“I don’t know that we have anything to talk about.”
“Well, how about…our child?” His jaw clenched and she could see she was making him angry again. It was so strange to watch his emotions like this when he’d never shown any emotion at all.
Except that night. That night when everything had changed. When she’d looked into his face and seen—
But she hadn’t. She had only thought she’d seen his affection. Because a man who truly cared about a woman didn’t shut her out of his life after sex. Instead he let her in.
“That’s my point. Is there anything new to discuss now? Biology demands the kid’s living with me for at least the next six months. When it’s out, we can talk again.”
She watched the incredulousness in his expression and wondered if she’d looked the same way when he said they would get married.
“To quote you, oh, hell no.”
Okay, maybe she’d been foolish to think he would cool his heels until after the baby was born. But the truth was she was struggling with seeing him again. Apparently, three months hadn’t been long enough to get him out of her system. If she were honest with herself, three lifetimes probably wouldn’t be enough.
Looking at him now, she thought about how happy she was to see the color in his cheeks, even knowing she’d put it there by pissing him off. She was struck by the desire to cup his face in her hand and tell him how glad she was that he was still alive.
God, she’d missed him. Missed him like nothing she’d ever known in her life. More than she’d missed her own mother after she’d left. It had been pure hell waiting day to day to find out from the hospital if his status had changed. Spitefully, he’d removed her from the list of people allowed access to his health information. The only thing the hospital could confirm was his status.
Every day she called, every day the same answer. Stable. Until finally she knew that he wasn’t getting worse and his body wasn’t going to reject the new cells.
He’d won his battle. But she still had lost everything.
Until that little white stick turned bright pink.
“What do you want, then?”
“I want to have dinner with you. I’ve missed…eating with you.”
“That was a nice thing to say.”
“I didn’t say it to be nice. I said it because it’s the truth. We were together for six years and you just… You were gone. Was it easy for you? Was it easy to walk away?”
The intensity in his expression startled her. He was closer to her now, nearly pressing her against the car door until she felt the handle dig into her spine.
“How can you ask that?” she said, her heart suddenly beating in her throat. “How can you—” She put her hand against his chest. His heart was beating fast, too. “Oh, no, you don’t get to play the guilt game with me.”
“Don’t I? I was in the hospital and you didn’t come to see me. Not once.”
Because she couldn’t. She couldn’t pretend anymore that he cared about her. And being there as some disinterested employee/part-time nurse…it was just too painful.
Still, she hadn’t known that he would miss…eating with her.
“If you want to take me to dinner, we can talk. But it’s got to be about the future and this child and that’s it. I’m not talking about the past.”
He smirked. “The past? It was only three months ago. But fine, I’ll take it. We’ll leave your car in the garage and take mine.”
He pulled out his key fob and pressed a button unlocking the doors and Anna got in. Their only conversation was about where to eat and, ultimately, he drove them the few blocks to Market where he’d heard of a French BYOB restaurant that was supposed to be amazing. Since she couldn’t drink and he drank infrequently, they didn’t bother picking up wine to take with them.
When they were seated Anna eyed the menu in front of her with some reservations. French cuisine and pregnancy apparently didn’t mix, because most of the items—food that she would have fawned over a few months ago—were now making her queasy.
Snails were so not going to happen.
She ordered a ginger ale and dug into the bread when it came.
“I would like to go to your next doctor’s visit.”
She considered his request. She’d had her last appointment only a few days ago. She’d heard the heartbeat for the first time and had made her decision that it was time to tell him. “That’s fine. They are pretty routine.”
“When do I get to see the picture? You know, the grainy thing that no can really tell what it is but people make a big deal out of it anyway.”
She smiled. “That’s at eighteen weeks, I think.”
“Are you going to find out the gender?”
Hmm. She hadn’t thought about that. She hadn’t really thought about anything other than finally getting over the hurdle of telling him. Now she realized she would have to let him share in all these decisions. In a way it was like working with him again.
They had always worked together very well.
“Do you want to?” she asked him.
“I’m willing to compromise on that issue.”
“So noted. Let’s table it until we actually have the sonogram.”
They ordered. Just some pasta in a French cream sauce for her, while he’d opted for the rabbit.
“You’re normally more daring in your food selection.”
She rubbed her belly while she sipped on the ginger ale. “Yeah, well, junior has other ideas. I’ve been a nonstop vomit mobile for the past three months. It’s easing up a little but I don’t want to push it.”
“I can sympathize.” He looked at her a little sadly. “I would have held your head. With a damp washcloth on the back of your neck.”
It’s what she had done for him. She wasn’t even sure why the washcloth was necessary or what it accomplished. She just remembered it as something her mother did when she’d been a little girl and had been sick. It was one of the few nicer memories she had of her mother.
