“Everything is fine.” He took a step closer, until he was wedged between the bed and the wall. “You said this was routine.”
“I know, but now I’m worried.” She was still staring at the machine, and she sounded hoarse.
“Are you thirsty? Do you want some water?”
She glanced at him, and her mouth softened. “I would love a glass of water.”
He found a stack of coffee cups on the counter and filled one with water, then handed it to her. She propped herself up on one elbow and drank it down. The sheet slipped a little, revealing a crescent of creamy skin, and he couldn’t tear his gaze away. When she noticed him looking, she snatched the sheet higher, covering herself.
After disposing of the empty cup, he took her hand again. Her fingers curled around his, and after a moment, they weren’t as cold.
A young woman walked into the room. “Hi, I’m Karen, the technician. I’ll be doing your ultrasound today.” She glanced from him to Sierra. “Is this your first one?”
“Yes,” Sierra said. Her fingers clung to his more tightly.
“All you have to do is lie there,” Karen said to her. She glanced at Nick and nodded at their joined hands. “You’ve already got your job covered.”
She folded the sheet down, revealing the pale, curved expanse of Sierra’s belly. After squirting a clear gel on her skin, Karen put an instrument on the gel and started moving it around.
Sierra turned her head to watch the screen, but there was nothing to see. Just blackness, with a few wavy white lines. Then a tiny form came into view.
Its head looked too big for its body, but its arms and legs were moving. Although it was tiny, it looked like a baby.
Fragile.
Completely defenseless.
Nick wanted to back out of the room and run as fast as he could. Instead, he moved closer to Sierra.
As she stared at it, a tear rolled down her cheek. She touched the image on the screen, as if she was trying to hold it in her hand. She glanced up at him, and he saw the wonder in her expression. The joy.
Not what he was feeling.
Reality was a punch in the gut, and it left him unable to breathe. If he did what Sierra wanted, he’d be responsible for protecting it. Keeping it safe. Raising it.
He could think of nothing more terrifying.
He stood next to the table in the cold room, with Sierra still clinging to his hand, and watched the technician move the instrument around. It seemed as if she went over the same area again and again, stopping every few seconds to type into the machine. “Why do you keep doing that?” he asked. “Is something wrong?”
The young woman smiled at him. “No, I’m just taking measurements. It’s routine, Dad. Don’t worry about it.”
Dad. Oh, God, that’s what he would be in a few months.
Sierra looked up at him, her eyes wary, her expression easy to read. She was afraid he was going to freak out. He wanted to. But he’d promised her he’d try to do this.
Seeing a tiny image on a screen wasn’t going to make him break that promise. He squeezed her hand and tried to smile reassuringly. He must have succeeded, because she smiled back. Her mouth quivered and another tear rolled down her cheek. She held his gaze a moment too long, then turned back to the screen.
Her fingers slipped between his as she twined them together. More than comfort. Intimate. Connected. His impulse was to pull away. Instead, he ran his thumb over the back of her hand.
Finally, fifteen minutes later, the torture was over. The technician left the room and he let go of Sierra’s hand. She slid off the table, the sheet wrapped around her waist, and he turned his back.
He heard the sounds in reverse—first her underwear, then her jeans, then shoes. More intimacy in an already unsettling day. Trying to ignore her, he visualized the plans for the building he was working on, concentrating on adding up numbers in his head.
It didn’t help. He heard every breath she took in the quiet room. Every slight movement of clothing against skin. Before he turned back to Sierra, he shrugged his jacket on to hide his erection. She’d think he was a complete pig.
She’d be right.
Sierra didn’t relax until the doctor came in and told her everything looked good and the baby was progressing normally. As they left the room, the technician returned and handed Sierra a piece of paper. She stared down at it, until curiosity made him look over her shoulder. It was a picture of the baby, in all its fragility.
“Next time, I’ll probably be able to tell you the sex,” the woman said cheerfully.
Next time? He had to do this again?
Nick didn’t say anything as they walked to the car. He had to catch her elbow once, when she stumbled on a piece of broken pavement. She was too busy staring at the picture to watch where she was going.
As they drove back to Otter Tail, his sweaty hands were slippery on the steering wheel. He took a curve a little too fast, and pumped the brakes to slow them down.
“That freaked you out, didn’t it?” Sierra said.
“I’m fine.”
“I saw your face, Nick. You looked like you’d just been hit by a truck.”
He’d felt that way, too. “I wasn’t expecting to see the baby moving around. Looking so real.”
“It was amazing,” she said.
The awe in her voice made him grip the steering wheel harder. An abandoned orchard flashed past the window, the trees twisted and gnarled. Weeds grew knee-high beneath them, and the fence had fallen in places.
It would take a lot of work to make that orchard productive, and there was no guarantee the trees would even bear fruit again. He was like that orchard—too bent to be put right. Sierra might as well accept the truth.
Dad.
He couldn’t be a father to her baby.
SIERRA GLANCED AT NICK as the car sped up again. His knuckles were white on the steering wheel, and his jaw was clenched. She should have made him wait outside the ultrasound room. Seeing the images of her baby for the first time was completely awe-inspiring. She could only imagine how they had shaken Nick.
