He wanted to tell her that he didn’t care what they thought. The only important thing was her well-being. But he stopped himself. He told himself that he didn’t want to hurt her feelings since she’d arranged for the magazine coverage and worked so hard to make the estate look picture-perfect. He ignored the part about how his admission might convey how much she’d come to mean to him—as a friend, that is.
“Everything is going to work out fine,” he said with a conviction he was lacking because he knew they’d soon be parting ways and—and he’d miss their conversations.
“Ms. DeLuca?” A doctor they hadn’t seen before stepped into the cubicle.
“Yes.” There was a slight tremor in her voice.
Enzo couldn’t help but wonder if she was worried about having to spend the night in the hospital. Before he could reassure her that everything would be all right, the doctor turned to Enzo. The words froze in Enzo’s throat.
“I’m Dr. Costa.” The older man wearing a white coat held out his hand. “And you would be?”
“Enzo.” Suddenly, he felt nervous. What was the doctor going to say? Was there something wrong with Sylvie and that was why a new doctor was here? As the doctor’s eyes prompted Enzo for more information, Enzo found his voice once more. “I’m, uh, Sylvie’s friend.”
The doctor nodded in understanding. “If you could go to the waiting area, I’d like to speak to Ms. DeLuca.”
“I’d like him to stay,” Sylvie said. “He’s never going to believe I’m okay until he hears it from you.”
The doctor’s bushy white brows drew together behind his silver-framed glasses. “Okay, then.”
Would the doctor have asked him to leave the room if nothing was wrong? Enzo didn’t think so. And he wanted to be there for Sylvie to lean on if the news wasn’t good.
The doctor focused on Sylvie. “You’ve had quite a fall and you have a slight concussion. Your other tests came out fine. Are you having any cramping?”
Sylvie’s eyes showed her confusion. “No.”
“Any spotting?”
“Spotting?” Her voice wavered. When the doctor nodded, she said, “No.”
“That’s good.” The doctor smiled at her. “Now, if your friend will step outside, I’ll just check and make sure everything is all right with the baby.”
The breath hitched in Enzo’s throat.
Baby? What baby?
Surely, the doctor was confused. Enzo turned his attention to Sylvie. All the color had leached from her face. Judging by her wide-eyed gaze and her slack jaw, she was as surprised by this diagnosis as he was.
“Just move to the waiting area,” the doctor prompted as a nurse rushed in. “We won’t be long.”
Enzo turned his stunned gaze to Sylvie. He didn’t want to walk away. He had questions. Lots of questions.
He opened his mouth to say something but his voice failed him.
How had this happened?
That was a foolish question. He recalled very vividly how this had happened. Every last sizzling detail.
The doctor cleared his throat, startling Enzo into action. On wooden legs, he walked away. But not far. Not far at all.
* * *
She was pregnant.
It wasn’t as big of a shock as Sylvie had expected.
Maybe because way down deep in her subconscious, she’d suspected it. She just hadn’t allowed herself to admit it. After all, what were the chances that the first time you make love that you would turn up pregnant?
She didn’t think the odds were very high. Leave it to her to be the one in a million. But it explained her symptoms, from her tender breasts, to her upset stomach, to her heightened emotions. And if she were to finally slow down enough to consult her day planner, she’d likely notice that her cycle was late. Inwardly, she groaned. This was the worst timing—the absolute worst.