A Marriage Made in Texas (The Brothers Kincaid) (22 page)

“Yes.” He touched his fingers to her cheek. “Gail, I’ve never even considered talking you into quitting your job. Why would I?”

She reached up to take his hand. “I know you wouldn’t. But you want to take care of me.”

He opened his mouth to deny it, but he couldn’t. She was right, he did want to take care of her. And the baby and the girls and the dogs. He liked taking care of people. It was one reason he’d become a doctor. “I can’t help that. It’s what I do.”

“It scared me,” she said. “I was afraid that if I let you take care of me, I’d become that clingy, dependent woman I had promised myself I’d never be again. I didn’t realize it consciously, but subconsciously it made me all the more determined to be independent.”

“And I didn’t help matters. Because what I saw as sharing, you saw as being dependent.”

Her eyes on his, she nodded. “And I’m sure I’ll do it again and we’ll fight about it again. Because that’s my nature as much as taking care of people is in yours. But it doesn’t mean I don’t trust you, Jay.”

This time he believed her. “I understand that now. I didn’t before.” He smoothed his hand over her hair and smiled at her. “I’m glad you told me.”

“I was afraid to tell you. Afraid you’d be disgusted.”

“Never.” He kissed her. “You’re a lot harder on yourself than anyone else would be. You didn’t do anything wrong, Gail. You simply depended on the wrong person. Don’t forget, Barry was as much, or more at fault than you were.”

She sighed, and snuggled against him. “I never wanted to tell anyone before. I didn’t think I
could
tell anyone about it. But now that I have I feel—” She hesitated a moment. “I feel good.”

“Me, too.” He kissed the top of her head and held her tight. “There’s one thing that could make us feel even better.”

“Really?” She drew back and gave him a sultry smile. Put her hand on his leg, and slid it slowly up his thigh. “Now, what would that be, I wonder?”

“Keep going,” he said, and sucked in a breath as her hand continued its journey and her lips locked on his. “I’m sure we’ll figure it out.”

Five months later

G
AIL CLUNG
to Jay’s hand, squeezing it as hard as she could as pain rippled through her.

“You’re doing great, sweetheart,” he said, and used his other hand to brush her hair out of her face. “Just a little bit longer.”

“What do you know?” she asked, gasping as the pain ebbed. But another pain swamped her, even as the last one passed.

“All right, Gail,” Dr. Fletcher said. “I want you to push with this next contraction.”

“You—go—” she gasped out to Jay. “I want you to—deliver it.”

“Are you sure?”

She could see his eyes light up even as he asked. She managed a smile. “Yes.”

He kissed her, then moved to join her doctor. Gail concentrated on pushing, and trying to breathe through the pain. She pushed and panted, until exhausted, she lay back. “I can’t do any more,” she wheezed.

“Yes, you can,” Jay said. “The head is crowning. You’re almost there, honey.”

The words worked like a tonic. She gathered herself one more time, and bore down, digging her hands into the sheet and straining with everything she was worth. Jay and the doctor were both talking, encouraging her, she thought, but she couldn’t make sense of it. And then, miraculously, she heard a thin wail, rapidly turning to a full-bodied cry.

She pushed herself up on her elbows. “What is it? I want to see my baby.”

“It’s a boy,” Jay said. Gail lay back and he put the baby in her arms. “We have a son, Gail.”

“Oh, he’s beautiful.” Tears ran down her cheeks as she gazed at her baby, tracing her fingers over his cheek, his nose, his damply curling blond hair.

“Yeah, he is. And so are you,” Jay said and kissed her. “Thank you for my son.”

She smiled through her tears. “You had something to do with it, too.”

“Yeah, but you did all the hard work.”

“Oh, Jay, look. Isn’t he perfect?” She marveled at the small fingers and toes, the tiny nose and rosebud mouth. She’d forgotten how tiny, how precious newborn babies were.

“Perfect,” Jay said, and kissed her again, long and lovingly. “Funny how things turn out that way sometimes.”

Later, when Gail watched Jay put his new son into Roxy’s waiting arms, she thought her cup had over-flowed. Even Mel was awed, leaning over Roxy’s
shoulder and stroking the baby’s hair. A promise that she could hold him next had pacified her.

“What are you going to name him, Mommy?” Roxy asked.

Her eyes met Jay’s and she smiled. “Jason. After his father.”

“Jason Randolph Kincaid,” Jay said. “My son.”

“My brother,” Mel said. “And it’s my turn to hold him.”

Roxy and Mel began to argue.

“Remember what we talked about,” Gail said. “No fighting over the baby. You’ll get your turn, Mel.” She looked at Jay, beaming down at the children. “He’s going to be hopelessly spoiled before he’s a week old.”

“That’s all right,” Jay said, dropping a kiss on his son’s head. “What are families for?”