Foolish Expectations (20 page)

“The bleeding you’re experiencing is due to your monthly cycle. There is no pregnancy, and as far as I can tell, there never was. At least not recently.”

Closing her eyes, Bailey rubbed at her temples. “What? That’s not…possible. It doesn’t make any sense. I
was
pregnant.” She pointed at Nash. “Ask him. He was with me when I got the results. And this wasn’t some home pregnancy test I did. I went to a doctor who confirmed it through bloodwork.”

“Yes, Nash told me. But that doctor’s clinic is currently being investigated for three counts of malpractice, I’m afraid. All of which were due to faulty test results.”

What? No.
This had to be some kind of sick joke. Her heart hammered against her ribcage. “B-but I missed my last period….and I even had morning sickness.”

“Since you weren’t my patient, and I didn’t see you at the time, I can’t say for certain what caused the symptoms. My best guess is that you may have had some sort of viral stomach bug or possibly food poisoning. Nash told me you were also going through a divorce at the time. Stress can lower your immunity and that, especially combined with an illness, has been known to cause women to miss a cycle.”

Unable to believe any of it, she shook her head again. “No, it’s just…not possible.”

“Mrs. Sutherland, if you want, I can run more tests and check your bloodwork again, but I’m certain I’m not going to find anything that will change the outcome. You aren’t pregnant.”

“No, I…” Lightheaded, she swayed in place as a wide range of emotions swam through her. Confusion at how this could happen. Sadness over a child who had apparently never existed. Anger at the idiot doctor who led them to believe a baby was in their immediate future.

And then something else took hold. A debilitating fear rooted itself deep in her belly, shaking her from the inside out.

Nash.

He’d only married her because they’d thought she was carrying his child. Now that he knew she wasn’t, would he want a divorce? No. Surely, he wasn’t thinking that. He hadn’t said a word—or even looked at her—since they’d returned to the room, but he had to be as shocked as she was and still processing it all.

Elbows on his thighs, Nash continued to stare at the tile floor with his fingers clasped tightly together between his legs. The anguish over losing a fictional child showed plainly on his grim face, casting a dark shadow.

In just a few short weeks, they’d experienced the same joys most expecting parents were gifted. The delight in picking out their baby’s first gender-neutral outfit. The surprise in announcing the news to the grandmother-to-be. The pride of talking about their child’s future hopes and dreams. Maybe to the doctor, the pregnancy had never existed, but to the two of them, the baby had been real…even if only in their hearts.

This isn’t right. It isn’t supposed to be like this.
A stray tear dripped onto her cheek, and her body vibrated with the rage of injustice. “I just…want to go home.”

Dr. Stevenson nodded. “I’ll send the nurse in with your discharge papers.”

Once he left, thick tension and cold silence filled the room.

She would have given anything for Nash to put his arms around her and tell her everything between them would be okay. To lift his gaze and give her the connection she needed now more than ever. But he didn’t.

Instead, he sat back and crossed his arms, keeping his eyes from meeting hers as they waited for the nurse to come in. Once she did and the release documents were signed, Nash rose immediately and held open the door, as if he couldn’t wait to get out of there. But as they made their way out to the parking lot, he still didn’t speak.

When he reached for the passenger door handle, Bailey touched his shoulder. “Nash, say something.”

He paused and closed his eyes, as if it pained him to speak. “I can’t. Nothing I say will change a damn thing.” He pulled open the door for her, then paced around to the driver’s side, climbing behind the wheel.

Bailey winced, but tried not to take his gruff tone personally. He was angry and hurt. She understood that. Hell, she was upset, too. She was still having a hard time believing any of this had happened.

Maybe they both just needed some time to come to terms with it. Talking about it now while their emotions were running high and ricocheting all over the place wouldn’t benefit anyone. There would be plenty of time to figure things out once the shock wore off.

But as she slid into the truck’s cab, heated to a suffocating degree by the midday sun, she couldn’t help but notice the chill in the air emanating from her husband. His expression held no emotion, no feeling. Just emptiness.

Had all of this been for nothing?

