“They didn’t mean to get pregnant with me, actually. After my mom’s last miscarriage, they’d planned to let him finish school and get a job—save up and all that—but it didn’t happen that way. Anyway, dad had a few jobs to make ends meet, and after I was born and a few years old, he ended up getting a professor position at the University of Chicago, which was his dream.”
“Teaching linguistics?”
He nods, taking a sip of his coffee. “Yeah. But then my mom got into a horrible car accident in which she almost died.”
“Oh God,” my hand goes to my chest. “I had no idea.”
“Dad was obviously beside himself, basically being a single dad to a toddler at this point—teaching and trying to be at the hospital as much as possible. My mom broke several major bones, including her pelvis. Several of her organs were also lacerated, including her uterus, which is why I’m an only child.”
I choke down the huge lump in my throat. I’m just imagining what it would be like to see my own mom go through that, and it has me almost in tears at the thought.
“Is that why you became a doctor? Because you wanted to save people?”
He nods his head slowly as if he’s contemplating his response. “I think so. I knew from a really young age that I wanted to go into medicine, and honestly, that desire never wavered. Even though my dad had a good job and health insurance, the medical bills were astronomical, and because he insisted on getting her the best care and rehabilitation services, they only continued to compound. My dad made good money, but we never lived like it because we were so in debt from the accident.”
“Could you have sued? I know that’s not always the answer, but at least to cover medical expenses?”
“No, she hit black ice in Chicago and went over one of the bridges, so no one was technically at fault. We lived very conservatively, because he didn’t want to leave either of us with any debt from that accident. When he passed, his life insurance covered the remaining balance and even left a nice nest egg for my mom to live off of. She paid off that townhome and she gets his retirement and social security.”
He takes a deep breath before continuing and I squeeze his hand in support.
“Anyway, my dad got offered the chair of the linguistics department here in Denver just before my 10th birthday, so he accepted and we moved out here and the rest is history. We spent so much time camping, hiking, fishing, hunting—you name it—in these Rocky Mountains. Dad’s favorite thing to do was to go moose and elk spotting in the fall in Telluride.”
Tears sit on the brim of his eyes but they never fall. He chuckles, shaking his head.
“What?”
“He always taught me something new on those trips. Sometimes it was about a moose we’d see or a tree or different river currents. I swear, that man was a walking textbook. He lived and breathed knowledge and learning.”
“I bet he was crazy proud of you then.” I smile up at him, resting my hand on his chest.
“Yeah, he was. When he was diagnosed with dementia, it was an immediate death sentence for him.” A crease forms between his brows as he relives something in his head.
“It was like overnight, he was somebody I didn’t know. That was probably the hardest thing: seeing a man who was always so sharp and academically gifted turn into a shell of himself.”
Silence settles between us for a while as we sip our coffee and stare out the window watching one rain droplet run into another on the glass.
“That’s what I want to do,” he says, breaking the silence.
“What?” I’m confused.
“I want to take my kids out, show them all the things my dad showed me. Teach them all the things I still remember from him.”
“I know you’ll be an amazing father just like him.” I lean in and kiss him softly. His eyes fall from mine down to my belly, his hand reaching out to rest against it.
“Speaking of which, did you ever put your birth control back in?”
Panic grips me. “No, actually,” I say, a little shocked at my lack of attentiveness to that detail. “I guess I got so busy with the opening of the studio after the night of the soft launch that I just completely forgot.”
“Have you taken a test?”
I shake my head. “No, I didn’t think about it. My period was all messed up after the miscarriage. I had a few days of spotting here and there.”
He removes my legs from his lap, standing up and reaching a hand down to grab mine.
“Where are we going?” I ask.
“To get a pregnancy test,” he says matter-of-factly.
I pull my hand away, startling him.
“No.”
He looks at me questioningly.
“I’m not . . . ready to know.”
He steps toward me, placing his hands on my shoulders. “Sweetheart, I know you’re scared to go through that again, but you’re not alone and you never will be. I’m here with you through this, okay? If you are pregnant, we need to know so we can be proactive about it this time.”
I nod my head slowly. I know he’s right, but I’m just so scared to get my hopes up again. I put my hand back in his and we walk across the street to the drugstore.
“How many do I need?” I ask, almost to myself.
Grant grabs one of each brand. “Just to be sure,” he says. “Plus if this one isn’t positive, we’ll need backups for the future.”
I raise an eyebrow. “Oh yeah? Still on the ‘getting Leigh knocked up as soon as possible’ train?”
He stares at me then his eyes drop down to my breasts and he narrows his gaze.
“Be a little more obvious.” I pull my jacket closed, but he shoves the tests in my hands as he opens my jacket back up. “What are you doing?” I glance around, making sure we’re alone in the aisle as he cups my breasts.
“They feel fuller. You have any tenderness?” he asks, squeezing them softly as he runs his thumbs over my nipples.
“Uhh, umm . . .” I can’t focus thanks to the sensation shooting between my thighs right now.
“Sorry,” he chuckles, realizing what he’s doing to me before removing his hands from my breasts and taking the tests from my hands.
