Flirting with the Society Doctor / When One Night Isn't Enough (36 page)

“I want to do the right thing, Ali. I’m here for you.” He sounded calmer now, too. “I’ll help out. I’ll pay your medical expenses.”

Tears filled her eyes, overflowed down her cheeks. “That’s a great offer. Thanks.”

“Then why are you crying?”

She ran a knuckle under each eye. “Because I cry at everything lately, haven’t you noticed?” “Come on, honey. Tell me.”

He took a step toward her, like he planned to take her into his arms. She held up a hand to stop him.

“In all the years I’ve dreamed about telling the man I love I was pregnant with his child,” she said with a sniffle, “never once did he reply, ‘I’ll help out. I’ll pay your medical expenses.'”

Jared stared at her.

Crap. She’d been fighting it for days, had tried to convince herself she hadn’t fallen in love with him. And in the heat of an argument the words flew out of her mouth before her brain could censor them.

“I lo—”

“Don’t you dare say you love me.” Ali walked to the closet and yanked his coat so hard the hanger flew onto the couch. “It’s an insult to say the words when you don’t mean them just because you think I want to hear them. I don’t. Not from you.”
Liar.
She did want to hear the words, but only if he meant them.

“I have excellent benefits.” She wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. “I don’t need your money. I have great friends, and I’m sure Gramps and Mrs. Meyer will be tickled to babysit. The only thing I’d like you to do is leave. Town. For good.”

“We can work something out.”

“You don’t get it. I don’t want to work things out with
you. I want to get married. I want lots of children, a dog and a house. It was a mistake to spend time with you when you didn’t want those same things.” She held his coat out to him.

“I want you. I want our baby. I’ll even agree to a house and a dog. I just don’t want to get married.”

“Well, I do.” She took a stand, unwilling to settle for less.

“Damn it, Ali, I’m not even out of my last marriage and you’re trying to push me into another one.”

His words sucked all the air from the room, hung between them, an impenetrable barrier.

Married.

Jared had a wife somewhere, maybe children, too. A perfect little family. She was the other woman. Good for sex, nothing more. A stabbing pain speared her heart. She leaned against the closet door in shock, tried desperately to draw air into her lungs.

He wiped his hand over his face, reached into his back pocket and took out a piece of gum. If there was a God, Jared would choke on it.

She stared at him, a carbon copy of the man her father had been at the age of thirty. Handsome. Accomplished. Likable. A lying, cheating, heartbreaking scoundrel.

An adulterer who had no respect for the sanctity of marriage.

“Let me explain,” he said, as if trying to calm a frantic patient.

“You’re married?”

“Technically, yes. But—”

She held his jacket tight to her chest. “There is no technically about it. Either you are or you aren’t.”

“If you’d let me speak—”

“Get out.” She threw his jacket at him. It landed on the floor by his feet.

“Ali, please.”

“Get. Out.”

“Not until—”

“Fine.” She stomped down the hall to her bathroom, on the verge of throwing up. “Stay as long as you’d like.” And she slammed the door behind her. With shaky hands she fumbled to lock both doors then leaned up against the cold, tiled wall and slid down to the floor. Jared, married. She dropped her head into her hands, felt tears fill her eyes. She’d fallen in love with a married man.

He didn’t come after her, didn’t call through the door, didn’t make any attempt to continue their conversation.

Instead glass shattered.

A door slammed.

He was gone.

Jared picked up his jacket from the floor, meant to throw it over the back of the chair, overshot, and took out the glass vase filled with roses he’d brought for Ali. Water spilled onto the table, soaked into the bag containing their uneaten lunch and trickled onto Ali’s hardwood floor. He yanked up the bag, inadvertently clearing the path for the vase to roll, unimpeded, off the side of the table.

He walked to the closet, threw his jacket inside and slammed the door. Now things were a mess literally and figuratively. He opened the cabinet under her kitchen sink, looking for paper towels and found a pharmacy bag. The top had uncurled, revealing a hot pink box.

A pregnancy test. He lifted the bag to the counter, opened it and removed the box. Shook it. The test stick rattled inside. A receipt fluttered out. He glanced at it. She’d made the purchase yesterday. Ali had told the truth, she’d
confirmed her pregnancy some time in the past twenty-four hours.