No. She didn’t believe that. Not after she’d allowed herself to fall in love—

The thought struck her with such force, she gripped the edge of the seat to keep her body from pitching forward. She loved him?
Oh God! She did!
She’d gone and done the one thing she’d set out to avoid from the beginning.

I fell in love with my husband.

Head lowered, Nash gripped the steering wheel with both hands until his knuckles turned white. “I’m sorry,” he said in a hushed tone. “I didn’t mean to take it out on you. I don’t know how to express what I’m feeling right now. I was just getting used to the idea of being a…” His words cut off and he shook his head, as if he were still in denial.

Bailey’s heart broke for him.

She knew how much he’d wanted the baby from the beginning and had no doubt he would have been an amazing dad. Nash had always been the steadfast and strong one, so seeing him like this gnawed at her very soul.

She didn’t want to push him. When he was ready and able to talk about it, he would. Until then, the only thing she could do was deal with her own feelings of loss in private to keep from adding to his agony and wait for him to open up. Then she’d be there for him. If he needed her to be the resilient one right now, then that was exactly what she’d be…for
him
.

Because she loved him.

Also because she refused to believe that the one thing that brought them together would be the one thing that would tear them apart. She couldn’t lose him now. Not when she’d already invested her heart. They would get through this and come out stronger for it. They had to.

And she would make damn sure of it.

Chapter Twenty-Four

Without turning on any lights, Nash eased the bedroom door open and entered the room. Once his eyes adjusted to the dark, he quietly kicked off his boots, setting them down lightly to keep from disturbing Bailey, then stripped out of his shirt and tie.

She sat up in bed and rubbed her eyes. “Nash, is that you?”

“Yeah, it’s me.” He peeled off his slacks, which left him standing there in only his boxer-briefs. “Go back to sleep.”

“Where have you been?”

Damn it. Here we go again.
“I worked late,” he said, trying to keep his annoyance in check. “I told you I wasn’t going to be home for dinner.”

“Yes, but it’s almost midnight. I was worried.”

He cringed, guilt eating at his conscience with a sharp fork. “Sorry. I should’ve called. I just had…things to take care of at the office.”

Her silence reeked of confusion and irritation, but he didn’t want to tell her he’d been meeting with the medical malpractice attorney in charge of handling the three—
soon to be four
—malpractice suits for the moronic doctor who’d given Bailey false test results.

It’d been two weeks since Dr. Stevenson had given them the news that Bailey wasn’t pregnant, and he hadn’t seen her cry once since leaving the hospital. It was like she was in denial or something. The moment they’d arrived home, she’d resumed her life, as if nothing had happened.

He’d expected her to have a mental breakdown. Especially after uprooting her entire life to marry a complete stranger, all so they could raise a child together…a child who didn’t even exist. But she hadn’t.

Instead, she cooked, cleaned the house, painted her toenails, watched that stupid soap opera he’d turned her onto, and had even taken up a fondness for bubble baths. He just didn’t get it. Why was she acting so strange?

Hell, maybe she was still in shock. Lord knows, it had taken him a few hours to get his head screwed back on straight after hearing there was no baby. But by the time he’d worked through his own feelings, Bailey had planted a stoic expression on her face and asked him what he wanted for dinner, as if they hadn’t just been given the worst news possible.

After three days of the same behavior, Nash finally consulted a psychologist who agreed Bailey’s actions were consistent with someone who refused to accept the loss they’d suffered. Then she’d issued Nash a warning. The shrink had compared Bailey’s actions to that of sleepwalking and said forcing his wife to come to terms with her grief before she was ready might do her more harm than good.

So instead, Nash set out to do the only thing he could. Take the bastard doctor who’d misdiagnosed Bailey to court and get his medical license stripped from his ass permanently. Only he couldn’t mention it to Bailey. At least not yet.

Once she accepted she wasn’t pregnant and worked through the fog of mourning that would accompany such a realization, only then would he show her the solid case he was building against the asshole doctor. Until then, he’d have to keep quiet.

“Nash, are we…okay?” Her voice crumbled.

