The Doctor's Pregnancy Bombshell

He thought of the diamond ring in the spare bedroom. The engagement ring he’d bought with all the excitement of a man in love. Because he had been. Was.

Why had he held back? For fear of hurting? Stupid. From the moment they’d met, he should have told her every day how he felt. Had he been open with her, perhaps they never would have grown apart. He should have told her about Cailee and his parents, about his fears of losing a child and how it had led to his foolish decision to not be a parent.

Not caring if she thought him a fool, he cupped her stomach, stroked his palms over the roundness, felt the outline of their baby.

Her cheeks pink, she seemed to want to cover herself, but knew there was no way to hide her burgeoning beauty.

And just so there was no mistake that he touched her as a man in awe rather than as a doctor, he sank to his knees and kissed her stomach.

Beneath his touch, the skin on her belly drew tight, the muscles constricting. She grabbed his shoulder and squeezed, her nails digging through his shirt.

She panted, squeezing harder and harder.

“I really need to push, James. It feels like he’s coming out.” Her pitch grew higher. “Right now.”

“Let me check you.”

Helping her back into the chair, he draped the blanket he’d brought over her waist, knowing she wanted some semblance of privacy.

“For the record,” she said, her contraction subsiding, “I don’t like this and am only agreeing because I swear he feels like he’s right there.”

“You don’t have to like it. It’s only a medical check. The same as if Dr McGowan was checking.”

“Yeah, right,” she said from between gritted teeth.

James spread her thighs and nearly had a heart attack at what he saw. At least, his heart sure felt like it had stopped.

Melissa felt the need to push because the baby’s head had crowned. She was fully dilated and didn’t have time to go to Dekalb, much less Vanderbilt.

“What’s wrong?” She craned her neck, trying to get a better look at his face. “James?”

“There’s no time.”

When he didn’t move, she asked, “You’re going to call the ambulance?”

“They won’t make it in time for the delivery.”

“How do you know?”

“Because I can see you’re fully dilated. A few big pushes and we’ll be welcoming our child into the world.”

“Oh,” Melissa mouthed, fear in her eyes. Another contraction hit. Involuntarily, her back arched.

Without moving away, he dialed for an ambulance.

“Tell me I can push,” she begged, the moment he’d hung up from the dispatcher who’d wanted him to stay on the line, but he hadn’t wanted the distraction. There was nothing she could tell him that he didn’t already know. Unlike with Cailee, he knew what to do.

“Because I need to push,” she continued.

Thanking God for his medical training, James quickly checked the baby’s position. Face down. Not breech, which he’d known from when he’d cradled her belly. Perfect.

He sent up a silent prayer of gratitude.

“Push, but remember to use your contraction to your advantage. Push in conjunction with your body’s efforts.”

“My back is breaking.” Her eyes were feral, begging his for reassurance, for relief.

“I know, babe,” he soothed, “but you’ve got to work with your contraction. Let’s wait till this one passes, and we’ll work together on the next one.”