To Have the Doctor's Baby (13 page)

“Oh, please.” Then she said, “What about their mom? She's not offended?”

“Boys just take it for granted that nothing they say can shock her. Or offend her.”

“Do you blame yourself for your mom leaving the way you do for Todd's death?”

He stared at her and realized that arrow was a two for one. One question, double wounds. Sometimes he hated that she didn't miss much. It led to stuff he didn't want to talk about.

“You asked why I'm waiting for a patient to call and the reason is because when he left my office, I wasn't sure he didn't belong in the hospital. What does that have to do with me?”

Ryleigh angled toward him and hooked her heels on the rungs of the bar stool. “Because I asked about the patient and you started talking about the family.”

“So that somehow turns the situation back on me?” he said.

“Yeah. But let me add context.” She tucked her hair behind her ears. “I had a meeting today with Nora Cook.”

He should have expected that sooner or later his ex-wife and his father's ex-wife would meet. Both were professional women concerned about children. And when they met, it was inevitable that they would talk about the guy they had in common.

“She told you about how I blame myself for Todd's death.”

“Yes. But I don't see why.”

“I was older than him. Stronger. I should have known better. And I swore that I'd never let someone down like that again.”

“It's not your fault, Nick. You didn't give him cystic fibrosis. He encouraged you to meet that girl. Nora said he liked being your wingman.”

He'd heard all this before and it didn't help now any more than it had then. Everyone was a shrink and there was more Psych 101 coming if he didn't shut her down. “Spare me the analysis.”

“What?”

“The part where you say I'm punishing myself. That I can't be happy because I hooked up with a girl and Todd died.”

“No. That explains why you drop everything when a patient calls, even if it's about an ingrown toenail. You won't let yourself be happy for a completely different reason.”

“Which is?” That was an automatic response, and Nick wanted it back because he knew she was going to tell him.

“Your mother left you and your father.” She tilted her head to the side as regret pulled her lips tight. “Why didn't you ever tell me about it, Nick?”

“No reason to talk about something that happened so long ago.”

Pity pooled in her eyes. “Everything that happens in our lives shapes who we are. How did you feel about what she did?”

Emotions churned through him, stirred up by her questions. He didn't want to talk about this, but he recognized something different in her expression from what he'd ever seen there before.

Determination.

This was a new, improved and stubborn Ryleigh who wouldn't let him get away with dodging the question.

“You want to know how I felt when my mother left?”
Frustration and rage he'd thought long buried rolled through him now. “It sucked.”

“I can imagine.”

“No, you can't.” The closet door was open now, and no way were the skeletons going back inside. “You didn't have your folks around as long as you would've liked, but they wanted you more than anything else in the world. You can't imagine how it feels when one day your mother is the glue holding the family together and all is right with the world, and then next day she's gone. No warning. Just outta there. And everything falls apart.”

“You mean your dad.”

“Yeah. And you can't imagine how he felt, either.” Nick dragged his fingers through his hair. “The man worked and took care of my mother and me. He was in control. Strong. Then she left and…”

Images flashed through his mind like a black-and-white parody of misery. His father drunk and not working. Not taking care of himself. Or Nick. Trying to get the man to at least care about something, even if he couldn't care enough about his own son to pull himself together.

“It's not your fault she left, Nick. It's her flaw, not yours.”

It was his flaw now. “I never saw my father anything but happy, then she left and I never saw him happy again.”

“Not even with Nora.”

“Not even then.” It wasn't a question, so she already knew his father's second marriage had problems.

Ryleigh put her hand on his arm. “You're not your father, Nick.”

“I can't argue with that.” He looked at her fingers and desperately wanted to link his with them. He would have, except touching her would destroy the single thread of control holding him together. “But there's no fighting the
DNA hand we're dealt. You inherited your mother's acute need for a child.” So far he'd let her down there. Another sin added to the list.

“And you? What did you inherit?”

The tendency to lose his control with just one woman. Ryleigh. But he couldn't open that door; he couldn't take the chance.

Nick met her gaze. “I learned to never care about someone so much that if she's no longer with me my life will fundamentally change. To the point that I can never recover.”

Ryleigh blinked at him, but the shock from his words never left her eyes. “So you won't let yourself love.”

“That's a fair analysis.”

