“And does he make house calls to each of those pregnant women?”
“Of course not.”
Cecelia rolled her eyes. “Fine. Live in the land of denial while you can.”
Simone felt her face get hot. What would Cecelia and Naomi think if they knew about last night? “I doubt I’ll see much of him. The only reason he was here is that I chose to have my IV at home instead of taking up a hospital bed. He wanted to make sure I was okay. That’s all.”
“Whatever you say, little chick. I won’t harass you when you’re so sick. Still, the day of reckoning will come. Don’t think you can avoid this subject forever.”
That was the problem, Simone thought bleakly. With this Maverick person threatening her, she was always going to have the sword of Damocles hanging over her head. Telling her parents was going to be bad. She knew she had to do it soon. If they got wind of her pregnancy any other way, they might pressure her into marrying the baby’s father. How was she going to explain that the mystery man was no more to her than a control number on a test tube?
Cecelia waved a hand in front of Simone’s face. “Hello, in there. Anybody home?”
Simone took a bite of lasagna and washed it down with tea. “Sorry. I was thinking.”
“About what?” Cecelia said. Clearly, her pregnancy was going well. She ate an astonishing amount of lasagna with no consequences as far as Simone could see.
“I don’t want to make a big deal about this pregnancy. Especially not this early, not when there’s a chance I could miscarry.”
“Lots of people wait until after the first trimester to make any kind of announcement.”
“True. But you know how gossip flies in this town. The fact that I was taken from my office on a stretcher is not a secret.”
“You’ll figure something out,” Cecelia said breezily. She grabbed her sweater and purse. “I’ve gotta run. I’m meeting Deacon for a late dessert.”
“Oh, Cecelia. Why didn’t you tell me? You should have dropped off the lasagna and had dinner with your brand-new fiancé.”
Cecelia’s grin was cheeky. “Don’t be silly. That lucky man gets to eat dinner with me the rest of his life. He won’t begrudge me one evening with a sick friend.”
“I’m doing better, honestly.”
“Good. ’Cause to tell you the truth, Naomi had me worried after she saw you the other night.”
“Let her know I’m fine.”
“I will.” Cecelia hugged her. “I’ll call you tomorrow. Don’t worry about the campaign. You’re the most important thing to me. Love you, hon.”
And with that, Simone’s gorgeous friend blew out the door.
Simone stood at the living room window and watched the car fly down the driveway and onto the main road. Suddenly, she was aware of the crushing silence in the house. No Cecelia or Naomi. No Barb. No Hutch.
He had talked about staying three nights, but she was better now. All her tests had come back with good results. The nurse had removed the IV and packed up all the paraphernalia to take back to the hospital. There was absolutely no reason for Hutch to return.
Life was back to normal. Almost.
Telling herself she wasn’t depressed, Simone took a shower and changed into an old pair of yoga pants and an oversize T-shirt. She’d spent far too much time in bed. She wanted to get outside and breathe the fresh spring air.
Not bothering to put on shoes, she opened the back door and made her way down the steps. Dr. Fetter had said moderate exercise was helpful, so Simone had no qualms about risking the babies. The healthier she was, the healthier they were.
Outside, she perked up instantly. Her gardener was a genius. Flowers and ornamental shrubs and fruit trees met and mingled in a display that was appealing without being too formal. In the center of it all lay a deep, verdant lawn. It reminded her of the quad at college where this time of year she and her friends would toss Frisbees and sunbathe and study when they absolutely had to...
All of that seemed like a lifetime ago.
The evening air was cooler than usual. She wrapped her arms around her waist and meandered aimlessly. There in the corner might be a good spot for a play structure. Swings and a slide and maybe even a tiny house with real windows and miniature furniture inside.
It was fun to daydream, because she wanted to be a good mother. She wanted her children to grow up feeling loved and supported. If she had a boy who aspired to be a ballet dancer or a girl who loved fire engines, she would nurture them and help them follow their dreams.
But what happened when the babies grew old enough to ask about their father? What would she say? Stricken by her own selfishness and shortsightedness, she fell to her knees and covered her face with her hands. The scope and ramifications of her mistake were crushing. How could she ever make this right?