by Amanda Aksel
“Really, you want kids?” Oh, no. No, no, no, no, no! Did I read this whole thing wrong?
“Of course. At least two, hopefully three. But now I’m not sure that’s going to happen.” I made a mistake. I need to tell him.
“Hey!” Kate walks into the room carrying a coffee tray with two coffees. She stops short when she sees that I’m talking to Mick. “Oh, sorry, am I interrupting something?”
“No, come on in,” Mick says.
“I brought your coffee.” Kate hands me one of the cups. I’m dying for the brew but not sure I deserve it right now.
“I hope that’s decaf,” Mick utters.
Kate gapes at him, blinking her eyes. “So, I guess she told you.”
Mick nods with a confident certainty. “Oh yeah, I figured it out yesterday, but we just talked about it. So the cat’s out of the bag.”
“Good. So, what do you think?” she asks Mick, taking a seat on the bed next to me. Oh, my God! She thinks I told him the truth. Heat radiates from my cheeks through my entire body, and I chew on my bottom lip watching the crash before it happens.
Brace yourself, Beau.
“I think it’s very brave.” Great. Now he’s paying me a compliment.
Kate wrinkles her brow, then shoots me a look. “What’s very brave? Are you keeping the baby?”
I spit out a laugh. “Of course I’m keeping it. I paid a lot of money to get that donor and all those fertility treatments.” I give her a wide-eyed glare as if to say, “if you lie about this for me, I will pay your taxes for the rest of your life.”
She shifts her jaw, and I know I’m going to get an earful later. But she’s Kate. My Kate. “Right. That’s what you meant by brave.”
Mick’s phone dings, and he pulls it from his pocket, taking a quick glance. “Sorry, I have to check on a patient. I’ll see you both later.”
“Bye,” I say. I think I’m gonna be sick.
Kate waits for him to leave the room, then gives me the most severe scowl. “What the hell was that?” she asks in an angry whisper.
“I know. I panicked! I was going to tell him but he looked so uncomfortable that I just spit out the lie.”
“So you told him that it’s a test tube baby?” Her voice elevates, and I’m almost sure he can hear her down the hallway.
“Shh!” I say. “Keep your voice down. I didn’t tell him it was a donor baby, he suggested it, and I just . . . went with it.”
She curls her fingers like she wants to strangle me. “You went with it?”
“Kate, this is really hard for me. I know I’m not handling this very well, which only goes to prove that I’m clearly not ready to be a mom. Maybe the best thing is to not keep the baby and let Mick think that I miscarried. That way he doesn’t get hurt. And we can both just go on with our lives.” My words sound reasonable but it doesn’t sit well with me. The problem is, I’m not sure which part of it bothers me the most.
“So, you don’t want to keep the baby? Is that why you told him that?” Kate asks.
I shrug. “I’m still not sure. What do you think I should do?”
“No.” Kate shakes her head like a child refusing broccoli. “I’m not weighing in on your decision. It’s yours to make. But I do think you should tell him the truth before you do anything.”
“But what if he wants me to keep it, and I decide that I don’t want to? He’ll hate me forever.” Now that I know he wants kids so badly, this is a real possibility.
“He’s a good guy, and I’m sure you’ll work it out. Besides, what if you both want the same thing?” What if she’s right?
“But what happens if we both want to keep it? How would that even work? I live across the globe.”
Kate shrugs and her face finally softens. “People move. I did.”
“This wasn’t supposed to happen.” I lower my head. How could I have made an impossible situation even more impossible?
“I know,” she says in a much more understanding tone. “But it did. And it’s not just about you anymore, Beau.”
I stare into her green eyes, hating, absolutely hating, this dilemma and hating even more that she’s so right. “Kate, what am I going to do?”
She lets out a deep sigh. “I can’t answer that for you.”
Of course, the one thing she won’t give me her opinion on is the one thing I need.
***
After a few routine questions and clean blood-test results, Dr. Claude discharges me from the hospital. Finally, I’m free to shower and change, and most importantly, see my dad. I opt to wait on the first two and head over to my dad’s room. When I arrive, he’s sneering at what looks like a very healthy bowl of oatmeal.