“Hey,” Nash said, sliding into the bed next to her. He cupped the back of her neck and stared straight into her moonlit eyes. “We’re fine. It’s just that I…”

Damn it.
He couldn’t tell her. Not fucking yet.

But the look on her face gutted him. He had to do something to erase the worry from her eyes and calm her fears. “Come here.” He pulled her into his lap, wrapped his arms around her, and buried his face into her coconut-scented hair. “Everything is fine. I swear.”

She held herself rigid in his arms, as if she could sense he was lying to her. Then she pulled back and frowned, burning him with dark eyes that begged him to tell her the truth. “Nash, please…”

I’m sorry, baby. I can’t.

So he did the only thing he could do. He kissed her.

He only meant to comfort her—possibly even distract her a little—but the moment he fastened his mouth over hers, a familiar longing moved through him. It was like coming home again. God, he missed touching her like this.

Clad in only panties and a tight halter top, her plump lips parted timidly and his tongue swept inside to tangle with hers. She pressed her soft body into his and shivered, her nipples puckering against his chest.

Feeling the fervor of her response, Nash’s cock hardened beneath her, surging upward, prodding at the barrier of her clothing. Had she been naked, his dick would have slipped into her with ease.
Fuck.

Was it too soon? Would she think about the baby? The last he wanted to do was upset her or force the realization on her. Maybe he should stop before things went too far.

 He broke the kiss and gently set her away from him. Restraint in the bedroom was never something he’d had much of when it came to her, but he would rather gouge his eyes out with a hot poker than do anything that might hinder her healing process.

But Bailey didn’t seem at all pleased with the maneuver. The corners of her mouth drooped and wary eyes flickered over him, as if she took the rejection personally.

Without a word, she reached out and pulled down the front of his boxer-briefs, freeing his rock-hard dick. “Since
this
obviously isn’t the problem, why don’t you tell me what is? Why do you keep pushing me away?”

Sonofabitch.
That wasn’t what he was doing. He wanted to tell her he was trying to help her, that he was doing what was best
for
her. But damn it, he couldn’t. “I’m tired, okay? Let’s just go to bed—”

Without warning, she fisted his dick.

Oh God.
Nash bit the inside of his cheek. “Bailey…”

Instead of answering him, she dropped her firm lips over his hot flesh, sucking vigorously.
Fuck.
He closed his eyes, reveling in the sensation, but didn’t dare move. His control was already slipping and any motion on his part would only encourage him to do what he truly wanted, which was to yank those black panties down her legs and plunder her with various parts of his anatomy.

He resisted the desire to tangle his fingers in her silky hair, fought the urge to thrust upward into her velvety mouth, denied the impulse to flip her over and shove his dick where he wanted it most. But when she dragged her lips to the base of his shaft, allowing the head of his cock to rest snugly against the warm, fleshy part of her throat, and then swallowed around it, he knew he was screwed.

All control flew out the window.

Grasping her by the arms, Nash hauled Bailey up his body until she straddled his waist, and then gripped her hips roughly, grinding her against his aching length. He jerked the halter top over her head and tossed it aside. Then his insistent hands were on her, covering her breasts, while gently rolling her distended nubs between his fingertips.

She moaned and arched her back, thrusting her chest out even more, and he couldn’t stop himself. His tongue darted out, bathing her nipples with long strokes of pleasure, while his hand traveled farther south.

His finger hooked into her panties, pulling them to the side, before positioning himself against her wet heat. She squirmed over him, as if waiting for him to thrust up inside her, but he didn’t. Instead, he dug his fingers into her waist and grunted as he pulled her down hard onto his cock.

She moaned so deeply, he felt the vibration inside her.

His hand moved, caressing over her smooth skin until he found her. His fingers scissored around her clit, squeezing with just the right amount of pressure. Her inner muscles molded around him, clamping down on him, and her hips involuntarily flexed. Then she whimpered.

Leaning forward, he claimed her mouth once again. His erection swelled as she began to grind with purpose, undulating her pelvis slowly in a mind-blowing rhythm that was as torturous as it was pleasurable. He groaned, then grunted in frustration as he strained to hold himself still and let her have control, riding him at her own pace.