A Little Bit Pregnant

by Susan Mallery

  She held out the band. After a couple of seconds, he took it.

  “Would you wear it if I let you have the display?” he asked.

  “No.”

  He nodded and shoved the unit back in the box, then he turned and left the room.

  She was alone. After a couple of seconds, she began peddling again, even though she was no longer in the mood to work out. Everything was different, she thought sadly. Just a couple of weeks ago their time in the gym had been fun and sexy. She and Zane would talk and joke. He helped her with her exercises and she watched his long-legged strength and grace. Now all that was lost.

  She missed him. She missed them. And she didn’t know how to get everything back the way it was.

  “Just perfect,” Dr. Sheri Grant said with a smile. “I’m going to let you get dressed, then we’ll meet in my office. I’m sure you have a lot of questions. I have answers, and some information I’d like to give you.”

  The poor woman had no idea what she was getting into, Nicki thought as she sat up and watched her doctor leave the examining room. Zane had been surprisingly quiet during the physical examine. After introducing himself, he’d taken a seat in the corner of the room and had simply observed.

  Nicki had a feeling that was all going to change when they moved on to the next stage of the appointment. The previous afternoon Zane had given her a typed list of his questions, along with the offer to add hers to his. As he’d come up with things she’d never thought of, she’d done little more than read through the three pages and shake her head.

  Now she waited while he came over and lifted her down to her wheelchair.

  “I did some research on Dr. Grant,” he said while he settled her in place.

  “I don’t doubt that.”

  “She’s very experienced, well respected and has a pleasant bedside manner, which will be important to you. From what I can tell, she favors open communications with her patients.”

  Nicki cared less about his recitation than the fact that she wasn’t wearing anything but a thin cotton robe. Hadn’t Zane noticed her bare skin when he’d lifted her up to the table or back down into her chair? Did he want to pause and feel the warmth of her body so close to his? Didn’t he find any of this a turn-on?

  Apparently not, as he told her he would wait outside in the hallway while she dressed.

  Five minutes later they were in Dr. Grant’s office. Zane tried to hand her the small lunch bag he’d brought.

  “You should eat something,” he told her.

  “I’m not hungry.” Okay, if she were to tell the absolute truth, she felt a slight gnawing in her stomach, but there was no way she was going to encourage Zane by taking the food he’d insisted on dragging to their appointment.

  “You had breakfast at eight,” he said. “It’s nearly noon. You need food in your system.”

  She sighed. “What I need is some quality time with a normal person.”

  He ignored that. “I have string cheese and some grapes.”

  He opened the bag just as Dr. Grant stepped into the room. Nicki grabbed the lunch sack and shoved it into her purse.

  Dr. Grant, a tall, slender woman in her mid-forties, settled behind her desk.

  “New mothers and fathers-to-be always have lots of questions,” she said with a smile. “I want to answer all of them. We have plenty of time, so don’t be shy. Oh, let me give you this first. I don’t want to forget.”

  She handed over a thick envelope filled with brochures and booklets on everything from weight gain to cloth versus disposable diapers. Nicki took it and pulled out the first sheet while Zane launched into his questions.

  “I understand that Nicki will need to take extra vitamins. Now the prenatal variety offer extra supplements, but what about a regimen we put together ourselves? I’ve done some research—”

  At that point he actually pulled out a chart. He had two copies, one of which he passed over to Dr. Grant.

  “I’ve listed the makeup of the three most popular prenatal vitamins currently used. As you can see, the second column lists all known requirements for a pregnant woman. And while we’re on the subject of supplements and nutrition, I’ve been reading about the advantages of more fish for pregnant women.”

  Nicki winced.

  Dr. Grant sat back and shook her head. “Zane, did you print out the questions you’d like me to answer?”

  “Sure. If you prefer to handle it that way.”

  He passed over his multipage list.

  She scanned the material. “I see you’re concerned about sleep, exercise. Aha. Oh, imported fruits and vegetables. I don’t usually get asked that one.”

  Nicki looked at him. “When did you add that?”

  “Last night. There was something on the news about the fact that we’re getting close to winter. Soon our fruits and vegetables will be coming from the southern hemisphere. Is that all right?”

  “Of course it’s all right,” she snapped. “If not for those imports, we wouldn’t see so much as a grape until spring. You are not keeping me from eating fruit for this entire pregnancy.”

  “Of course I want you to eat fruit. That’s the point.” He turned back to the doctor. “You understand my concern.”

  “Of course.’ Dr. Grant read off a few more items. “Is it all right for Nicki to be in the house while the cleaning service is there? What about exercise? Oh, I see you’ve included her workout schedule.” She smiled at Zane. “You’re very thorough.”

  “You have no idea,” Nicki muttered.

  “I do. I’ve seen this before.” Her expression turned sympathetic. “The good news is it gets better.”

  Zane didn’t look pleased to be discussed in this way. “What gets better?”

  “The obsession,” Dr. Grant said. “You want to do everything in your power to keep Nicki and the baby safe.”

  Zane stiffened. “How did you know?”