But if he couldn’t handle an ultrasound, how was he going to deal with an actual baby? She needed a strong partner.
A little niggle of guilt prodded her conscience. She’d known how apprehensive he was about this baby. She could have eased him into it a little more gently.
But why should she? The reality was they were having a baby, and it was time for him to either step up to the plate or walk away for good.
Nick slowed as he drove through the business district of Otter Tail, then pulled the sleek sports car into a parking spot at the curb.
He jumped out and opened her door, then helped her out. As soon as she was on the sidewalk, he dropped her hand as if it had burned him. “Do you, uh, want to get something to eat?”
“I have some leftovers in my refrigerator from Jen’s restaurant. She sneaks up there and leaves them once in a while. Why don’t I pack you some to take away with you?”
“Fine.” He walked beside her, his hands jammed into his pockets, and didn’t say anything. By the time they were in her apartment, the silence had become awkward.
She shed her sweater and purse, then pulled out the ultrasound picture and set it on the bookcase, next to a photo of her with her parents on their sailboat. The three of them stood together, laughing, arms draped over each other’s shoulders. A unit. A family. As she stared at them side by side, the smiling figures blurred.
Her parents would never know their grandchild. Never hold her. Never teach her to sail, to play baseball, take her camping.
Sierra’s mom had teased her about giving them grandchildren, warning they would spoil the kids unmercifully. “We won’t have to worry about discipline,” she’d joked. “We’ll spoil them silly, then hand them back to you. I can’t wait!”
Below the pictures sat a colorful box that held her mother’s journals. Sierra touched it, needing to feel a connection to her parents. To something t
hey’d touched.
“What’s wrong?” Nick said behind her. He put his hands on her shoulders. “Why are you crying?”
“Missing my parents,” she said, her voice catching. “Thank you for going with me to the ultrasound.”
His hands tightened and his lips brushed her hair, his breath tickling her scalp. “You’re welcome.”
She turned and burrowed into his chest, the leather of his jacket cool against her hot cheek. His arms circled her slowly and awkwardly. His body hummed with tension, as if he was afraid to touch her.
She tried to ease away. “I’m sorry. That was…it was inappropriate,” she said, her voice drowning in tears. “I won’t do it again.”
He cupped her head and tucked her against him, his fingers threading through her hair. “Don’t,” he said. Let me hold you. I didn’t want to cross a line.” He swept his thumb over her cheek. “I don’t know what you want from me.”
“Just hold me,” she whispered. She needed to feel his arms around her. Feel as if she was connected to another person, even if just for a few minutes. She’d been welcomed in Otter Tail, but wasn’t close to anyone. No one had touched her, and she was aching for contact with another person.
Her breath shuddered in and out as she pressed against him. Keeping one hand around her, he pulled off his jacket with the other, then folded her against his chest. He dropped a kiss on her hair, and she shivered as his fingers moved gently against her nape.
When she realized she was brushing her lips to his sweater, she eased away, her face hot. “I didn’t mean to cry all over you again. I’m sorry you’ve borne the brunt of my emotional meltdowns.”
Instead of letting her go, he cupped her face in his palms. “This isn’t a meltdown. Of course you’re missing your parents. You’re entitled to cry.”
He pulled her close again, and the heat of his body, his arms around her, his scent, were comforting. She closed her eyes and allowed herself to relax into him. Maybe she was wrong about him. Nick thought he had nothing to give her. He’d told her he didn’t do relationships, and maybe that was true. But he’d been remarkably sensitive to what she needed.
She was foolish to get her hopes up. Right now, though, he was giving her exactly what she needed.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
NICK LOOKED DOWN AT Sierra’s dark red hair as she lifted her head and pushed away from him. Without thinking, he held her more closely. “Stay,” he said quietly. “Let me hold you.” Her tears of grief for her parents were painful to watch. He wasn’t any good at comfort, but he could man up and give her this.
She glanced up, unsure, and he slid his hand over her silky hair and urged her against him. Her fists tightened on his sweater. “I didn’t think you wanted any part of this.”
“Define ‘this’.” He bent his head closer, then stopped. Waiting for her to answer.
Her nails grooved the thin material of his sweater and pressed against his skin. “This stuff—a pregnant woman’s emotional roller coaster. Me falling apart. You having to comfort me.”
“You’re right. This isn’t the way I’d choose to spend my afternoon. But you just lost your parents a few months ago. Who else is going to do it?”
“Most men run when women start to cry.”
He was one of them. “Yeah, well, you haven’t soaked my sweater yet. If you do, we’ll rethink things.”
She sniffled and smiled weakly. “You have hidden depths, Nick.”
No, he didn’t. He’d never made a secret of what he wanted or how he felt. “I like holding you, Sierra. I like touching you.”
“Don’t sell yourself short. You knew what I needed and gave it to me.”
“Don’t make me into someone I’m not,” he said. He let her go and backed away. “I’m not one of those guys you usually date—understanding and sensitive and kind. I’m not a nice guy, Sierra.”
She swiped at her eyes and studied him. “How do you know what kind of guys I date?”