“Hey, sunshine,” Dad smiles at me as I walk into the room. And I’m relieved that he’s actually in good spirits.
“Hey, Daddy,” I say, giving him as much of a hug as he can manage in his bedridden state. I let out a sigh, thankful that I can finally be here for him. For real.
“Where’s Suzanne?” I glance around.
“I told her that since you’re here, she should take the day off. She’s hardly slept since . . . you know.”
I tilt my head. “Do you really think she’ll take the day off?”
Dad laughs. “No, I expect her to be back by lunch.”
I nod, agreeing with his prediction. “You seem good. How are you feeling today?”
“I’d feel a whole lot better if I could get a decent breakfast around here. They’re telling me no sausage, no bacon, and I even have to cut back on eggs.” If only I hadn’t gone for Mick’s sausage at the wedding, then it wouldn’t matter how many eggs I had had.
“It’s a small price to pay for your life, isn’t it?” Please, Dad, don’t fight the doctor’s orders too much.
“Maybe not the sausage but . . . bacon?” It’s the most helpless thing I’ve ever heard him say. My dad grew up just as privileged as I had. Since he took over the studio in the ’80s, no one has told him what to do. I’d almost be surprised to see him humble to this situation.
“Hello, everyone,” Mick says, and I whip around. My pulse begins to race the moment our eyes meet. Why is he everywhere right now?
“Hey, Doc, I hope you brought something better to eat than this,” Dad says in a wry tone.
“Sorry, Mr. Donovan. How’s the incision?” Mick walks over to the bed, and I step away, watching him examine my dad. He doesn’t seem to mind Mick, which is a good sign.
“I’m on so many pain meds, I can’t feel a thing. Too bad you don’t have any drugs to numb my taste buds.” He takes his spoon out of the creamy oatmeal and plops it back into the bowl. I don’t know why, but the sight of it makes my stomach churn and I gag a little. That’s weird.
“See, even my daughter thinks it’s disgusting.” I smile but then gag again, this time audibly. “Beau, you okay?”
I cover my mouth and swallow back. “Fine. I just—” Then there’s no swallowing back. Mick rushes over with a plastic kidney-shaped bin. I try to turn away so that he doesn’t see the coffee bile coming out of my mouth. But it’s too late.
“What the hell!” my dad calls out.
I glance down at the bowl, seeing all the shame from everything I’ve done puddled in this little blue bin. All it does is make me sicker. I heave again and lose whatever’s left. “I’m so sorry. I don’t know what happened.” I grab a tissue from the counter and wipe my mouth.
Dad cringes. “You must have some kind of flu or something.”
“She doesn’t have the flu,” Mick says and moves my bin to a tray table near the door.
“You’re not pregnant, are you?” Dad asks with a little chuckle. My body tenses and Mick looks stunned. Dad looks at each of us. “What was that? Why are you both so quiet?” He looks at me, but I can’t look him in the eye. “Sunshine, are you having a baby? Is that why they kept you in the hospital overnight?”
I look at him, wishing it were easier to lie to him than it was to Mick. But I can’t. He almost died. And if something ha
ppens to him, I wouldn’t be able to live with myself, knowing that I lied to him about something as big as this. “Yes, Daddy. I’m pregnant.”
My dad grips his chest. “Holy shit. If I hadn’t already had a heart attack, I might be having one right now.”
I lean over his bed, taking his hand. “I’m sorry, Daddy. I don’t want this to make your condition worse.”
Mick walks over and studies the monitor. “He’s okay.”
Dad squeezes my hand in his. He already feels stronger than last night. “Beau, this isn’t making anything worse. This is great news!”
“It is?” I ask. Why is it that everyone else seems to be happy with my news?
“Yes, my baby is having a baby! This gives me even more reason to live, sunshine.” He gives me that million-dollar smile—the one that tells me that I’m the only person in the world that matters.
“It does?”
“Yes, when you have a near-death experience, it really puts things in perspective. I want to spend more time with you, and now I want to get to know my grandson or granddaughter too.”
