

  “Condoms do fail,” she said, the little quiver in her voice giving away her nerves. “Two out of every hundred, according to the doctor.”

  “Wow.” He flopped down beside her so his head was hidden above hers, but his hand drifted down to cover her stomach. That touch said so much more than his words.

  His prolonged silence and the plain white of the ceiling provided the perfect canvas for her fears to grow. The insistent beeping from the machine counted off every second that passed in silence. Outside the door the world continued with the squeaky wheel of a cart passing and the distant murmur of a conversation. Yet inside, it seemed frozen in time.

  “That was my reaction too,” she finally whispered. She wanted so badly to believe it’d be okay, that he would want the baby, but she was afraid to go that far in her thinking.

  With a shaking hand, she pressed her palm over his and waited. The weight and warmth of his touch spread across her abdomen and helped to ease her racing heart. She’d had over half a day to adjust to the idea. She was going to be a mom—if nothing went wrong. He was still catching up, but he hadn’t run. Not yet.

  “Did you know? Before this happened, I mean?” The low, weighted tone of his voice provided no insight into his thoughts.

  “No.” She shook her head but kept her focus on the white tiles above. “We were always safe, except for that last time, which you corrected. The possibility never crossed my mind.” Which was true. She’d stopped tracking her irregular periods long ago.

  “You’re not on birth control?”

  “No. The Pill made me sick.” She swallowed past her embarrassment. “And I wasn’t sexually active enough to motivate me to try other methods. Condoms had always been enough.”

  Another long span of silence passed before the gruff rumble of his throat clearing vibrated against her head. “How far along are you?”

  “Almost seven weeks.” Barely enough time for the ultrasound to detect the tiny heartbeat but it had. “It’s still really early and something could happen,” she rambled. “But he said everything looks okay, as best as they can tell.”

  His hand clenched and relaxed on her stomach before he slowly rubbed it back and forth. “A baby,” he whispered against her temple, his breath fluttering the small hairs. “We’re having a baby.”

  We’re having a baby. “Yeah.” She closed her eyes and absorbed the significance of the statement. Not you, but we’re. Plural. Another spring of tension loosened within her, but not completely. It was only one small step.

  Her remaining fear and doubt had her mumbling the rest. “I understand if you don’t want to be involved.” And she did. It was a sudden and big step into a life they’d never discussed. “But I’m going to keep it. I won’t get an abortion.” Was she ready or prepared to be a mother? No, but she wasn’t running from this responsibility.

  “What the hell?” He pushed up again and cupped her cheek forcing her meet his eyes. “Of course I want to be involved. Shit, Quinn. This is our baby. Yours and mine.” He lowered his hand back to her stomach and spread his fingers until his palm seemed to cover her entire abdomen. “There’s no way I’m letting you go.”

  “Oh...” She blinked back the rush of tears that crowded into her eyes. Those words should’ve been scary, and in some ways they were, but only because it was what she’d been so afraid to hope for. Her inhale was ineffective as the air hitched and stuttered through her dry throat until she gave up and blew it back out in a long release that still held a lingering of doubt. “I was worried.” She tried to keep her voice steady and her hand from shaking as she lifted it to his cheek. She failed on both accounts. “You gave me everything, and I walked away. I’m sorry.” So very, very sorry. “I never wanted to hurt you.”

  He leaned in and kissed her forehead, holding the touch until the tears rolled down her cheeks, the dam broken. “I loved you, Quinn. I still do.”

  “How?” she croaked.

  He pulled back enough to see her face and show the deep emotions that turned his eyes almost black. “How could I not? You were right when you left. I know better now.” With fingers that were slightly unsteady like her own, he brushed away the wetness that had collected under the thin line of the oxygen tube on her cheeks. “I don’t expect you to leave your job and life here. I never really did. There’s...there’s so much we simply didn’t talk about.” He pressed his lips together then continued, determination settling over his features. “We can figure this out. Logistics are an excuse. I’ll move here. Or we can go back and forth when you’re not shooting. Or...something. We’ll make it work. Us work. I promise.”

  “Another promise?”

  “Yes,” he insisted before pressing another long kiss to her lips. It was so firm, sure, that she squeezed her eyes closed and dared to believe. He eased up, stroking her jaw, waiting for her to look at him again. “When are you going to accept that it’s you, Quinn? You that I love? The baby doesn’t change that.”

  Everything inside of her seemed to burst in relief. “Thank you,” she whispered, barely able to get the words out around the emotions that clogged her throat. Finally, finally she let the happiness bloom.

  “We’ll do this, Quinn.” He closed his eyes and in that brief moment she caught a glimpse of his doubt in the quick thinning of his lips and press of his brow. But when he opened his eyes, there was only certainty there. “Trust me.”

  She did. Really. More than anyone. But there were still so many things for them to figure out. All of the issues that had split them apart were still hanging out there, waiting to break them apart again. And the baby only complicated everything more by adding a huge dose of reality filled with responsibility.