Curiosity got the better of him. He opened the box, poured its contents onto the bag, stared at the result window. Two pink lines.

“I’m not a liar,” Ali said from behind him.

So focused on the validation of his fatherhood, Jared jumped at the sound of her voice.

Ali picked up the test stick, box and bag and threw them into the garbage. “And if you feel like smashing things, very mature by the way, please do it at your place, not mine.”

“It was an accident.” Not that he expected her to believe him. Credibility was not one of his strong points at the moment.

She walked into the kitchen, wearing a pair of knit slippers.

“Stop. There’s glass on the floor,” he warned.

She didn’t listen. Without another word she opened a roll of paper towels, got down on her hands and knees, and began to sop up the water. He worked around her, picking up the larger pieces of glass.

The roses lay scattered, wet and crumpled on the floor. “Do you want me to try to salvage the flowers?”

“No.”

Of course not. Because they were from him and she planned to get rid of him from her life. Well, she’d better think again. He had no idea how he would go about it, but he planned to play an active role in his child’s life. And Ali’s.

Her stomach grumbled.

“I saved the sandwiches. Go eat,” he said. “I’ll finish up.”

As if he hadn’t spoken, she continued to wipe the floor
with much more vigor than the job required. “Where does she live?”

“Who?”

“Your wife, Jared.” She looked at him like he was an idiot. “Where does your wife live?”

“I don’t know. She left me over two years ago and I haven’t seen or heard from her since.”

Ali’s stomach growled again.

“How about I answer all of your questions over lunch?”

She moved on to drying the chairs. “Do you have any children?” She kept her eyes averted.

Jared let out a breath. This was the way she wanted to do it? Fine. He stepped back and leaned against the fridge. “No. The only child I have is the one you’re carrying.” Despite everything, he felt a growing elation at the thought of being a father.

“How long were you together?”

“After two months of dating, we had a courthouse wedding. Unbeknownst to me, Cici, that’s her name, had a whopper of a drug problem.” That she’d hidden remarkably well during their brief courtship.

“Once she found out I wouldn’t prescribe my new wife the narcotics she craved and I didn’t have the endless supply of cash she thought I did, she made my life a living hell for the two months it took her to max out my credit cards and plan her next move. One day, while I was at work, she packed up the car I’d bought her as a wedding present, cleaned out my entertainment center and my bank accounts and left town.” Swinging by her drug dealer to pay her debt and almost ruining Jared’s life in the process.

“Did you love her?”

He wanted to yell,
Hell, no.
But to be honest, “At the time I thought I did.” Now he knew what he’d felt for Cici
was a mere pittance of affection compared to the depth of his feelings for Ali. A day with Ali was a good day, even if twelve or more of those hours took place at work. Time apart felt empty, wasted and lonely.

“Do you still have feelings for her?” Ali asked, so quietly he almost didn’t hear her.

Contempt. Anger. “You mean do I still love her? No.” He’d love for her to spend time in jail as punishment for her crimes. But, no, he didn’t love her.

“Then why didn’t you divorce her?”

The million-dollar question. “Lots of reasons, none of which matter anymore. After I left Madrin Falls, I instructed my attorney to do whatever he could to expedite my divorce. I hired a private investigator, who found Cici.” In a town an hour and a half north of Madrin Falls, of all places. “She’s giving me some trouble—” worried that if she signs the divorce papers the DEA will find her “—but my attorney assures me in a few weeks I’ll be a free man.”

“I’m happy for you.”

For us. “Me, too.”

“Now the next woman you take to bed won’t have to suffer the pain of finding out you’re a liar, the way I did.”

Bull’s-eye. A direct hit to the gut. He deserved it. “I’m sorry. I should have told you, but in my head and my heart my marriage has been over for years.”

“Yet you’re still legally married.”

“Yes. I have a certificate that says I’m married.” Not until today had he realized how worthless it was. “A lot of good it did me. It didn’t make my wife love me. It didn’t stop her from lying to me, stealing from me or leaving me. A relationship between a man and a woman needs to be based on more than a couple of ‘I dos’ and a piece of paper.”