  “It’s not an uncommon reaction. Especially for a first-time father. You’re not physically a part of the baby the way Nicki is. You’re excited, terrified and want to put Nicki in a plastic bubble to keep her from harm. The baby, too, of course.”

  Zane didn’t look convinced. “It’s not that simple.”

  “I understand.” She set the list on her desk. “Zane, Nicki is healthy, you’re healthy, there’s no reason to think this pregnancy will be anything but completely normal. Monitoring every detail of her life isn’t going to change anything, but it will increase her stress level. You think you’re helping, but in this case, you’re creating a problem where one doesn’t exist.”

  Nicki reached out and touched his arm. “She’s right. I want you to be a part of things, but you can’t monitor every speck of food I put into my mouth.”

  He looked as if he wanted to ask why not. She supposed that she could see his point. His job was to keep people safe. Of course he would feel that more intensely about his child. If she were in—

  She froze in her chair as her brain clicked over a few important pieces of information. Zane’s list of questions. The ones that had embarrassed her and frustrated her and made her want to shake him were all about her health. What she was eating, how much she was sleeping, vitamins. Nothing on those pages was about her being in a wheelchair. He’d never mentioned it even once.

  She shook her head and called herself fifteen kinds of idiot. Zane hadn’t been lying when he said it didn’t matter and she hadn’t believed him. Because it was the easiest place to go. Talk about dumb.

  She wanted to take a few minutes to dwell on her realization but this wasn’t the time. However, the information did give her the impetus to see things from his point of view.

  “How about if we make a deal,” she said. “You can monitor me until you start to make me crazy. I’ll make a serious effort to be patient and you’ll promise to back off when I tell you to. Then we’ll see how it goes and hope Dr. Grant is right, and that this will all calm down in a month or two.”

  Zane looked from her to the do
ctor.

  “It sounds like a plan to me,” Dr. Grant said.

  Zane nodded slowly. “All right. As long as you agree to eat more quality protein.”

  She thought about the three pounds of salmon he’d left in her refrigerator. “I’ll do my best.”

  “Okay.”

  Dr. Grant smiled at them both. “All right. Now let me answer a few of the more ‘normal’ questions.”

  She reviewed the workout schedule. “Nicki, all this is fine. You may experience some days when you’re more tired, so go easy if that feels right. None of your workout is weight-bearing so you won’t have to change it as you get closer to term. You’re biggest problem will be dealing with your increasing midsection. I’m sure Zane can help you modify your routine when the time comes.”

  “That would be great,” she said.

  Zane agreed.

  “There are going to be a few considerations due to you being in a wheelchair,” her doctor continued. “As you don’t use your legs walking around, I want you to get in the habit of putting your feet up a few times a day. This will help with circulation.”

  “You’re thinking of blood clots,” Zane said. “I read about them.”

  “I’m sure you did.” Dr. Grant looked at him. “This is preventative. There’s no indication that Nicki is going to have a problem.”

  “I understand.” He turned to Nicki. “I could build something for under your desk. If it was the right height and placement, you could stretch out your legs while still in your chair.”

  “Perfect,” she said, equally annoyed and amused. He cared, she reminded herself. Maybe he didn’t love her, but wasn’t his obsessive worry a twisted sign of affection? It beat not caring at all.

  “All other daily activities are fine,” Dr. Grant said. “Including the one that got you into my office in the first place. Some couples worry that making love will hurt the baby. That’s not the truth. Most couples find that their intimacy is more special in pregnancy. It will bond the two of you, which you’re going to need to survive the 2:00 a.m. feedings.”

  Nicki found herself unable to look at Zane. Ever since he found out about her pregnancy he’d been a whole lot less interested in her as a person. She couldn’t imagine him ever wanting to make love with her again.

  But she wanted to, very much. She thought about their times together, how he’d made her feel, how she’d wanted to please him, and she missed it.

  Did he? Did he think about those nights and wish for more? She sighed. One day very soon she was going to have to find the courage to ask him. And if the answer was yes, then she was going to have to do whatever it took to get him back into her bed.

  Chapter Thirteen

  On the way back to the office, Zane thought about what had happened at the appointment. He knew Dr. Grant lumped him in with all the other neurotic fathers-to-be and there was no way he could explain the truth about his past. But one piece of information had caught his attention. That his overmonitoring of Nicki’s health would cause her more stress, which would have a physical impact on her body.

  Which meant he was going to have to be more subtle in his approach.

  He glanced over at her. She sat behind the steering wheel, her attention on the road. When they stopped for a traffic light, he spoke.

  “I’m going to back off,” he said.

  She turned toward him and raised her eyebrows. “I’m not sure I believe you.”

  He nearly smiled. Damn, but she knew him well. “I’m going to try to back off. Maybe shoot for twenty percent.”

  “It’s a start.”

  The light turned green and she eased the van forward.

  “I’ll try to be more cooperative about some things, too,” she said. “Like when I work out, I’ll put on the heart monitor, but I get to wear the display unit. Fair enough?”

  He nodded. He didn’t care who wore it, as long as she kept track of her heart rate. Scratch that. He did care, but he was willing to let this one go.