She swallowed hard once, then pulled her hand away and curled her fingers into her palm. “I guess that's good information to have.”

The look in her eyes said just the opposite. “Why good?”

“Because I always thought there was something about me that you couldn't care about.”

“It's not personal.” The lie was evident when everything in him wanted to hold her.

“Not personal would make it business.” She shook her head sadly. “Now it all makes sense.”

“What does?”

“Being the only doctor available to your patients serves a dual purpose.” She drew in a shuddering breath. “You won't break the promise you made to Todd's memory. That means you'll be there for every health crisis no matter what. And that allows you to keep your personal relationships from getting too deep.” She slid off the stool, then walked to the doorway before looking back at him. “After we met and the relationship burned so bright and hot, I
thought we had cornered the market on happiness. Then things seemed to change and I couldn't understand what happened. What I'd done wrong. Now I see that you pulled back. I'd thought I was somehow the problem. That I was immature and needy and self-centered. Now I just wish that were true.”

“Why?”

“Because blaming myself would be easier than knowing you just can't love at all.” The sadness in her eyes said everything else.

She left and Nick was alone with her emotional arrows still making him bleed. She believed he was a coward who hid behind his patients. He could live with that.

It was better that she didn't know the truth, that he was dangerously close to losing control of his feelings for her.

N
ick couldn't let himself fall in love.

Ryleigh would never have guessed that. Two days after that revelation she was still trying to wrap her head around it.

Ryleigh absently pushed lettuce around her plate and stared at the spreadsheet on her computer monitor. To the casual observer it might've looked like she was eating and working. She was also aggressively avoiding Nick which was actually doing three things at once. It set a high bar for multi-tasking and she should feel better about it.

Her day started out all wrong. She'd gotten used to having coffee in the morning with Nick, but this was the second day she'd skipped it—and him. By getting up before God and out the door when the sun was still thinking about coming up, she'd managed to evade him. It seemed like a good idea. She was still stunned by his personal revelations. And she felt stupid. The last two
nights she'd tossed and turned, wondering how she could have been such an idiot when there were rules governing their arrangement.

She hadn't asked Nick to father her baby to get back together with him. But they
had
gotten close. Sex without ovulation meant they'd wanted each other for no other reason than that. It had meant something to her. Finding out it was nothing special to him and never would be was like getting run over by a truck. Carrying rocks.

She couldn't pretend everything between them was normal and okay. Until she could figure out what to do about it, avoidance seemed best.

There was a knock on her office door and she automatically called out, “Come in.”

The knob turned, the door opened, the world tilted. Nick stood there with a file folder in his hand.

“I've been looking for you.”

Well, damn.
“Hi to you, too.”

He was wearing jeans and a light blue cotton shirt that did amazing things to his eyes. It was just one of his extensive repertoire of sexy looks.
Double damn.

“You left early this morning.” His voice had an edge.

Was he remembering their personal conversation? Wondering how she felt? Had he missed having coffee with her, too? Maybe. But knowing what she knew now, that was nothing more than habit. The way you miss a broken-in pair of sneakers or comfortable, convenient sweatpants.

Ryleigh swiveled her chair and faced him full on. If he was really interested to know why she hadn't been there for coffee, he'd have to ask. “I have a lot of work to do.”

“Is that lunch?” He angled his chin toward the salad plate nestled between the files on her desk.

“As a matter of fact…”

“I guess that explains why you weren't in the cafeteria,” he said, studying her.

So, he really had been looking for her. The thought produced some heart fluttering before she successfully shut it down.

She was too tired for guessing games and just asked, “What do you want with me?”

There was a flicker of fire in his eyes, a clue he'd gone to a double meaning of the sexual kind. Then his mouth curved up. “You have money. I'm here to help you spend it.”

“Of course you are.” Part of her had hoped that he was here to say he hadn't meant that he couldn't care for her in a deeply personal way. She folded her hands and tucked away any lingering disappointment. “So, this is where I clarify something you already know. It's not my money. Children's Medical Charities is in charge. And someone reviews all my recommendations. Before you ask, ECMO is off the table.”

“Why?”

“According to my boss, there's so much need in so many areas, a chunk of change like that should be spread around.”

“It was a long shot anyway.” Nick settled a hip on the corner of her desk.

“What? No argument?”

“No point in wasting energy on a lost cause.”

