In the yard, not necessarily on her man—though Wood had never really been that. He
r man. Their supportive bond had been mostly platonic.
“Elaina?”
She’d heard the front door shut behind him. The sound of footsteps following behind her was rare.
And not just since Wood had married Cassie. Their lives had settled into a routine of her mostly remaining alone in her suite when she was home. She’d been satisfied enough with the arrangement that she’d probably have continued it indefinitely if Wood hadn’t found out Cassie’s baby—his, biologically, from a sperm donation years earlier—required a bone marrow donation. If the two hadn’t had to meet and fallen in love.
She’d like to believe her yearnings and needs, her coming back to full emotional life, needing a child of her own, was all Cassie’s fault for rocking their very stationary boat. But of course, she couldn’t, and it wasn’t.
Turning, she faced Greg, so caught up in memories that she completely forgot the words she’d planned to say.
He held up a folder he’d carried in with him. “I’ve made a spreadsheet of all instances where Martha charted on Brooklyn,” he said. Standing at the table as he opened the folder, he pulled out a piece of paper and laid it down in her direction.
What?
She looked at the paper, glad for the chance it gave her not to meet his gaze. How was she going to tell him that they were going to have a baby?
She couldn’t do it. How did she look at this man who she’d chosen not to be with, and tell him that she was pregnant with his child? And how could she focus on a patient right now?
“You’ll notice that each time Brooklyn was in, Martha scanned medication out for her, and there was no matching scan from Brooklyn’s wristband signifying administration. It’s exactly what we’ve talked about...”
Wait. What? She glanced over at him without considering that she’d be looking him in the eye—an occasion she’d decided it was best to try to avoid. Just until they got through this difficult first step.
The intensity in those golden green orbs stabbed her for a second. Until she took a breath. And a step back from the table between them.
“I...um...didn’t call you here to discuss Brooklyn,” she told him. She’d done the scans he’d requested. Found nothing to warrant a meeting between them. Had charted the lack of change from previous tests.
“Oh.” His blink gave her the chance to look away. She took it. Desperately.
Gratefully.
And wished she’d left them talking about Brooklyn.
“Look, if you’re feeling bad about breaking things off, I’m fine with it. I told you that at the time. I hope my reaching out to you today didn’t make you feel like I was expecting anything.”
“Of course not!” Her gaze darted back to him. “The thought never even crossed my mind! I’m glad you reached out. And was happy to work the scans in first thing...”
He nodded, and she glanced away.
“So...” He moved closer as his voice softened. “What is this then? You want to get dinner or something?”
He was not hitting on her. He couldn’t be. But her lower body flooded with reaction, anyway. For a second there she went with it. Dinner would be so much easier than the item on her agenda.
“Really?” she asked him. If she’d wanted food, she’d have asked for it. Or offered it. He knew her well enough to know that.
But she couldn’t blame Greg for scrambling. In all the months she’d known him, she’d never invited him to her place. And then, out of the blue, she suddenly had, a month after breaking up with him.
“I’m pregnant, Greg.”
Both of his hands slid quietly to the table. He made no other movement. Just stood there. Looking at her.
“I don’t know how it happened. I mean...well...of course...we know how it happened...but how it happened when we...when I...the only thing I can figure is that my device moved before that last time...you know...when we were done and then did it once more...”
And she called herself a doctor? Had a license to practice medicine?
“We?” His expression, the frown, showed confusion more than blame, but...