Bonded Page 8

  The nurse handed her a black-and-white copy of what she’d seen on the screen. Her little crescent. “Here you go, honey.”

  “Thank you, Mary Louise,” she said. “And you too, Dr. Page.”

  The man gave her a brilliant smile and rose from his chair. “Why don’t you get dressed and meet me and Mr. Perez next door in my office.”

  She nodded and watched as they all filed out the door. The gravity of what she was facing was now pulsing through her. Oh, Lord, yes. She would do right by this child. No matter what it took.

  After dressing, she headed for the door, but stopped a moment and took out the picture from her purse. The little crescent stared back at her. Her little crescent.

  Hers and Blue’s.

  * * *

  He hadn’t told her he wanted to come. Hadn’t even asked. A woman’s time with her doctor was private, wasn’t it? And yet . . . today, out there, under that great dome of sky and sun, where he’d always felt like he belonged—the only place it seemed like anymore—he felt angsty. Maybe because it wasn’t where he belonged in that moment. It had taken him an hour calling around, telling every receptionist who answered that he’d forgotten the time of his girlfriend’s appointment, didn’t want her to go through their first doc visit alone. A little subterfuge had procured him a time, a place, and an “Aww, you’re so sweet.”

  “First time, Mr. Perez?”

  Blue glanced up, addressed the man sitting across from him behind the enormous desk. “First time for what, Doc?”

  The man’s brown eyes warmed. “Being a daddy?”

  The question was simple, and so was the answer. And yet, Blue couldn’t get anything to come out of his mouth. Emily was pregnant. That was right. She was going to have a baby, be a mother. He had helped create that baby. But the word . . . Daddy . . . it was just like a knife, cutting a hole inside his chest. Over and over. How could he be one when he’d never had one?

  The door opened then and Emily walked in, looking soft and beautiful in a pale pink T-shirt and blue jeans. Her hair was down, curls touching her shoulders. Would their baby have those curls?

  The question had come hard and fast and without his permission. His gut tightened and he turned back to face the doc. Emily came to sit beside him, and as the doctor talked to her, Blue listened with half an ear. Rest and good diet, blood test important, and she needed to take vitamins.

  “I’m writing down a prescription for a good prenatal vitamin,” Dr. Page said, scribbling away on the pad in front of him. “With your mother’s history of preeclampsia, I want to make sure I’m seeing you every two weeks.”

  The fog in Blue’s brain suddenly evaporated and he jerked to attention. “What was that you’re saying? Pre-what?”

  “It’s called preeclampsia,” the doctor told him.

  “And it’s nothing to worry about,” Emily assured him.

  Blue stared at Dr. Page. “Is it nothing? Doesn’t sound like nothing.”

  “It can be serious if not treated,” the man said. “But we’ll be on top of it. Checking and monitoring Emily’s blood pressure as well as—”

  “Well, damn,” Blue interrupted. “What can happen to her?”

  Dr. Page looked incredibly calm as he sat behind his big desk. “It’s rare, Mr. Perez, but she could develop a blood clot. Seizure or a stroke is also a risk. As well as liver and kidney function issues. But again, we will be monitoring her.”

  Fear was suddenly rushing through Blue like cold water from a hose. He sat forward in his chair. “Are there symptoms? How would she know if something’s wrong if she’s not here?”

  “Blue,” Emily said, cutting in. “I know all about this, what to look for. It’s fine.”

  He wasn’t listening. Not to anything but his fear. “Can it hurt the baby?” Blue pressed Dr. Page. Christ, his entire body was rigid.

  “With the reduction of blood flow to the uterus, there can be some complications, but again—”

  “Like what?” Blue interrupted. “What complications?”

  “Blue,” Emily said, her voice a forced calm. “My mother had preeclampsia and three healthy babies.”

  “Like what, Doc?” he said through gritted teeth, glaring at the man. He knew he was getting worked up, but he just couldn’t stop himself.

  Dr. Page released a breath. “Premature birth, stunted growth—”

  Blue turned to Emily. “You need to stop working at the Bull’s Eye.”

  “What?” she exclaimed, staring at him like he was crazy.

  And he probably was. “Now.”