Words to live by,
she thought. But he was talking business. Ryleigh pointed to the folder in his hand. “Something tells me you have another cause in mind.”

“Plan B.” He handed her the file.

She opened it and saw several brochures from a medical equipment company. Beneath that there was a spreadsheet and cost analysis.

“What's this?”

“HFOJ.”

She groaned. “What did I say about acronyms?”

“High-frequency oscillating jet.”

“I'm guessing we're not talking the big jumbo kind that carry passengers from point A to point B?”

“No.” He grinned. “It's way better.”

“Want to dumb it down for me?”

“Happy to.” He folded his arms over his chest. “It's a respirator that pushes a lot of small fast breaths. Oxygen flows down the outside of the tube and CO
₂
goes through the middle.”

She frowned. “Apparently that's not dumb enough for me. If the oxygen goes down the outside of the tube, how does it get into the lungs where it needs to go?”

“It goes down the outside of the inside of the tube,” he explained. “Then the two gases mix and saturate the lungs.”

“And I guess this is important.”

“It is when a baby is in IRDS.”

“Infant respiratory distress syndrome.” She remembered that one. “What causes it?”

“Infection—either viral or bacterial. Trauma. Car accident or anything else that impacts the chest and lungs.”

“How much does one of these gizmos cost?”

“About thirty thousand.” He met her gaze. “For one.”

She knew him, knew that look. “You want more?”

“Three would be good. Maybe four.” He stood and rested his palms flat on her desk, leaning forward in his fervor. “If we run three jets, even twenty-five percent of the time, it pays to own the machine.”

“As opposed to?” She was desperately trying to ignore how good he smelled.

“Renting. And there's the time factor. If we don't have
one available for a kid, there's a critical delay in trying to locate an oscillator and have the thing delivered. Then we have paperwork before getting the patient hooked up. In the long run the hospital saves money and lives.”

And that right there was why she'd believed deep down that he could care for her. He fought so hard for the kids. She'd just never believed that his passion was exclusively limited to his profession.

“I'm convinced,” she said.

He looked surprised. “Really?”

“Yeah. I'll forward the information to my boss along with my positive recommendation.”

“That was too easy,” he said. “I think I'll hit you up for a new transporter, too.”

“There's no acronym?”

“Nope. Just called a transporter. It looks like an adult gurney with an isolette attached. It has a pulse oximeter, an oscillator and all kinds of cool monitors. We can bring a kid from a less sophisticated facility here for higher-level treatment without sacrificing critical care. Moments after leaving the bed, he's warm, ventilated and monitored. It's like a mobile ICU. Intensive Care Unit,” he added.

“I know ICU,” she said wryly. “We'll see how far the budget will stretch. I already okayed an expenditure for the Cystic Fibrosis Foundation.”

His eyes darkened. “You didn't tell me that.”

It hadn't been relevant information to the conversation they were having at the time. And there was no point now in reminding him of what they'd been talking about. This was business. “How expensive is this contraption?”

“About seventy, seventy-five thousand. A real bargain.” He tilted his head in that coaxing way he had that was even more cute and persuasive than his argument.

“I'll think about it. Anything else you absolutely must have?”

“Of course. But I know I'll just have to wait and hope.” He looked at her now-soggy salad. “Is that all you're having for lunch?”

“Yeah.”

“It's not very much.”

“I'm not very hungry,” she said.
And since when do you care?
she thought. Being sad made her crabby.

“Are you feeling okay?”

He'd noticed her crabby and raised her a dose of considerate. That wasn't fair. “I'm fine. Just busy and a little tired. That makes me cranky.”

“Try surly.”

“If the shoe fits.” She shrugged. “The gala was a success and now it's decision time. So much money to spend, so little time. I won't be able to cook dinner tonight.”

He frowned. “That's two nights in a row.”

“You miss my cooking?”

“It's not that,” he said.

“Boy, was that the wrong answer.”

“Not what I meant. And you set me up.” He pointed a finger at her. “I don't mind eating later. Let me take you out.” He shrugged. “It's the least I can do after you bought me so many new toys.”

He was nearly irresistible like this, but she had to find a way to fight back. “Sorry, Nick. I can't.”

“You have to eat.”

“I will.” She smiled. “Don't worry about me.”

“I've kind of gotten used to it.”