“I am a doctor, sweetheart. I notice things.”
“Okay, you’re not an obstetrician. Calm down; you can’t sniff out pregnancy,” I whisper as I shove him down the aisle.
We make our way back to Grant’s condo, my mind racing the entire way. He reaches across the console and places his hand firmly on my thigh, my anxiety palpable in the car.
I feel like the echoes of our steps through the parking garage are too loud, and even our breathing in the elevator feels louder than normal. I can feel my pulse racing in my neck.
I rush to grab a glass of water the moment we’re inside, my hand shaking as I bring it to my lips. I look over at Grant, who’s standing on the far edge of the kitchen by the hallway, waiting for me. I walk over to him and he places his hand on my lower back, guiding me toward his room, the bag of tests in his other hand.
“I can handle it, Grant,” I say as he steps inside the bathroom with me.
He ignores me, reaching into the bag and pulling out the pile of tests. He opens one box and removes the two tests before facing me again.
I stare at him, but it’s futile.
“Do you always get your way?” I huff as I pull my jacket off a little harder than necessary. I toss it on the counter before sliding my panties and jeans down my thighs. I sit on the toilet, reaching my hand out for the test.
He hands it to me wordlessly.
“For the record, this is the first and ONLY time I have peed in front of someone.”
He doesn’t take his eyes off me as I uncap the test and slip it between my thighs. I remove the test, placing the cap on and handing it to him. It’s only now I realize how scared he is in this moment as well.
I pull my pants up and wash my hands. He places the test face down on the counter as he sets a timer on his phone.
&nb
sp; Neither of us speaks.
I step into his embrace, burying my face in his chest as he wraps his arms around me tightly. I will myself not to cry. I focus on my breath.
In through the nose.
Out through the mouth.
It feels like an eternity when the alarm bell rings, my heart lurching into my throat.
“Oh my God, I can’t,” I say, shaking my head as I cover my face with my hands. “You do it.”
He stares at me, blinking several times before reaching down and flipping the test over so we both see the screen staring back at us with one single word.
Pregnant.
22
Grant
A Few Months Later . . .
* * *
“You’re teaching again today?”
I can’t hide the concern in my voice as I watch Leigh frantically flit around the kitchen. She grabs a few Tupperware containers from the fridge and shoves them into her lunch bag.
“Of course I’m teaching, Grant. I can’t just stop everything, I have a business to run.”
I take a long sip of my coffee, trying not to let my anxiety get the best of me. She places her bag on the counter and walks over to me. She takes the coffee cup from my hands and sets it on the counter beside me, placing her hands in mine.
“The doctor said everything is okay. The baby is healthy and so am I.”
I stare down at her big round eyes and my heart aches. I don’t know what I would do if she lost this baby. I know it would destroy her this time, and I can’t stomach the thought of seeing her fall apart again.
I squeeze her hands, letting go of them as I wrap my arms around her small body and kiss the top of her head.
“I understand. I just worry about you and the baby.”
“I know. I promise I’m taking all the precautions.” She smiles at me, pushing herself up on her tiptoes to plant a soft kiss on my lips.
One thing I hadn’t expected to kick into overdrive even more was my sex drive. There’s something so visceral about knowing that this woman is carrying my child, and it makes me want to lay claim to her every second of every day.
I reach around her body, cupping her backside through her spandex leggings. I give it a squeeze, pushing her against me.
“Easy, big guy, you already made me late by jumping in the shower with me this morning.”
She hasn’t started showing yet and we decided we aren’t going to tell anyone until her 12-week scans in a few days.
“Can’t help it, you’re too sexy.” I nibble her ear before releasing her. “By the way, the movers will be at your apartment tomorrow. I’m off that day, so no need to worry about being there. I’ll make sure they handle everything with care.”
She smiles at me, shaking her head when she realizes she completely forgot to book them. “I’m sorry, baby, I completely forgot. Thank you for booking them for me. Think I already have a touch of pregnancy brain going on.”
“That’s why I’m here. Now you go teach, and I’ll check in with you throughout the day. Don’t forget to make sure you’re not scheduled to work on Friday. We have your 12-week appointment and the gala at the hospital back in Denver.”
“Got it in my calendar,” she says, holding up her phone as she grabs her gym bag, keys, and lunch box. She spins back around, scanning the room. “Did I get everything?”
I reach in the fridge and get her water bottle. She bounds over, throwing her free arm around me and planting one last kiss before grabbing her bottle and heading out.
She’s pretty much moved into my lake house, something she shockingly didn’t object to when I brought it up a few weeks ago. I thought for sure she’d still insist on her own space and independence, which normally I’d respect, but with my baby inside her, it was going to be non-negotiable anyway.
I run my hands over my face. I’m exhausted. Between sleeping like shit from worry, and my demanding work schedule split between Grand Lake and Denver, I have to figure something out before the baby gets here.
Leigh and I spoke only once about where we planned on ultimately living, neither of us settling on one place or the other. The logical option is Denver. I have a condo downtown near the hospital, my mom is 15 minutes away, and Leigh’s parents are 25 minutes away. On the other hand, I like our life out here, and so does Leigh.