  “I’d like to read through the material when you’re done with it,” he said.

  “Okay. I’ll look it all over this weekend and bring it to work on Monday.” She sighed. “Speaking of work, we’re going to have to make an announcement at some point. We’ve both been acting weird, so I’m guessing everyone knows something is up, even if they don’t have specifics. And in time, my condition will become obvious to everyone.”

  He hadn’t thought about that. About people knowing. He and Amber had never reached that stage. When she’d died, he decided not to burden her family further by telling them she’d been pregnant.

  “What about your folks?” he asked.

  “Not something I want to think about.”

  “They want grandkids,” he told her. “They’ll be happy.”

  “They’re more into the traditional way of doing things, and don’t remind me that you’ve offered to marry me. I’m aware of that.”

  He wanted to make his case again, to tell her it was the only way to make things work, but he held back. For now.

  “I can’t decide if I should tell them over the phone or wait until they come up for Thanksgiving,” she continued. “That’s two months from now, and they might not understand why I waited so long. But they’re heading out to Australia any day now, so that’s a good excuse to keep things quiet for a while.”

  “I could tell them,” he offered.

  She glanced at him. “You were a marine, weren’t you. Talk about stepping into enemy fire.” She lowered her voice. “Hi, Mr. and Mrs. Beauman. I’m calling to let you know I knocked up your only daughter.”

  “I wouldn’t phrase it like that.”

  “There are very few delicate ways to tell my parents I’m pregnant. Believe me, I’ve been trying to find one or two.”

  He felt helpless and hated the feeling. If she would just marry him, this problem, along with several others, would be solved.

  She turned left at the signal, then pulled into the office parking lot.

  “Thanks for coming with me, Zane.”

  He stared at her. “II thought you didn’t want me to go with you, but you didn’t know how to stop me.”

  She smiled. “That was true at first. But you didn’t ask any embarrassing questions during the actual exam and I liked not being alone.”

  Suddenly he wanted to touch her. Not just to take her pulse or see if she had a fever, but because he ached for her. There was an emptiness inside him that only Nicki seemed to fill.

  “I want to come to all your appointments.”

  “I know. I guess I’m going to let you.” She pulled the keys out of the ignition. “And while we’re on the subject of you helping out, I want to redo one of the bedrooms at my place. You know, paint, maybe a border print. Do you want to help?”

  “Of course.”

  “Good, because I bought a crib and I’ve tried to put it together and it’s just not happening.”

  He grinned. “You might be a computer whiz, but you’re lousy with a screwdriver.”

  “I do okay. But the directions make no sense. I can’t tell what part is what and none of them fit together right.”

  “I’ll take a look at it. What are you doing Saturday?”

  She shrugged. “Hanging out.”

  “How about if I pick up some paint chips and swing by? I’ll work on the crib while you pick out colors.”

  “Works for me. There’s a wallpaper store by me. Maybe I’ll stop on my way home and borrow some sample books. We can look at border prints together.”

  “There are no words to describe my joy.”

  She laughed and for that second, some of the fear left Zane. They were what they had always been—good friends who cared about each other. Then he remembered about the baby and everything was different again. Everything but one.

  Even though he knew it was dangerous, even though he knew it would distract him from his main mission of keeping her safe, the wanting had returned and he didn’t know how to make it go away.<
br />
  Zane showed up late Saturday morning. Nicki let him in, then laughed when she saw the bags, boxes and charts he carried.

  “We’re talking about getting a room ready for a baby, not planning an invasion of a third world country.”

  “Paint chips,” he said as he set down a bag filled with a rainbow of bits of color. “My toolbox so I can put the crib together. The additional wallpaper books you asked me to pick up because the eight you had weren’t enough, and graph paper so we can lay out the room to scale and plan where the furniture will go.”

  She closed the door behind him. “Of course. Graph paper. And me without a scrap in the house. What was I thinking?”

  He gave her a mock glare.

  Nicki waved toward the kitchen. “I made coffee. Help yourself.” Before he could start in on her, she shook her head. “It’s a fresh pot I made just for you. I already had my cup of decaf, thank you very much.”

  “Thanks,” he said as he walked down the hall.

  Nicki picked up the bag with the paint chips and carried it into the living room. She dumped the contents onto her low coffee table and started sorting through the options.

  There were single color chips, strips with a dark color at each end—one flat, one gloss—with a white tint in the middle, and chips with five samples ranging from light to dark in that color family. Right away she noticed a definite theme.

  When Zane walked into the living room, she turned to him. “These are nearly all blue.”

  “No way. There are other colors.”

  She searched through the pile. “I found one pink chip, three green and a handful of yellows. Are you hoping for a boy?”

  He shrugged, looking more than a little sheepish. “I thought it would be fun to have a son.”

  “Let me guess. You’re thinking sports and cars. If we have a daughter, you’re going to have to learn to do the hair ribbon thing. And take her to dance class.”

  He barely kept from shuddering. “I couldn’t do that.”

  “We’re going to have to talk about that at some point,” she said.

  He sat on the sofa and picked up a blue paint chip. “Dance class?”