Their meal came and Anna picked at hers while she watched Ben eat. Before the cancer, he’d enjoyed his food. But once he’d gotten sick, the weight fell off him quickly as his appetite had fled. It had been a struggle every day to keep pushing the calories into him. During that first round of chemo, she’d basically pumped him full of fruit smoothies and milkshakes which were the only things he seemed able to tolerate.
It was ridiculous, and if asked, she would totally blame it on the hormone thing, but she could feel the tears coming as she watched him steadily clean his plate. He wasn’t going to die. Ben Tyler was going to live and now, seeing him devour his rabbit, she finally let herself believe it.
“You’re not touching your meal,” he said when he finally looked at her plate. “You should order something else. Something more palatable.”
“You see how ironic this is, don’t you?”
He leaned back. “The shoe is on the other foot.”
“I’m not potentially dying. At least, I hope not.”
“Yes, but you need taking care of. You’re going to be tired and you’re obviously still dealing with nausea. I understand your concerns about rushing into marriage. It seemed like a natural conclusion, but maybe you’re right. We’re not there yet and I pushed too fast. But come home and live with me. At least for the duration of the pregnancy. Let me take care of you at least.”
Home. Come home with him. Anna put her face in her hands and fought to control her breathing if not the tears.
“Anna, what the hell…”
He was out of his chair and crouching next to her, his hand rubbing her back and that only made her weep harder.
“Damn hormones,” she blubbered.
He handed her the napkin off her lap and she used it to dab her eyes. When she lifted her head she imagined her face would be blotchy and red and her eyes swollen. Just the image she wanted to portray in front of him. He was right about her. In some ways she was very messy.
He resumed his se
at across from her, setting his elbows on the table and leaning in intently. “What did I say?”
She shook her head not even willing to think the word again. He wouldn’t understand. Sadly, she didn’t think he could ever understand what those six years with him meant. Maybe it was time to tell him. Maybe if she came clean with him, he would finally get what her problem was and back off.
“You don’t get it.” She hiccupped.
“Obviously not.”
“All these years— Oh, crap.”
It rushed up on her like a wave. Instantly, she stood and darted around the other tables. She covered her mouth just in case and managed, with scant seconds to spare, to find the ladies’ room in the rear of the restaurant and kick open a stall.
Leaning over the toilet bowl, every traitorous bit of food she’d consumed came spewing out of her mouth. She fell to her knees and braced herself, trying not to think how disgusting it was to do this in a public bathroom.
Her only salvation was that it appeared to be spotlessly clean.
She heard the door behind her squeak open and thought about trying to gather herself up to explain. Surely another woman would understand her plight. Especially if the woman was a mother.
Only it wasn’t a woman who’d entered. She knew it when the stall opened and a cold, wet towel was placed on the back of her neck, while he handed her another one so she could wipe her mouth.
That’s right. A cold towel on the back of the neck did make her feel better.
“It’s okay. I’m here, Anna.”
She closed her eyes. He was here.
*
BEN INSISTED on seeing her home. He’d paid the check and escorted her out of the restaurant, but instead of taking her to her car he drove her directly home.
“I need to get to work tomorrow,” she protested. But he could see the objection was only mildly stated. After heaving up the contents of her stomach she looked decidedly weak. She leaned her head on the seat and he watched her eyes close for a prolonged count before she struggled to open them again.
“I’ll pick you up in the morning.”
“Or I can take the bus. I’m not an invalid, you know. It’s just morning sickness. All day morning sickness.”
“I want to be helpful. Besides, it’s not like I have anything better to do.”
She tilted her head in his direction. “You’re still not working.”
“In spurts. But certainly not full time. The replacement you found—well done, by the way—has kept everything moving. Everyone is booked with a consulting assignment of some sort. It seems the business can run without me.”
Ben had struggled to digest that fact once he’d started to feel better again. He’d told himself he wasn’t going to the office because of his concerns about being around people. The truth was he was afraid that once he got to the office there wouldn’t be much for him to do.
To her he could admit that. Only to her. “It’s a hard lesson to learn that you’re completely and totally dispensable.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. They’ll need you. When something goes wrong, they always need you.”
He found a parking spot on the street in front of her building then got out of the car to walk with her to her apartment. He had this absurd urge to lift her off her feet and carry her, but considering his strength was only nicely returning he could see himself dropping her halfway up the stairs.
That wouldn’t be very Rhett Butler of him.
Once inside her apartment, she immediately went into her bedroom—no doubt to change out of the sundress, which had suffered from her time spent kneeling on the bathroom floor. He could hear the water running and imagined she was standing under the shower, cleaning herself off.
He imagined her naked.
Her breasts covered with hot running water that would trickle over her skin and down her belly to…
Ben groaned and cut off that line of thinking. Not twenty minutes earlier she’d been head down in a toilet bowl. It wasn’t fair to be thinking of her and sex when she obviously felt so poorly.
But when she came out of the bedroom, dressed in a pair of yoga pants and a tank top—an outfit he remembered fondly—with her hair pulled back and her face washed clean she looked better.