He shoved his hands into his pockets. “I’ve seen them at the Christmas parties and the summer picnics.” They hovered over her, waiting to do whatever she asked of them. Bland, eager-to-please puppies with wagging tails.
“I’m not the kind of woman you get involved with, either,” she said.
So she’d noticed his dates, as well. There was no deep, inner meaning. It just proved they were both architects—they had an eye for detail and a good memory. We’re in unfamiliar territory, then.” He moved one of the pictures of her family on the bookshelf, aligning it carefully with the others. “I guess we both have a lot to learn.”
“I guess we do.”
She was looking at him as if she’d figured something out, and it made him uneasy. “You said something about food?” he said.
She smiled, and the softening of her expression, as if he’d said something much more profound than “let’s eat,” deepened his uneasiness.
“I did. Let’s see what Jen left for me.”
They walked into the bright, sunny kitchen. Nick could see a slice of the lake from the window over the sink, and the waves had picked up a little. If he opened the window, he’d be able to hear it. Sierra went to the refrigerator and peered inside. “There’s chicken and mashed potatoes, and a thin-crust pizza.” She smiled over her shoulder at him. “Jen doesn’t appreciate Chicago-style pizza.”
He moved closer and leaned over to look. “That’s a wimpy-ass pizza.” He set a hand on her shoulder to steady her. “Let’s have the chicken.”
“Good choice.” She pulled it out. “You’ll have to stay and eat because it’s too hard to take away.”
They put the chicken in the oven to warm it and set the potatoes in the microwave. He opened the refrigerator again. “How about a salad, too?” Pregnant women were supposed to eat healthy food. Salads were about as healthy as it got.
“That sounds good. You want to make it?”
“I can do that.” As he cut up a tomato and cucumber, he glanced at Sierra, heating up the chicken. This was domestic, he thought uneasily. Cozy. As he watched her, his hand slipped and the knife sliced into his finger.
He should have known better than to try and do the domestic thing. He shoved the cold water on and held his finger beneath the stream.
He was trying to be someone he wasn’t.
“You cut yourself,” Sierra said, dropping the plate of chicken on the counter.
“Just clumsy,” he said lightly as he wrapped a piece of paper towel around his finger.
“I think I have some bandages.”
“Don’t worry about it. I’m fine.”
She glanced at his hand more than once, but by the time they sat down to eat, he’d stopped bleeding. “Thanks for sacrificing your finger to help get things ready.”
He paused with a bite of chicken halfway to his mouth. “Did you think I’d sit there and let you do all the work?”
“Of course not. But some guys would have.”
“Losers, maybe.”
She laughed. “This is why we’ve always worked so well together, Nick. We think the same way.”
No, they didn’t. He set his fork down and took a drink of water. They wanted completely different things from life.
Trying to change the subject, he asked her about the Barnes house and her plan of attack, now that they’d replaced the defective plywood flooring. After she described what she had planned for the coming week, he told her about the building he was working on. He asked her about a tricky design problem and they debated several solutions. Some of the tightness in his chest eased. It was as if they were back at Boone and Associates, nothing more than colleagues.
Sierra lined up her fork and knife carefully on the empty plate, then moved her glass of water to one side. “One of the reasons I was upset earlier was because our baby won’t have any grandparents. On my side, at least.”
She drew circles in the condensation the glass had left on the wood table, and avoided his gaze. “How about you? Are your parents still alive?�
��
A vise clamped over his chest. “No. No parents.”
She looked at him then. “Any other family? Sisters or brothers? Aunts? Uncles?”
“No family at all.”
A tiny line appeared between her eyebrows. “But you know about them, right? For medical stuff? Like any diseases that run in the family?”
“No diseases I know about.” Except an allergy to parenthood. That, they’d passed on to him.
The walls of a cage were closing in, and he edged away from the table. He wanted to step up to the plate for her. Intended to. But she was crowding him. Asking for more than he could give.
“Isn’t there anything you can tell me about your family?”
“Stop pushing, Sierra,” he said, more harshly than he’d intended. “I’m giving you what I can.”
“That’s not much, Nick.” She’d stopped playing with her silverware and glass, and watched him steadily. “I know nothing about you, outside of work. And less about your family.”
“What more do you want to know about me? We’ve worked together for three years. You should have a pretty good idea what I’m like.”
“When two people are going to have a baby together, they generally know more about each other than their partner’s opinions on window elevations.” She watched him for a moment, then added, “You said you’d try to be part of our lives. That means we’re part of your life, too.”
We meant her and the baby. She thought that gave her the right to pry into his life. Into his soul. To pick at him until she’d uncovered all his secrets. “I said I’d be part of your life, and I intend to be.” It was becoming clear that money was all he had to offer her. “My family is irrelevant. They’re not around. I’m all there is.”
“Okay.” Her voice was quiet. Subdued. “Thank you for telling me.”
He carried his dishes to the sink, rinsed them and put them in the dishwasher, then did the same with hers. “I need to get going,” he said. “I have to get back to Chicago.”
“I thought you were staying for the weekend.”
“No. I have to go.” He glanced around the kitchen, which had seemed so cozy and comfortable earlier. Now it was too small and confining. “I’ll call you, all right?”
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