“I do,” he reiterated. “Completely.”
“You were married.”
He stilled. Watching her, he said nothing. Maybe wishing he could take back his words. Or hoping she hadn’t drawn the conclusion she had.
Oh Lord. Leave it up to her to inadvertently choo
se and then need to contact a sperm donor who hadn’t at one time been head over heels in love with his wife.
Their whole meeting was oddly...odd. Her rambling on about her parents. Him...saying things he probably hadn’t meant to say. It was like they had started talking and forgotten who they were talking to—virtual strangers.
Except for the baby they had in common. One that might be in a fight for its life.
Might be. Her baby could be just fine. Or could just be anemic.
She thought of Wood’s original question. Why she’d chosen to be inseminated.
“I’m thirty-four,” she suddenly said, somewhat inanely. She was just so damned...not herself around him. Felt more...vulnerable.
Having spent her adult life open to dating, but never finding a man who captivated her, she didn’t know what to do with that.
“It might sound trite, but biological clocks really do tick. Chances for birth defects increase with a woman’s age, and statistically, that means that I run more risk after I turn thirty-five. I left it as late as I could, factoring in the probability of having to go through the process more than once.” She shrugged. “I got lucky there. It took first time.”
But there she was, still facing a possible birth defect.
Dropping his burger to his plate, he met her gaze, holding on as though he was holding her up somehow, as though with a mere look he could infuse her body with strength. Which was ludicrous.
And yet...happening.
“What day is the test scheduled for?”
Yep. There they were. Putting it right out there where she had to face the possibilities—and deal with the panic that hit her every time.
“Wednesday.”
“What time?”
“Eight.” She’d taken the earliest appointment. So she could still make it to her office for a full day’s work.
And so she didn’t have to deal with a full day of anxiety and lack of focus leading up to it.
“I can take you, if you’d like. Since none of your support system is aware that it’s happening.”
“I’m sure you have to work.”
“I do have doctor appointments of my own now and then,” he told her. “My crew will be okay if I’m a couple of hours late. They’re good guys.”
He seemed to want to take her to the appointment that she was dreading more than any other she’d ever been through.
“What do you do for a living?” she asked when she couldn’t make herself tell him that she’d be fine on her own. He’d said “a day job.” She couldn’t remember exactly what. And she really would be fine on her own.
She would be. She just needed a minute.
“I’m still in construction.”
His profile had said so. “Framing, right?”
He picked up his half-eaten burger. “Yes.”