I walk over to my office, taking a seat and opening the safe I’d installed in my desk. I pull out the engagement ring I had made for Leigh several weeks back. My heart feels full and warm when I look at it. It’s beautiful and I know she’ll love it. I can’t wait to slide it on her finger, but I know that now isn’t the time. I don’t want her feeling like she’s an obligation because she’s carrying my child. I also don’t want her to feel like it’s just something I’m doing because of the timing of everything. When I ask her, I want her to know that it’s the most important question—and the most important decision—I’ll ever make in life. I close the box and place the ring back inside the safe.
I glance at the clock. Leigh should’ve made it to her studio by now. I pull my phone out and send her a message.
Me: Hey, sweetheart, you make it to work okay? Miss you already.
Her response is almost instant.
Leigh: Yes, made it the two-and-a-half miles without any carjackings or exploding semi tankers. Miss you too.
She ends the message with the eye roll emoji and a heart.
In situations like this, I can’t decide if I want to spank her ass till its pink for being a smart-ass about how worried I am, or laugh at the never-ending attitude that comes out of her tiny body. I smile and slide the phone in my pocket as I grab my keys and head over to the small hospital.
I hold my breath as I grasp Leigh’s hand—both of us staring at the monitor as the doctor runs the camera over her lower belly.
“Baby is measuring right on target,” the doctor says as the familiar rapid fluttering sounds fill the room.
Relief washes over me and I let out an audible sigh. I look down at Leigh and watch as a single tear falls down her cheek and she lets out a shaky breath.
“Everything is okay, though?” she asks, not letting go of my hand.
The doctor smiles, turning the monitor a little closer to us so we can see what she’s pointing at.
“Everything’s fine, Mom. See? Your baby’s right here.”
It feels surreal. I’m staring at the screen and see the very clear outline of a baby moving around in her belly. I saw the positive pregnancy test—hell, I stood there while she took it and the subsequent six others I made her take—but this . . . this makes it that much more real.
“We can see there’s only one fetus, so no multiple births. The baby’s size and heartbeat are completely normal.” She talks through everything very calmly and then turns to face us.
“Did you want to find out the sex of the baby?”
We both stare at each other then back at her. I know it’s most likely too early to tell, but if there’s a chance . . .
“This is just an early prediction, so it’s not one 100%, but we can make an educated guess. It’s up to you or we can wait for a definitive answer at the 18-week scan.”
“I—I think I want to wait to know for sure,” Leigh says, looking up at me, and I nod.
“Okay, well, everything looks great. You’re doing fantastic, so just keep making sure you’re staying hydrated, taking your vitamins, and sleeping well.” She prints off the photos and hands them to us.
“Oh, I have one other question,” Leigh says as I help her into a sitting position. “Um, is it okay to continue with normally scheduled activities?” She looks apprehensive.
“You mean working out? Yes, obviously you need to be very aware of your body and don’t push things if you feel uncomfortable. We often recommend for mothers to stay active during pregnancy since it helps with labor, delivery, and the recovery process.”
Leigh nods, smiling softly. “Yeah, that, but also, um, sex? We can be a little—vigorous I guess wou
ld be the best way to put it.”
I look over at her, her cheeks reddening with embarrassment, but she refuses to make eye contact with me. I try my best not to chuckle at her question. It’s valid. My proclivities aren’t for the faint of heart, but I know not to push it in her condition.
The doctor laughs. “That’s a very common concern and I assure you, you’re fine with resuming your sexual activity. I think the only time it would be concerning is if we’d detected some issues with you or the baby or if you were participating in dangerous activities.” She looks between the both of us.
“I assure you, doctor, nothing dangerous.” I slide my hand to Leigh’s lower back and the doctor nods to us both before exiting the exam room.
“I didn’t know you were worried about our sex life.” I turn to face Leigh.
“Normally, I’m not, but I think we already have more sex than most, and lately it feels like you’ve been a lot more amorous than usual.” She blushes again and I slide my hand beneath her jaw, running my fingers along her skin.
“What can I say? I can’t get enough of you.”
“You look positively radiant.” I place my hands on Leigh’s waist, running my fingertips over the black silky material of her dress, which flows effortlessly over her body.
I step up behind her as she inserts her earrings, looking at the mirror in front of her. The gala we’re attending tonight is black tie, and I’ve been on pins and needles waiting to see Leigh in the black floor-length gown she let me pick out for her. The material swoops low across her chest, revealing just the perfect amount of cleavage and accentuating her delicate clavicles.
I release one of my hands from her waist, running my fingertip all the way down her exposed back to where the material begins just above her ass.
“Don’t.” She spins around to face me, her hand splaying across my chest. “I just finished my hair and makeup and don’t need you messing them up.”
“Tsk, tsk, where’s the fun in that?” I lean in closer, running my lips featherlight across the skin of her neck. She exhales softly, leaning her head a little to the side to give me better access. “Besides, you look so edible.” I tighten my hands on her hips, sliding them down to grab two handfuls of her ass.
Only For Forever: An Enemies to Lovers, Small Town Romance (Men of Rocky Mountain) Page 14