“I agree. There needs to be honesty and trust. Without them we have nothing. You should have told me, Jared. You should have trusted me enough to explain the situation and given me the chance to make an informed decision.”

“I know. But that night at the bar, everything happened so fast. The thought of leaving without kissing you, without touching you felt like I’d be making the biggest mistake of my life. I’m sorry, Ali. So sorry. But I’m not the only one who wasn’t completely honest. You should have trusted me enough to tell me there was a chance you might be pregnant.”

“After you flipped out on me?” She plopped onto one of the dry chairs, looked down at her feet. “You’re right. I’m sorry, too.”

He brought the sandwiches and drinks over to the table and sat down beside her, nudged her with his shoulder. “We’re quite a pair.” He pushed her plain turkey on whole wheat, no mayo toward her. “What do we do now?”

She unwrapped it. “There’s nothing to do.” She took a bite. “You’ve made it clear you’re leaving. If I remember correctly, your exact words were ‘At the end of the month I’m leaving. Nothing and no one will keep me here.'” She lifted her eyes from her sandwich and looked directly at him. “I’ll take good care of our baby. I’ll be the best mom I can be. You don’t have to worry.”

“I know.” He wasn’t worried, had absolutely no doubt she’d be a wonderful mother. But he wanted the chance to be a wonderful father, to be an important part of his child’s life. To be there to change diapers, kiss boo-boos and read bedtime stories; to experience the first tooth, first steps and first haircut.

After a few bites of her lunch Ali stood. “I’m kind of tired.”

For the first time he noticed how pale and drained she looked. “Are you feeling all right?”

“Just tired.” She yawned. “I think I’ll go back to bed for a while.”

Jared would have given anything to join her, to hold her and reassure her. “I’m going to try—”

“Don’t. I don’t want empty promises like my dad gave my mom. ‘I’m going to try to do better … I’m going to try to come around more often … I’m going to try to send a check for Ali’s braces.'”

“You’re not alone in this,” he said.

“I know.” Posture straight, head high, she gave him a dispassionate look. “I trust and can count on Gramps and Mrs. Meyer, Victoria, Roxie and Polly to be there for me. Goodbye, Jared. And if I don’t see you before you leave, have a safe trip.”

He watched her walk away.

In the two weeks he had left, he’d make it a point to see her, as often as possible. And much sooner than even he expected, because when he returned to his rental he realized his keys were no longer in his jacket pocket. They must have fallen out somewhere in Ali’s condo.

He knocked on her door a good long while with no response from inside. She couldn’t possibly have fallen asleep in the short time it had taken him to travel from her condo to his and back. He recalled how pale she’d looked and started to pound. “Open this door, Ali,” he yelled.

By the time she acknowledged him his knuckles and the side of his fist throbbed.

“Leave me alone,” she called through the door.

“I need my keys. They’re not in my pocket. They must have fallen out.”

She didn’t respond. About a minute later the door opened
just enough for her to slide out her arm. His keys rested in her upturned palm.

Not good enough. He needed to see her, make sure she was okay. “What took you so long to answer the door?” He pushed on it.

She blocked his entry. “Go away.”

Her voice cracked, sounded funny, like her nose was stuffed.

“You’d better step away from the door,” he threatened, fully prepared to knock it off the hinges if necessary. “I’m coming in.” When his push met no resistance, he stumbled forward into her kitchen.

“Next time I won’t open the door at all,” she said, standing defiant in her purple flannel pants and lavender tee, her eyes puffy and rimmed in red, her eyelashes clumped together with tears, the tip of her nose pink.

So she wasn’t as unaffected by her pregnancy and, hopefully his leaving as she’d appeared. And while she had an excellent support system in town, she probably hadn’t revealed her condition to anyone yet. “You look like you could use a hug.”

She turned away, brought her handful of tissues to her nose, but didn’t move.

“I don’t know what the future will hold.” He walked to her. “But I’m here now.” He opened his arms. And almost wept with relief when she turned into them. He stood there, holding her while she cried, caressing her back, afraid the slightest movement in any direction would sever the closeness between them and he’d never get it back.

Ali showed her strong persona to the world. But with him she let down her defenses, shared her vulnerable side. She felt so good in his arms, so right in his life. How could he ever have considered leaving her?