  “Okay, that’s enough.” She tossed him a warning look. “You’re not going to start acting like a caveman with me, Blue.”

  “And you’re not going to risk your health or the baby’s—”

  “I would never . . .” She stopped, took a breath. Then she turned away from him and stood. “Thank you, Dr. Page. That’s all the questions I have for now.” She reached for his hand, shook it. “I’ll see you in two weeks.”

  “It was a pleasure to meet you both,” Dr. Page said, an understanding smile on his lips.

  “You’ll see me too,” Blue added forcefully before following her out of the office.

  Emily didn’t say a word until she was at her car; then she whirled to face him with eyes that were trying like hell to be calm and understanding.

  “Okay, I know I got a bit nuts in there,” he started with a heavy exhalation.

  “A bit?” she asked.

  “That pre-thing sounded scary as shit.”

  “That’s because you know nothing about it. It’s pretty common. And if I do get preeclampsia, it’s not until later in the pregnancy.” She sighed, her irritation stripping away. “You don’t have to worry, okay? About any of it. It’s all covered. This baby will be fine. I have my whole family looking out for me. My mom knows all about this. I don’t need you—”

  He felt himself go rigid. He looked away. Her words had cut him.

  “Come on, Blue,” she said, recognizing her blunder pretty quickly. “I didn’t mean it like that. All I’m trying to say is please chill out a little. Everything is going to be fine.”

  Fine. Fine. He sniffed. Was it? Christ, nothing had been fine in the past several months. Why should he believe that this would be any different?

  “Look, I need to go,” she said, turning around and opening her car door. “I have work.” Before she slipped inside, she gave him a tight smile. “I’m glad you came. Really. But next time, maybe it’s better if I go on my own.”

  He stared at her, flinched as the door slammed shut. And as the weight of her words sank in, and she drove off into the late-morning sunshine, his guts twisted with pain. It wasn’t the kind of pain that stemmed from a fist to the jaw, but the emotional kind—the kind that came from fear and loss.

  And a moment of hope, shattered.

  Nine

  Emily was in Willy Wonka’s candy factory, running beside the chocolate river. Her stomach growled with hunger and she bent down, scooped up a handful of the cold chocolate, and brought it to her lips. Rich, creamy goodness met her tongue and she groaned.

  More.

  Spotting a mushroom to her right, she leapt at it, digging her fingers into the cream and custard. Nothing tasted so good.

  “Do you like it here, Emily?” Mr. Wonka asked.

  He had appeared at her side. Resplendent in purple and gold. His smile wicked, his eyes gleaming. She nodded enthusiastically. “I wish I could stay forever.”

  “I know, but you can’t,” he told her. “You have a job.”

  She blinked at him, and his face—the one she knew from television—morphed into one she knew from home. From the Bull’s Eye. Rae?

  “If you don’t go back to work,” the older woman said, adjusting the sleeves of her purple suit, “you’ll lose that business space. No flower shop. No future for your baby. Is that what you want?”

  Confused, Emily glanced down. She couldn’t see her feet. Her belly was huge. What in t
he world . . . ? Suddenly, a pain gripped her side, and she cried out and doubled over. She couldn’t breathe. It hurt too much to breathe. Oh God, the baby was coming . . .

  She woke on a gasp. Sitting up, she gripped the comforter and looked around her room. The moonlight was streaming in, and it was raining. Wait. How was it raining with the moon . . . ? She stared at the window. No . . . not rain . . .

  Oh God.

  Not again.

  Wiping the sweat from her brow, she rolled out of bed. Still caught between her dream and this strange reality, she stumbled over to the window. Flipping the lock, she yanked it up and looked out. It was freezing. She stared down at the dark yard below. Where was he? Somewhere in the shadows with his hands full of rocks.

  “Emily?” came a whisper.

  Startled, she jerked her head up so fast she nearly rapped it on the top of the window. No shadows. He wasn’t on the ground or behind the tree deep in the yard. He was right there, in front of her, not five feet away, in the tree.

  “Are you insane?” she hissed, fully and completely awake now. “You’re going to get your neck broken.”

