Читать книгу Triplets For The Texan - Джанис Мейнард, Janice Maynard - Страница 12

Four

Hutch kept his easy smile with effort. Never had he imagined seeing Simone in the state she’d been in when she collapsed. Severe dehydration could even affect the heart. When he’d first seen her, he had actually feared for her pregnancy.

Not only that, he had flashed back to losing Beth. Even though he didn’t want a romantic relationship with Simone again, there was no way in hell he was going to let anything happen to her on his watch.

The stubborn woman had to have been in misery. Yet she’d been determined to power through on her own. She looked a little better now, but not much. He estimated that she had already lost six or seven pounds. Her cheekbones stood out sharply, as did her collarbone.

He touched the spot beneath her ear. “They put motion-sickness patches on you in the hospital. I’ll change those out as necessary.”

“Is it safe?” Her fingers moved restlessly, pleating the sheet.

He frowned. “A hell of a lot safer than collapsing from dehydration. You were in a bad way, Simone.”

“I thought I could handle it.”

“You hate depending on other people for help, don’t you?”

“I don’t like to take help from you.” Tears welled in her beautiful eyes, making them sparkle.

He sat down again, telling himself he had to be the professional in this situation. “I owe you this much, don’t you think?”

“For what?” She couldn’t quite meet his eyes.

“For taking your advice and going to Africa.” He couldn’t help the fact that the words sounded accusatory. When it had become clear that he and Simone were crazy about each other, he had offered to linger in Royal for a few years until she got her ad agency off the ground. He’d assumed she would jump at the offer. Instead, she had broken up with him. She’d insisted she didn’t want to stand in the way of his doing something so important.

Bitter and disillusioned, he had realized that Simone didn’t love him the way he loved her. While he couldn’t bear the thought of leaving her behind, she had cut him loose and bid him a cheerful farewell.

“I did the right thing,” she said stubbornly. “You had a mission to fulfill.”

“And what did you have, Simone?” Suddenly, he felt like a beast for harassing her. She looked fragile enough to shatter. “Forget I said that,” he muttered. “I’m sorry. It’s not important.”

Without warning, a noise from the front of the house had his head jerking up. Surely no one would barge in uninvited. But he had forgotten about Naomi. The style guru/TV star was as much a force of nature as Simone, though in a different package.

Naomi burst into the bedroom, wild-eyed. She barely glanced at Hutch. “Good lord, Simone. What the heck is going on? I just saw you a few days ago. What happened?”

Hutch moved toward the door. “I’ll leave you two ladies alone.”

Simone held up the hand that wasn’t tethered to an IV. “No. Don’t go, Hutch. You might as well both hear this at once.”

Naomi turned to frown at him. “I didn’t know you were back in town. Made yourself at home, didn’t you? I fail to see why you’re in this house. You hurt her enough the first time around. I’m here now. You can leave.”

Simone tried to sit up. “Hush, Naomi. You don’t know what you’re talking about. Ignore her, Hutch. You know how dramatic she can be.”

Naomi’s teeth-clenched smile promised retribution. She sat down on the side of the bed, careful not to jostle Simone. “Fine. What don’t I know?”

Hutch positioned himself at Simone’s elbow. “You don’t have to do this now, Simone. You’re weak and sick.” He worried about her state of mind.

She shot him a look that held a soupçon of her usual fire. “I’m not an invalid.” Reaching for Naomi’s hand, she twined their fingers. “Don’t be mad. I didn’t want to steal Cecelia’s thunder the other night. I’m pregnant, too. And apparently not handling it nearly as well as our newly engaged friend.”

The self-derision on her face hurt Hutch. “It’s not a contest,” he said.

Naomi gaped. “You’re pregnant?” She glared at Hutch.

He held up his hands. “Don’t look at me.”

“Then who?” Naomi seemed genuinely befuddled.

