“You’re seriously requiring a paternity test?” Her voice rose at the end of the sentence. He’d offended her.
Or at least she was pretending to be affronted. He didn’t see that type of deceptiveness in her. And he’d been wrong before.
He let his silence answer the question for him.
“I can’t believe this,” Elaina finally said, her tone low. Defeated. “You know how insulting this is?”
How embarrassing would it be for her to get the test done in Marie Cove, where the medical community was relatively small?
“You can go to LA,” he said.
“I have no need to go to LA,” she shot back. “Cheryl Miller’s my ob-gyn. I’ll go to her. At seven weeks.” With that, and the sound of tears in her voice, she hung up.
Greg would have liked to feel bad for her, but he didn’t.
Well, he did. But not for asking for the paternity test.
She’d left him no option but to prove to her that she was wrong.
He most definitely was not the father of her baby.
* * *
Elaina didn’t sleep well that night. Past grief and the need to wall herself off to do her job had taught her to get herself to sleep. But she couldn’t turn off the restlessness in her mind. There were no concrete dreams, just a jumble of nonsense situations that she couldn’t remember, but that left her feeling powerless. Upset. And tired.
Not in a good frame of mind to be in the next morning, either. She arrived at work early as always, to find a message. Greg was already there and needed a consult. He’d made the request through the online hospital portal, meaning there’d be an official record of it, and her response to it would be recorded into infinity, as well.
Curbing her first instinct to tell him to go to hell, taking a deep breath against the tears that suddenly sprang to her eyes, she took a sip of her decaffeinated coffee. Then another, before typing her affirmative response. The words were coming out fine. She’d just pretend he was a different doctor she dealt with regularly.
But an hour later, when she presented herself at Greg’s office door, she really just wanted to turn around and go home. Or stop at the dog shelter, adopt a housemate and then go home. She knocked, instead.
The guy was an ass. She was lucky she’d already broken things off with him. Was glad she had. She’d never been so insulted in her life.
What were they? High school students? Like she’d insist she knew the identity of her baby’s father if she didn’t?
When Greg answered his door, standing there in scrubs and his white coat, his hair mussed and striking green-gold eyes loaded with compassion as he assessed her, she forgot how much she disliked him.
And felt like crying instead.
Which was ridiculous.
They’d been friends with benefits. Lovers and workmates. There’d never ever been a hint of anything emotional between them. Not only had there been no commitment, but not even any conversation that could lead to emotional closeness. She’d made sure of it.
So how was it possible for her to feel so...hurt...by his insistence on a paternity test, like there’d been some kind of trust between them?
“How are you feeling?” His question put her hackles up.
“You said you needed a consult?” Standing in the hallway, she made no move to enter his office. As far as Elaina was concerned, they could take care of whatever it was right there. They were in a secure hallway. No one else was around. No need to be concerned about patient confidentiality issues, about being overheard.
“Can you come in?” he asked, stepping back.
Because any other time she would have entered, because for any other peer she would have done as he’d asked, she let herself walk into his space and stood there, doing nothing, as the door closed behind her. Shutting her in alone with him.
Her first instinct was to walk into his arms, lay her head on his chest and let the strangeness between them evaporate. And she fought that instinct with all her might.
She didn’t need to lay her head on anyone’s chest. She wasn’t going to spend her life using other people for her own emotional satisfaction. Even if a miracle happened and she someday fell in love again, she would not allow herself to be dependent on the person she loved. She’d done it with Peter. With Wood. She wasn’t going to spend the rest of her life being that woman.
The boatload of counseling she’d had, some as recently as the previous week, had given her a clear vision of her future plan. Her relationships were to be interdependent. Not codependent.