  He stood up—actually stood up—and held on to one thick branch. He stared at her with the cocky confidence of a boy half his age. “I’ve been climbing trees since I was five. Besides, it’s not that high.”

  “I wasn’t just talking about the fall,” she whispered harshly. “My mom, dad, and brothers are just down the hall.”

  His lips twitched. “We’ll need to be quiet, then.” Lips that were, she couldn’t help but notice in the moonlight, bracketed by a couple of days’ worth of beard. Something close to amusement lit his eyes. Unbelievable. “You going to invite me in?”

  “Can I possibly say no?” she asked.

  Those bluest of blue eyes turned serious. “You can always say no, Emily.”

  “Oh my God, this is madness,” she grumbled, but did indeed unhook the screen and step back.

  He moved to the edge of the thick branch that touched the side of the house, then easily swung himself inside, like a flippin’ Tarzan in spurs, into her room. He barely made a sound as he landed.

  “Something tells me you’ve done this before,” she whispered dryly.

  “A lot of trees on the Triple C property. And a lot of time on my hands when I was kid.” He glanced around her room. “I feel a little like Peter Pan.”

  “Well, I was thinking Tarzan—”

  “Oh, I like that better.”

  “This is getting ridiculous, Blue,” she said as she reached for her robe, which was hanging off the side of the bed.

  “I agree.”

  “Then maybe this is your last attempt at entering my house through the upstairs window?”

  “I just want to talk, work out things.” He exhaled. “It’d be much easier if we lived under the same roof.”

  She laughed softly. “True. But I don’t think you’d be welcome here. ’Course, Steven might share his room with you. Seeing as how he owes you.”

  “There’s plenty of room at the Triple C,” he said, not exactly meeting her gaze. “You’ve been there. It’s pretty nice.”

  The smile on her face started to fade. What was he doing? Saying? Something told her he wasn’t kidding around with that suggestion. She stared at him for a moment, taking in his contemplative expression. “You’re not serious.”

  His eyes flickered to the window, then back to her. He shrugged. “Maybe it’s something to consider.”

  Her mouth fell open. “Something to . . . ? What the hell is going on with you? Freaking out at the doctor, coming to my house two nights in a row, waking me up.”

  “Ah, shit, I don’t know,” he said, raking both hands through his hair. “I get that I’m acting nuts, but I can’t seem to stop myself.”

  “I think you need to.”

  His eyes flipped up, scored her. “You’re having my baby, Emily.”

  “No,” she countered, though her insides were revving up. “I’m having my baby.”

  She didn’t want there to be a question about that. It was harsh, but true. But even so, the words had a deep effect on the two of them. Emily retreated, grew quiet and pensive, and Blue left his spot by the window and stalked cagily toward her. She stared . . . at all that six-foot-two, denim really working below the waist, his white T-shirt straining over hard, tanned muscle above. When he came to stand before her, her eyes moved over his tense, yet strikingly handsome face. His eyes were dark blue like the sky just before dusk, and his hair had grown a bit since that night they were together. There was some curl in it. She wondered what it would feel like between her fingers.

  “Make no mistake, darlin’,” he said with a possessive edge to his voice. “I will be a part of this child’s life. It will know who its daddy is. You know what I‘m saying?”

  Staring up into such a brutally gorgeous face, those resolute eyes, Emily lost her breath for a moment. He was talking about his own life, and the father he never knew existed until the man’s death. Yes, this child was hers, would come from her body. But truly, would she ever deny Blue Perez knowing his son or daughter? No. Of course not. For the child’s sake as much as his.

  Then again, she mused, lifting her chin, she wouldn’t be bullied or told what she could and couldn’t do either.

  “I know what you’re saying, Blue,” she told him. “But you better know what I’m saying too. I’m not quitting my job, doctor’s visits won’t be stressful and an opportunity to freak out over your fears, and you can’t keep coming here in the middle of the night.”

  His eyes flashed. “Some women might find that last part romantic.”

  Her belly clenched and she said in an almost breathy tone, “Others would find it exhausting. But you know, you could always go find one of those women.”