Maybe Simone had been telling the truth about not having a man in her life. That shouldn’t have pleased him so much. Simone tried to sit up again, and again, he shook his head. “Too soon. Stay put.”

“Fine. Anyone ever tell you you worry too much?” She transferred her attention to her shell-shocked friend. “I wanted to have a baby, Naomi. And I didn’t want to wait. So I used a sperm donor.”

“A sperm donor...” Naomi repeated the words slowly.

“Don’t look so stunned,” Simone pleaded. “It’s a perfectly acceptable thing to do.”

“But it’s not something the Simone I know would do.”

Hutch saw Simone’s bottom lip tremble. “That’s enough, Naomi,” he said. “This has been a rough day for her.”

“Sorry,” she groaned. “What’s the matter with her?”

“She’s suffering from extreme morning sickness.”

“I’m right here,” Simone snapped. “And I don’t know why they call it morning sickness. It lasts the whole damn day.”

He and Naomi looked at each other, trying not to laugh. Hutch lifted a shoulder, edging toward the door. “I really do have some phone calls to make.” He looked at Naomi. “Shout if you need me.”

In the kitchen, he prowled restlessly. Neither of the phone calls was urgent, but he had needed some space to clear his head. He already regretted his impulsive decision to take on Simone’s crisis. The odd thing was, she was the one who usually jumped without looking. There was a time when he had admired her joie de vivre and her impulsive spirit.

He’d been the older one, the stick-in-the-mud. He’d often wondered if that was why she broke up with him. Perhaps his overly conscientious approach to life had struck her as boring and pedantic.

It didn’t matter now. If they hadn’t had anything in common five years ago, that was even more true now. Hopefully, her nausea would soon settle down and he could go back to pretending she was just another pregnant woman.

* * *

Simone looked at Naomi. “Help me sit up, please.”

Naomi frowned. “Hutch said that wasn’t a good idea.”

“Are you kidding me? Since when are you in the Troy Hutchinson fan club?”

“I didn’t say I was a fan, but the man’s a brilliant doctor, and you, my girl, look like something out of a zombie movie.”

“Gee, thanks.”

Despite her protests, Naomi stood up and grabbed extra pillows to put behind Simone. “Satisfied?”

Simone closed her eyes. “I’ll be satisfied when I can eat a milk shake and a cheeseburger without puking.”

“Can I get you anything?” Naomi hovered.

“No. Thank you.” Unexpected tears stung her eyes. “I feel so stupid.”

Naomi chuckled. “Well, you should. If anybody was going to knock you up, it should have been that Greek god doctor of yours.”

“He’s not my doctor,” Simone said automatically. “And besides, we’re not anything to each other.”

“Which explains why I found him in bed with you.”

“Don’t be dramatic. He wasn’t in my bed. He was sitting on my bed. There’s a big difference.”

“Not from where I’m standing.”

“For God’s sake, let it go, Naomi. Hutch and I were over a long time ago. And besides, even if I had the slightest interest in rekindling that flame—which I don’t—what man wants to be father to some other guy’s triplets?”

Naomi gaped. The look of total consternation on her face might have been funny if Simone hadn’t felt so wretched. “Triplets?” she said, her eyes round.

“Um, yeah. I guess I forgot to mention that part. I’m having three babies. At least I hope so.”

“What does that mean?”

“It’s still early. Too early to know if all the fetuses are viable.”

Naomi sprang to her feet and paced. “How can you be so damned calm? This is huge. What were you thinking, Simone? You own and manage a thriving ad agency. You have no husband. Why on earth would you do something so crazy?”

Sadly, Simone couldn’t tell the whole truth. Not to Naomi or Cecelia, and certainly not to Hutch. “I wanted a baby,” she said stubbornly. “By the time I got in the midst of everything, I began to have my doubts, but I didn’t back out. I should have, I suppose.”

“Ya think?” Naomi seemed more indignant than flat-out angry. Simone understood, really, she did. If the situations had been reversed, surely she would have expressed doubts about Naomi’s decision.