  But she hoped, God she really hoped it was enough, because the thought of living without Marcus tore her apart. But she would do it, could do it if she had to.

  She was stronger now than she’d been when she’d first met him. Wiser in ways she wouldn’t be if none of this had happened. She wasn’t going back to who she’d been, but she really wanted him to be a part of who she was becoming.

  So she wet her lips and whispered the truth. “I do. I trust you.”

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Marcus burst out the door, automatically checking for paparazzi. The hospital staff had assured him their grounds were private and well secured, but he wasn’t very trusting. The patio alcove was boxed in on three sides by the brick walls of the hospital and a tall, dense shrub on the last. It appeared secluded, welcoming and blessedly empty.

  He inhaled and let the fresh air sink into his lungs. After the stale antiseptic stench of the hospital, his first deep breath was a huge relief. He fell into a metal chair and let his shoulders sag as he dropped his head back. The sun hit his face and slowly sunk into his skin until the air-conditioned chill of the hospital seeped from his bones.

  The light bre
eze ruffled his hair and brought the fragrant scent of some flower in bloom. It was a far cry from the frozen landscape he’d left yesterday and another reminder of the difference between him and Quinn. It was a gorgeous day that left him comfortable in his T-shirt, but could he really live here? It was two days before Christmas and not a chance of snow in the air.

  What the fuck? Why was he worrying about the stupid weather?

  He scrubbed his hands over his face and through his hair before hunching forward to prop his elbows on his knees. He was going to be a dad. A dad. Shit. Was he ready for that?

  The chuckle that left his mouth was full of mirth. It didn’t matter if he was ready, it was happening. He thumped his clasped hands against his forehead, but it didn’t help to hammer the fact home.

  People talked about life-changing moments and events that permanently alter the course of their lives. Like the sound of the crack and blinding pain in his leg that had ended his football career in the second it took the defensive lineman to tackle him. The words, “I’m pregnant,” changed everything.

  Quinn walking into The Den had changed everything.

  He hadn’t seen her coming, this coming, at all. The blindside hit had him stumbling. But he wouldn’t show her that. She was struggling as much, if not more, than him and he wouldn’t let her down. Not again.

  It was time for him to man up, which meant he would have to make some major changes in his life.

  He tugged his phone from his pocket and pulled up his contacts. He didn’t let himself think before he pressed call and waited for Jake to pick up.

  “Hey,” Jake answered. “How’s it going? Is Quinn okay?”

  For a long second, Marcus couldn’t speak. The steady voice that was filled with honest concern almost did him in. He rubbed his eyes and swallowed twice before he could speak. “Hey, Jake.”

  “Marcus?”

  The silence extended, but words weren’t coming to him now that he had the man on the phone. Where did he start? What did he want to say?

  “Hey, what’s wrong? You’re worrying me.”

  The truth in his voice prompted Marcus to speak. “Sorry. I...sorry.” He inhaled and dug down for the strength he needed. “She’s okay. Now.” He briefly retold the details of her accident, including the risk of infection from aspirating vomit into her lungs.

  “Shit. What the fuck were they thinking? Who in the fucking hell let that happen?”

  Jake’s venom at the events went a little way in helping to release the residual anger that still burned in Marcus. “Yeah. I asked the same thing.”

  “Damn.” Jake’s sigh came through the line. “What are you going to do?”

  Marcus puffed out a breath and laid it all out. “She’s pregnant.”

  The long silence that followed said it all. It was exactly what he’d expected and honestly, had felt himself. What the fuck did a man say to another at those words? Congratulations? Shit? Sorry? All of them could be right depending on the situation. In this case—any were feasible.

  “Okay.” There was nothing in Jake’s tone that hinted at what he was thinking.

  “Yeah.”

  “What do you need?”

  God, if he knew the answer to that question, then he wouldn’t be sitting out here, scrambling for his next move. “Time.” That was the only definite that he had. “We need some time to figure this out. I was hoping to stay for a bit if you guys are okay with it.”

  “Shit. Yes. Not a question. I’ll work it out with the others. It’s always slower here until New Year’s Eve anyway.”

  He hadn’t really thought that Jake would say no, but the support eased another knot in his shoulders. “Thanks. I’ll call when I know more.”

  “You do that.”

  “Thanks.” He’d already said that, but he didn’t have any other words.

  “Hey.” Jake paused, the static crackling for a second before the signal cleared. “You’ll figure it out.”

  Marcus laughed, the sound too self-deprecating to be mistaken for joy. “I hope you’re right.”

  “I am.” The cocky confidence had returned to Jake’s voice, and Marcus smiled at the needed familiarity. “Let us know what we can do. We’ve got your back, whatever you decide.”

  Damn, he’d needed that too. “Thanks.”

  He hung up and sat back. He should be getting back so he was there when Quinn woke up. He glanced around before taking a quick whiff of his pit. Damn, a shower would be nice. He scratched his cheek. And a shave. But those things could wait. Taking care of Quinn was his top priority now.