  For a couple of seconds, he just stared down at her. Then, his lips curved up at the corners. “I don’t think so.” He brought his hand up and let his fingers brush over her cheek. The pads were rough and callused and the feel of it on her skin made a sound escape her throat. A cross between a moan and a whimper.

  “I thought I’d imagined it,” he said with a soft laugh.

  “What?” she asked, her breath now caught in her lungs.

  “How soft your skin was. How it felt against mine.” He glanced at his hand, fingers. “Rough and worn . . .”

  “I remember,” she said without thinking.

  His eyebrow quirked up and amusement lit his eyes. “Really?”

  “I wasn’t the drunk one, remember?”

  “I wasn’t all that drunk,” he protested, then brushed his thumb over her cheekbone. “Or hell, maybe I was. For a few days, I actually thought it was a dream.”

  “A good dream?” she asked, foolishly. Because, really, how horrible would she feel if he said—

  “The best.”

  Her breath caught. Her eyes held. Lord Almighty, how was it possible that they were standing in the middle of her bedroom, lights off, moon spotlighting them, just a few hours before dawn? It was crazy. And yet, she felt utterly, wistfully happy for the first time in weeks. Well . . . happy and sexually charged. Her heart jumped into her throat. If he kissed her, and things progressed . . . as they did . . . would they end up on her bed? Her childhood bed?

  “I know the moving-in thing was stupid,” he said, his gaze so charged, so intense. “I’m just trying to figure things out, Em, you know? I want to be around. You. I need to.”

  For a split second, her mind conjured an idea, a very depressing idea. He wants to be around you because of the baby. Only because of the baby. Then her ears pricked up as she heard movement down the hall. Someone was going to the bathroom.

  Panic seized her and she broke from his grasp, the moment lost. “You have to go,” she whispered.

  He didn’t move, didn’t even look worried. “Why?”

  “I hear someone.” She pointed at her door. “In the bathroom.”

  “I’m not afraid of your brothers or your parents,
Emily. They’re going to need to get used to seeing me around.” He shrugged. “Especially if we’re not moving in together.”

  Oh, she was so not in the mood for his jokes. “Go,” she whispered, grabbing his arm and pulling him toward the window. “Please.”

  “Fine,” he said, ducking down and climbing out the window. “But think about what I said. I want to see you. Be there.”

  She heard the water running in the bathroom. “Go, Blue.”

  For a second, she thought he was going to protest, maybe even climb back inside. But then he slid onto the branch, and, like a monkey, easily climbed down. Her heart in her throat and her insides still warm with awareness and longing, Emily watched him cross the lawn, then get into his car and drive away.

  * * *

  The cold night felt good on her skin. It attacked the fire that raged inside her. The woman—that waitress—she just couldn’t do it, could she? Keep away from Blue. Didn’t she have enough? A nice home, two parents who loved and cared about her?

  Natalie sneered as she watched the window she’d just seen Blue escape from. And she believed it was an escape. Why would he be there when he loved me? Wasn’t right. Clearly, it was time to act. Make a new friend. It would be nice to have a friend. It had been a long time. Of course, they never stuck around very long. Maybe that was her fault. She had a lot of faults. Blue had seen her faults.

  A light clicked on in the woman’s bedroom. It was the only light on in the house. Maybe she was thinking. Feeling guilty about taking what didn’t belong to her. Maybe she couldn’t sleep. Natalie knew how that was. There was forgiveness and understanding—and help—within her heart.

  She could help Emily Shiver sleep.

  Pulling her coat closer around her, she continued to watch the light. It was an hour before she left the shelter of the old playhouse and made her way home.

  Ten

  Sweat poured off Blue’s face, and he grabbed a bandanna from his pocket and mopped things up. He’d just come from feeding, and another try at the fence, and was now cleaning out one of the Triple C’s guest room closets. He’d picked the nicest room—lots of light, an apple tree outside the window, nice pale yellow paint on the walls. And it was the closest room to the one he’d lived in his whole life. Well, up until recently anyway. It wasn’t for Emily. He shook his head, recalling that crazy, desperate moment he’d had last night. Moving in with him . . . Christ, the woman barely knew him. No, the room was for his child. Granted, it might be a while before anyone stayed in it. But he needed the distraction—the action. To do something. Offer something.