“I screwed up, Naomi. I know that now. But I didn’t know how sick I could get. And besides...”

“Besides, what?”

“I want them,” Simone whispered. “The babies. All of them. Hutch said it wasn’t too late from a medical standpoint to rethink my position, but I could never do that. I started this, and I’ll finish it.”

Naomi pursed her lips. “I hope it doesn’t finish you.”

Hutch returned in time to hear that last comment. He frowned when he saw Simone upright, but he didn’t say anything.

Simone looked at him. “May I have a drink of water, please?”

“It’s up to you. It would be good if you can manage it.”

With both of them watching, Simone didn’t want to make a scene, but she knew she couldn’t avoid drinking indefinitely. There was a pitcher and disposable cups on the bedside table. Hutch poured one glass half-full and offered it to her. She took it from him, wincing. “Bottoms up.”

With her two observers looking on eagle-eyed, she sipped tentatively. At first, the water tasted amazing. Her lips were partially chapped. The cool liquid felt wonderful in her parched throat. But moments later, her stomach cramped sharply. “Hutch!” She panicked.

He was there immediately, holding a small basin as the water came back up and she retched helplessly. Hutch held her hair. Naomi produced a damp cloth for her forehead. Oh, God. If she had ever felt so humiliated and miserable, she couldn’t remember it.

Hutch didn’t wait for permission. He removed the pillows and helped her lie flat again. “Okay now?” he asked.

She nodded, unable to look at either of them. “I’m sorry to drag you both into this.”

Naomi forced a laugh that sounded almost natural. “C’mon, girl. We’ve been through a lot of rough patches together over the years. Cecelia and I will help. And you’re not poor. That’s a plus.”

Even Hutch thought that was funny, though he quickly turned his chuckle into a cough. It was probably not acceptable bedside manner to make jokes at the patient’s expense.

“Hilarious.” Suddenly, it struck her. “Well, crud. I’ll never fit into a slinky bridesmaid dress.”

Even Naomi didn’t have the chutzpah to pretend that wasn’t true. But she tried to put a spin on it. “Maybe they’ll elope. You never know.”

Hutch spoke up, for the first time sounding more like a doctor than an interested party. “I’m glad you came by, Naomi. I’ll keep you posted if anything changes. Simone needs to rest now.”

Simone wanted to argue that he was being high-handed, but it was the truth. “I should tell Cecelia the news in person,” she said.

“No worries.” Naomi gathered up her car keys and cell phone. “I’ll take care of it. She’ll understand.”

That wasn’t the problem. No one was going to understand unless Simone’s original motive was revealed. Then she was in big trouble. “Thank you, Naomi.”

“Anything for a friend.” With a wave and a smile, she was gone.

In the silence that followed Naomi’s departure, Simone tried to pretend Hutch had left, as well. Unfortunately, he was impossible to ignore.

Simone loved her bedroom, as a rule. She had always found it soothing with its color scheme of pale lemon yellow and navy. It wasn’t too girly.

Today, though, with Hutch in residence, the charming space felt claustrophobic. “How long do I have to have the IV?”

“Until you can take nourishment of some kind. I’ll show you how to unhook and stop the monitor from beeping when you need to go to the bathroom. You’ll have to promise me, though, that you’ll hold on to something and sit down the moment you feel dizzy. Otherwise, I’m going in there with you.”

“Over my dead body.” Her whole body flushed.

He didn’t bother arguing that one.

“You look tired,” she said impulsively.

Hutch half turned, his striking face in profile. “It’s been a tough day,” he said.

“Surely not as tough as Sudan.”

“Tough in a different way. You need to sleep now, Simone.”

“It’s only seven o’clock. Have you eaten?”

“I’ll get something later.”

“Go now,” she urged. “I swear I won’t move until you get back.”

He shook his head, his expression wry. “I’m not sure I trust you. For the next seventy-two hours, you’re my responsibility.”