My eyes prickle with tears. It’s the only thing I’ve ever wanted from him. Time. How does he do it? How can he make me feel like the most amazing person in the world one day, then like I don’t matter the next? I want to believe that he’s ready to be the father I always wanted him to be, and even the grandfather I would want him to be, but what if things change after he gets back to his life again?
“So, who’s the lucky guy?” Dad asks with a more serious look.
I shoot a quick glance at Mick. He’s the lucky, or in this case, unlucky guy. Damn you, thirteenth floor! “It’s complicated, we can talk about it later.”
His brows furrow. “What does that mean? Did someone hurt you?” Beeps from his monitor begin to speed up.
I shake my head. “No, Daddy. Relax. It’s nothing like that.” But the beeping doesn’t stop, just goes faster and faster.
“It’s a donor baby!” Mick calls out, and my shoulders tense as if I’m bracing for an explosion.
“What?” My dad asks and the beeping levels out to a normal pace.
“Um . . .” I look to Mick. Why did he have to blurt that out? I know, I know, it’s my fault for telling him that. It has to be karma. I should’ve never gotten off the wagon in the first place.
Mick’s eyes are filled with regret, though not nearly as much as mine are. “Sorry, Beau. I had to get his heart rate back down.”
“You mean to tell me that my daughter got knocked up by some fertility doctor?”
More like a heart surgeon but . . . “Yeah.”
Dad seems utterly confused. And I don’t blame him one bit. This shit is bonkers. “So, this baby has no father?”
I glance at Mick. “No.”
Dad seems to let it sink in, then finally shrugs. “Well, the good news is I don’t have to deal with some schmuck who’s not good enough for my sunshine anyway.”
I swallow hard. I think I might be sick again.
Knock, knock.
The three of us look toward the door. Kate stands there with an innocent smile. “Can I come in?”
“Kate!” My dad calls, motioning for her to come closer.
She walks over and pecks a kiss on his cheek. “How’re you doing?”
“I’m doing great. I just found out I’m going to be a grandfather.” Dad says with a huge grin on his face.
“Oh, you did?” Kate’s brows rise to the top of her forehead. She glares at me, and I do my best to signal to keep her mouth shut.
“Can you believe it?” he asks.
“No, I really can’t.” Kate shoots me a caustic look—calling me a liar with her eyes. Yes, it’s my fault that I lied to Mick. But Mick is the one who blurted the “truth” to my dad. What am I supposed to do? Clear the air with both of them and risk my dad actually having another heart attack? I’ll make this right. Eventually.
“Beau, how long are you in town?” Dad asks.
Due to the enormous weight of my guilt, I struggle to lift the corners of my mouth into a bright smile. “As long as you need me. I booked a suite until the end of the week.”
“Well, I don’t want you to be there by yourself. Kate, can you stay with her?”
Kate tucks her hands in her denim pockets. “I’ll only be here for a couple more days. But Drew and I are staying at Mick’s house. Maybe Beau can stay there.” Oh, no. I cannot stay at Mick Manor. She’s doing this to punish me. I know it.
“Who’s Mick?” my dad asks.
“I am,” the doc says with a hand up.
“Oh.” Dad lifts an eyebrow. “What kinda place you got, Doc?”
“It’s a house just outside of the city,” he says simply.
“It’s a manor. With staff,” Kate offers.
“That sounds more like it. Beau, I want you to stay with Kate,” Dad says, and I pray that I can talk him out of it.
“I’d rather be closer to the hospital. The hotel is only five minutes away.”
“Listen, sunshine, it would make my stress levels go down a lot more if you would just stay with your friends. It’s bad enough this damn sci-fi action thriller that we’re producing is way over budget. Just do this for me. Please?” Dad gives me his innocent pretty-please look, while Kate shoots me a much firmer you-better look. So I have no other choice than to say, “Okay.”
Just when I thought it couldn’t get any worse.
15
W ELL, THIS IS UNEXPECTED—Beau sleeping at my house. Perhaps even in my bed. With me. Drew warned me not to try anything with her, but if I know she’s naked, soaking in a tub somewhere in my house, I don’t think I’ll be able to help it. Ever since Beau came back into my life, I’ve been reliving our night in New York.