She looked beautiful. The freckles that dotted her face and arms and body stood out against her white creamy skin and he found himself wanting to connect the dots. With his tongue.
“I am flipping hungry.”
“Seriously?” He recalled never being hungry after vomiting. In fact, the sensation of hunger altogether had been stripped away by the drugs until very recently. Now he was hungry for food and…other things.
“I know. But it’s not like chemo. It hits me like a truck but then it’s gone and I want a gallon of ice cream.”
Ben wandered into the kitchen, which was merely an extension of the living room but with ceramic tiles on the floor instead of carpet. In the freezer he found a pint of triple chocolate fudge. He held it out to her. “Will this do?”
With a spoon already in hand she practically bounced on her feet. “Gimme, gimme.”
Given her enthusiastic pouncing on the container he was surprised to see his hand still attached when he brought it back empty.
It was so quintessentially Anna. No half measures for her. Ever. She was the kind of woman who bounced up and down for ice cream and ate it directly out of the carton.
That lack of middle ground was why he knew when they were working together that, despite his attraction to her, she would always be wrong for him in any type of relationship outside of their professional one. Of all the women to choose from for marriage and parenting, he never would have considered Anna. Not that he had thought much about marriage or a long-term relationship, but when he had, he conceded he would need something distinctly different from Anna. Someone more sedate, more practical. Someone like him, who would understand him.
She understands you better than anyone.
The thought came and went. It didn’t matter what he thought he wanted in a relationship anymore. He and Anna were in one. They’d had sex. They’d made a baby. While he had to concede he didn’t see her letting him drag her to the altar any time soon, he did want to solidify and define them as…something. A couple. Expecting parents. Something.
In the living room Anna sat on the couch, her legs crossed Indian style, and her mouth puffy around an oversize spoon of ice cream.
“Are you feeling better?”
“Hmm… Good.”
“Then can we get back to our conversation earlier? I asked you to come live with me. So I can take care of you.”
She swallowed and set down the container. “You did.”
“Then you burst into tears.”
“I told you—”
“I know. Hormones. But why did the idea of living with me bring on said hormones? We’ve done it before, Anna. I’m not asking you to share my bed. I just want to go back to the way things were.”
Suddenly an image of her in his bed popped to mind and forced him to turn his back to her slightly so she wouldn’t see his thickening erection. He needed to get control of this. It was embarrassing. He was a walking hard-on around this woman.
She unfolded her legs and stood. He could see she was gathering up courage for some big proclamation.
“I can’t go back to the way things were, Ben.”
“Why not? Just a simple answer.”
“Because it will hurt too much,” she said sadly. She walked up to him and rubbed his arm like she was soothing a child. “It’s not your fault. It’s mine.”
“What are you saying? Speak coherently.”
“Since I was six years old I lived in three different foster homes. The longest I had stayed anywhere since my mother abandoned me, was with you. In your office, then in your home when you got sick. Don’t you get it?”
“No. What am I supposed to get?”
“You became my home. You became my family. I fell in love with you.�
��
He jerked at the words. “Please don’t be melodramatic.”
She smiled and rubbed his arm again. “I know. You don’t like the messy stuff. But it’s true.”
“I don’t know what to say.” His chest felt hollow and he had to concentrate to breathe.
“Let me get it all out. Now, once and for all, and then you’ll see why I’m not going to marry you or live with you or anything like that. You were my life, my reason for getting up. You made me happy and angry and sad. That night we had sex was the most amazing night of my life because I thought you finally understood what I felt. And I thought…I thought maybe you felt…something, too.”
I did. Only he couldn’t seem to get the words out.
“But then you shut me out completely. You made this decision that could have ended your life.”
“It didn’t. It worked. I’m alive because of it.”
She shook her head and pressed her lips together. “Maybe. It doesn’t matter. To me it was like having my mother walk away all over again. You were willing to leave me. To take that risk, without even considering how I might feel about it. Any chance we had, any hope I had…it was done then. I had to face the truth. You didn’t care for me like I cared about you and that night was only about some last-chance sex for you.”
Her conclusions were ridiculous. “Anna, I was fighting for my life. Not abandoning you.”
“See, that’s just it. I thought we were fighting for your life.”
“I’m sorry. But I still don’t understand. You say all these things. About how you feel. I’m offering to marry you. I’m giving you a chance to come back to the place you said was your home.”
Anna shrugged. “I know. Crazy, right? But it’s gone now. The delusion, or the hope, or whatever. I can’t pretend you love me and I can’t love someone who doesn’t love me back. I mean, how pathetic would that be? So we’re done. We’ve got to figure out the right thing to do for this kid, but the you-and-me part of it is over.”
No. He wouldn’t accept it. Simply hearing her say the words felt as though this heavy weight dropped on his body.
An Act of Persuasion Page 7