“What am I supposed to do if I can’t eat or drink or get out of bed?”

“How about a movie?”

“Will you watch it with me?”

His dark gaze made her shiver, despite her weakened state. He closed his eyes, took a deep breath and dropped his chin to his chest. After a moment, he lifted his shoulders and let them fall, then looked at her with a carefully blank expression. “If that’s what you want. I’ll go make myself a sandwich. Here’s the remote. You pick something out and I’ll be back shortly.”

She channel surfed halfheartedly, feeling almost normal for the moment. The pregnancy didn’t seem entirely real. Was that odd? Shouldn’t she feel a rush of maternal devotion? She did have a connection already. She knew life was growing in her womb even now. But those little blips on the screen didn’t have faces and personalities. What if they grew up to be like her?

Eventually, she found a Tom Hanks romantic comedy from the ’80s in the on-demand section. That would do the trick. She and Hutch could make fun of the sappy dialogue. At least that’s what she told herself. Never in a million years would she let him know how much she loved that story.

When he came back from the kitchen, he had his hands full. He stopped in the doorway as if expecting to find her flouting his orders. She smiled innocently. “I’ve been good as gold.”

“That’ll be the day.”

Her bed was a king, so when Hutch parked himself on the opposite side, there was an entire stretch of mattress protecting her virtue. Not that it mattered. Who was she kidding? She’d seen herself in the mirror.

Hutch got comfortable and began to wolf down his meal. Suddenly he looked at her in dismay. “Will the smell bother you? I can eat in the kitchen.”

“No. I’m fine. If you were eating Thai food, it might be different. That ham sandwich is nausea neutral.”

She started the movie, trying not to notice the way Hutch seemed entirely comfortable in her bed. When they had been a couple, she had lived in an upscale apartment downtown, as had Hutch. They’d split their time between locations, some nights in his bed, some nights in hers.

The sex had been incredible, but even more than that was the feeling of rightness... She didn’t know how else to explain it. In the beginning, they had talked for hours. She learned that Hutch decided to go into medicine after an older cousin had a difficult pregnancy when he was in high school. The mother and baby both died. Thus, maternal-fetal medicine became his focus when it was time to specialize.

Simone had been out of college barely a year when she met Hutch. She’d worked for a high-end clothing store as a buyer. Marketing was her passion, though, and she’d spent many hours telling Hutch about her intent to open an advertising agency of her own.

Aside from that, they had, of course, talked about their families. Simone was an only child. Hutch had a younger brother who was studying abroad and hoped to go into the diplomatic corps.

Hutch’s parents were warm and nurturing, whereas Simone’s were strict and cold. Though it was a sad cliché, her father had wanted a boy. But complications during her mother’s pregnancy meant no more children after Simone. No matter how hard Simone tried, she never seemed to measure up to a list of invisible standards.

Perhaps that was why she reveled in Hutch’s attention. Not that she saw him as a father figure. Far from it. The age difference was too narrow for that. But when she spoke, he took her seriously. It was heady stuff.

In her peripheral vision, she could see that Hutch’s attention was focused on the television. Was he really engrossed in the movie? She doubted it. More likely, he was thinking about important doctor stuff.

Unlike Simone’s endeavors, Hutch’s work actually involved life-and-death situations. She teased him about being a saint, but she had never met another man who impressed her so deeply with his work ethic and his compassion.

If he had stayed, they might have ended up married, and Hutch’s involvement with DWB might never have materialized. In Simone’s twenty-eight years, many people in her life had characterized her as self-centered. Sadly, that had probably been true at one time. But at least she had the comfort of knowing that in this instance she had done the right thing.

She had loved Hutch madly, deeply, desperately...but she had let him go.

When the memories stung too sharply, she hit the mute button on the remote and silenced the TV. “I’ve seen this one a dozen times,” she said. “What I’d really like is for you to tell me about Bethany. And about Sudan.”