Yeah, I thought the fact that she’s pregnant with a donor’s baby would’ve put me off, but it hasn’t. Not even a little. Not to mention the woman vomited in front of me, and I still think she’s incredibly sexy. Sure, I’m a doctor but vomit is the opposite of hot.
Then again, based on the way she’s looking at me with that crooked smile, maybe I should heed Drew’s advice.
“Okay, Mr. Donovan—”
“David. You can call me David, Doc,” Mr. Donovan, I mean, David says. At least one of them is warming up to me. Beau’s been jumpy and standoffish today.
“Well, David. You’re doing great. I’ve got another procedure scheduled soon, so I’ll be back to check on you later today.” I send a nod to both Beau and Kate. “I’ll see you both later too.”
“Hey, Mick!” Beau calls.
“Yes?” I turn back in the doorway.
Her brow wrinkles as she drags her feet over, her flat shoes scrape across the floor. There’s a deep look of concern in her eyes. “Can I talk to you?”
The heavy expression on her face weighs on my gut. Whatever she wants to talk to me about doesn’t bode well. “Sure.” I wave for her to follow me into the hallway and lean against the wall a few feet away from David’s room.
Beau glances around the starkly lit corridor as a nurse in green scrubs whizzes by, shoes squeaking with every step as if they’ve been immersed in water. “Can we go somewhere we can be alone?” Maybe this conversation isn’t bad at all. Maybe she doesn’t really want to talk. “Outside, perhaps? I could use some fresh air.”
Somewhere we can be alone but not “alone.” “All right. Fresh air sounds good. It’s not too cold. About ten degrees.” I start down the hall for the stairwell.
“Ten degrees! That’s freezing.”
“Celsius,” I offer, looking back as she follows two steps behind me. Her arms are folded tightly over her chest like she’s bracing herself for the “freezing” weather.
“Oh, right. So that’s . . .”
“Fifty degrees Fahrenheit.”
“Well, that’s still freezing where I come from,” Beau grumbles.
My feet land on the second-floor landing, and I glance back at Beau who’s doing her best to keep up. There�
�s not much time before my next surgery. “It’s a lot warmer in the stairwell. We can talk here.” For whatever reason, the anticipation of what she’s about to say is killing me. Probably because it’s her.
A door slams, echoing down the stairs, followed by someone’s clunky footsteps. Beau hangs onto the rail and looks up. “I think outside would be better.”
I shrug, keeping focused on the next set of stairs. “All right.” With every step closer to the doors, my stomach twists into a tighter knot. Beau hasn’t said a word, nor released her worried brow. We walk out of a back entrance near the loading docks. No one is around. The clouds above are thick and gray, and the only sound is a dying siren on the other side of the building.
“Is this all right?” I ask, praying that it is.
At a comfortable distance away from me, Beau squints in the shaded light, keeping her arms folded as a swift breeze ripples through her long sweater. Fallen leaves rustle along the concrete. She glances left then right. “Yeah. This works.”
“So, what did you want to talk about?” I swallow, stuffing my hands into my pockets.
“I don’t know how to say this.” Beau rocks on her heels. What in the world is so difficult to say? She bites her bottom lip, squeezing her eyes shut. Whatever it is, it looks painful. “I wasn’t honest with you earlier.”
Uh-oh. What did she lie about? “What do you mean?”
She lets out a slow sigh. This is it. “You were right. About the baby. It’s not a donor’s. It’s yours. From New York.”
I suck in a sharp breath, feeling a pinch near my ribs as I clutch my hand over my chest. Blood races through my veins, and a cold sweat breaks out on the back of my neck. Did I hear her right? “Are you sure?”
Her eyes lock on mine, flashing with sympathy. It’s the same look I give when we lose a patient and the family asks if they made it. She nods, regret clouding her face. Holy fuck! Beau’s pregnant with my baby. This has never happened to me before. I’ve always been careful. Even with Beau I was safe. I can’t tell if I’m impressed with my sperm or unimpressed with the condom manufacturer. She looks like she’s giving me a cancer diagnosis. But a baby isn’t a death sentence. Maybe it is for her.