  He thrust to his feet, tucking his phone in his pocket as he did. He’d call his mom later when he had more details. He couldn’t even guess what his parents’ reaction would be to his latest news, but he felt blessed knowing they’d be there for him no matter how much he disappointed them.

  That was the kind of parent he wanted to be. The kind of man he would be for Quinn and their baby.

  * * *

  Quinn opened her eyes when she heard the door open. The nurse had been in to check on her a few minutes ago and had finally turned the volume off on the insistent beeping machine. She’d also removed the oxygen line from her nose and given her some antibiotics that the doctor had prescribed.

  “How are you feeling?” Her mother’s voice was softer than usual. Concern was etched around her eyes and the thin line of her mouth. The worry deepened the small wrinkles at the corner of her eyes that makeup couldn’t hide.

  “Better.”

  Despite all of the ups and downs of their relationship, her mother’s presence still soothed her. Her mother wasn’t perfect, but then, neither was she. In the weeks since their talk, they’d both been working to find a new balance between them.

  Her mother brought her arm up, the sleeve of her light green jacket hitching back so she could check her watch. “Did I miss the doctor this morning?”

  “Yeah. He was in earlier.”

  She winced. “Sorry. I was on the phone with Jewels and Martin.” She reached out to run her fingers over Quinn’s brow in a calming motion and that went back to Quinn’s childhood. Add in the consistent scent of her perfume and Quinn’s smile was automatic. “The studio is obviously trying to keep this quiet, but the other two want to spin it for more leverage.” She stilled then finally met Quinn’s eyes. “I told them to do nothing right now. What do you want to do?”

  Quinn found her mother’s hand and squeezed it. “Thank you for asking.”

  “It’s your life. You were right about that.” Mary gave a weak smile. “I’m trying, Quinn. The nasty stage mom image isn’t my best side.” She blinked rapidly before wiping a finger under her eye. “You almost died...” Her voice trailed off with her soft sniff.

  “I’m fine,” she said, putting strength in her voice for reassurance. The fact that her mother was finally calling her Quinn without hesitating was a huge step forward. “It was an accident, but I’m okay.”

  “I know.” Mary grabbed a tissue and dabbed at her eyes. “Thank God for that.”

  “I’m not going back. Not to that set.” Quinn waited for a reaction but got none so she pushed on. “I’ll talk to my lawyer about getting out of the contract. I doubt the studio will fight me on it after this.”

  “Good.” Her mother nodded, her hair bobbing softly against her chin. “I think that’s a good idea. That set isn’t safe.”

  “It’s more than that, Mom.” Quinn took a deep breath only to wince at the twinge of pain. “The role isn’t for me. It’s not what I want to do or where I want my career to go.” The tightness in her shoulders eased after saying that. “I don’t want this spun in any direction either. I’m with the studio on letting it go as a minor set accident.”

  Her mother was silent for a moment before she gave a nod. “Okay. I’ll tell them.”

  “No. I’ll tell them.” Another breath. “I’m also going to fire both of them. A publicist and manager are supposed to be looking out for my best interest. I don’t feel l
ike they are. Not anymore.” Simply saying the words aloud made her feel stronger. This was her decision and she would do it. It was empowering, and she had Marcus to thank for showing her that.

  Mary lowered herself into the chair beside the bed. She looked around then set her purse on the floor before staring at her manicured nails. “I understand, Quinn. I really do. And I’m trying to step back.” She looked up. “But do you understand where I’m at? I’ve spent twenty years focused on you. You are my job. My career. What am I supposed to do now?”

  The lost expression that tugged her mouth down was one Quinn had never seen before. This was a big change for her mother and she couldn’t expect her to magically morph into a different person overnight.

  “Be my mother.” She reached her hand through the metal guard rail and waited for her mother to clasp it. “And enjoy your retirement.”

  “And what are you going to do?”

  Wasn’t that a loaded question? “I don’t know exactly. I’m going to take a break and figure that out.” She hadn’t discussed the details with Marcus yet, which brought up the next subject. “There’s something else I have to tell you.”

  Her mother let go of her hand and sat back, a mix of resignation and determination on her face. She tugged the hem of her shirt down and gave a sharp nod. “All right. Dump it on me.”

  Quinn smiled. There was her mom, facing the crap head on. She could really learn something from her. “I’m pregnant.”

  “What?” There was no disguising the shock in her open-mouth, wide-eyed exclamation. “How? When? Who? What were you thinking to let this happen?” The familiar barrage of questions was interrupted by Marcus entering the room. Her mother was on her feet in a second, her thin body blocking Quinn from the intruder. “Who are you? This is a private room. Please leave.”

  “Mom,” Quinn said, sitting up. She put a hand on her mother’s arm and squeezed. “It’s okay. That’s Marcus. I want him here.”

  Her mother spun around then swiveled her head between the two of them. “That’s Marcus? The man you asked Jewels to call?”