“That's sweet.” She forced herself to smile. “Can I take a rain check?”

“You got it.” He walked to the door. “See you later?”

“Yeah.”

Ryleigh wished Nick had pushed harder to change her mind about dinner but couldn't really say it was a surprise when he didn't. One more push and she'd have been his for the asking. But he accepted a no far too easily. There was nothing in his manner to indicate anything had changed after their bare-your-soul conversation. For him it was business as usual. Business being the operative word. He was fine; she was the one with the problem.

That meant she had to fix it. And that meant distancing herself from him. She had to put herself on a Nick Damian diet. Why was it that the last bite of forbidden food always tasted the best and made you want more?

 

“Ryleigh!” Avery O'Neill opened her condo's front door wider. “I'm so glad you called. Please tell me you brought Cheetos, Fritos, donuts and cookies to go along with my whine. Make no mistake. That word definitely has an ‘h' in it. But I've got the other kind, too. Red or white?”

“Red.” Ryleigh followed her friend through the long tiled entry and into the kitchen, then set the bag of junk food on the black granite countertop.

Avery opened the glass-fronted cupboard door and removed two wineglasses. Then she gasped. “Oh, my god.”

“What? Did you cut yourself?”

“No. I didn't even think to ask. Are you pregnant? Can you drink wine?”

“No,” Ryleigh said, deep disappointment spreading through her. Somehow her consuming desire for a baby had gotten lost in the complicated mess of her feelings. “And give me a bottle of red. With a straw.”

“That's just tacky. You'll have to make do with a crystal glass and normal portion.”

“Oh, the indignities I endure being your friend.” Ryleigh
smiled and it felt good. She had been so afraid Avery wouldn't be home for a spur-of-the-moment junk-food girl fest. What with her emotions all over the map, going to Nick's was out of the question and she didn't want to be alone. “Are you okay without pizza? Or something else in the general vicinity of good nutrition?”

“Get real.” Avery poured red wine into the long-stem crystal glasses. “I'm going to eat my weight in chips and candy. If I consume something healthy, there won't be room for sugar, fat and empty calories.”

“I see your point.” Ryleigh took her wine and the bag of junk food into the family room and settled on the sofa in front of the fireplace. The gas log was lit and the warmth should have cheered her up. It didn't. “So, I'm not the only one who needs to talk.”

“It's just been crazy at work and that's all Dr. Stone's fault.”

“What is Spencer doing now?”

“He's relentless. Every day I walk into work, hopeful and bright, thinking today is the day he's going to cut me some slack.”

“And?”

Avery settled on the sofa and opened the bag of miniature chocolate covered toffee candy bars. They were her favorite.

“Day after day I open my email first thing and there are a bazillion messages from
him
. In every subject line he has ‘Urgent' or ‘911' or ‘stat.' He thinks he's the only one with needs. Every message is a demand for cardiology. He wants more technology or some kind of phaser, tricorder thingy doohickey for the heart catheterization lab.” She opened another candy bar and popped it into her mouth. “You'd think a man like that wouldn't have the time or energy to harass me.”

“A man like what?”

“He sashays around like he's competing for the title of playboy of the Southwest.” She chewed the candy. “Women take a number to wait in line to fall at his feet. He's like a rock star. They practically throw their panties at him.”

“That could be a problem when he's in surgery. Makes it kind of hard to maintain a sterile field.”

Avery looked sheepish. “Slight exaggeration for effect.”

“So, he's not a womanizer?”

“No, he is. But I've never personally witnessed any panty-throwing. However, the rumor does persist.”

Ryleigh grabbed a bag of chips, opened it and set it on the sofa between them. “I'm sorry he's a pain in the neck.”

“You and me both.” Her friend took a sip of wine and there was a knowing look in her eyes when she said, “Tell me what's wrong. And, before you wonder how I know that, it was the ‘I'm not the only one who needs to talk' remark that gave you away. What's going on with you and Nick? You're not pregnant?”

“No.”

“Have you had sex?”

“Yes.”

“Are you worried that you can't get pregnant?” her friend persisted.

“Not yet.”

Avery sighed. “At least one of us is having sex. I wish it was me.”

“No, you don't.”

“Uh-oh.” The other woman opened another candy bar and dropped the wrapper on the growing stack beside her. “That bad, huh?”