Total pages in book: 74
Estimated words: 71352 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 357(@200wpm)___ 285(@250wpm)___ 238(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 71352 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 357(@200wpm)___ 285(@250wpm)___ 238(@300wpm)
He swipes it away gently as a smile slides across his lips. “That’s a possibility.”
I don’t know how it’s possible since I’m on the pill and he’s used a condom every time, well almost every time. There was that time when we were in the bathtub in his stateroom on the cruise and he fucked me without a condom, but he pulled out in time.
He moves closer to me. “Your mind is racing. Mine is, too. The first step is for us to find out if you’re pregnant.”
A steady stream of tears falls onto my cheeks. I’m scared. I’m shocked, and I think I’m happy. “Can you get us a test?”
He kisses me softly. “I’m on it. You wait right here.”
I touch his cheek and nod. “I’m not going anywhere.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
Donovan
I dump the six home pregnancy tests I bought on the bed.
Despite the anxiety knitting Delia’s brow, she manages to smile. “I take it you want to be double, double, double sure of the results?”
I laugh, too, but mine is laced with less worry. I’ve had the luxury of fresh air and a walk that lasted almost thirty minutes while I was searching for these tests.
On top of that, I had a brief conversation with a woman when I was paying for one of the test. She was in line in front of me, pushing a stroller with a very boisterous three-year-old in it.
Seeing that little boy and the joy on the mom’s face calmed me down. When she noticed that I was buying a half-dozen different pregnancy tests, she smiled and asked how I was feeling.
I answered honestly.
I’m happy. I’m scared to death. I’m confused, but mostly I’m in love with the woman who is currently wearing one of the T-shirts I had printed up for Premier Pet Care.
Delia Hawthorne is stunning in whatever she’s wearing, but right now with my T-shirt covering her body, and the faintest glimpse of her black panties peeking out from under them, she’s exquisite.
That has a lot more to do with the way she’s looking at me than it does the outfit.
I see every emotion I’m currently experiencing staring back at me since it’s all there in her expression, but I see something else, too. I see courage. I see compassion. I see what I hope is the beginnings of love.
Delia lowers her ass to the bed, not glancing at the tests. “I need a minute before I take a test.”
I follow suit, tugging on the denim covering my thighs. I hurriedly put on jeans and a button-down shirt before I took off. I had to double back as soon as I left the house because I realized I had forgotten my wallet and keys.
My phone didn’t make the journey with me and even though it’s buzzing non-stop on the nightstand next to the bed, I’m ignoring it.
“You should look at your phone,” Delia remarks, jerking a thumb in its direction. “You’re an important man. Someone seems to really need you right now.”
“You’re the most important woman in the world,” I whisper. “Whoever it is, they can wait.”
“Please, get it,” she insists, glancing at it again as it starts to ring. “Please, Donovan.”
Denying her anything isn’t part of my DNA, so although the last thing I want is to interrupt this moment with a phone call, I go to grab it.
I swipe my finger across the screen to take the call from the clinic’s answering service. “Dr. Hunt.”
Delia’s gaze wanders from my face to her tote bag. It’s sitting on a chair that is typically gathering place for my lab coats, suit jackets, and ties. I tend to dump them all there in route to the bathroom that is attached to my bedroom.
I made a point of sorting through them every couple of days to hang up what needs to find its way into my closet. As for the lab coats, I cart them back to the clinic to be dumped into the bin for the laundry service that does pick up and drop off once a week.
I listen while the man on the other end explains a recent call that came in. Since, Matthew is on call tonight, I relay that to him. He’s new. I know that since I haven’t heard his voice before.
“The patient insisted on talking to you, Dr. Hunt,” he says. “I called Dr. Hawthorne and he did reach out to her about her cat, but she called back ten minutes later and told me she had to talk to you.”
She doesn’t have to. I know the cat in question and its very pushy owner. On any night, I would reach out to her myself and explain that whatever is ailing Leroy, her tabby, can wait until morning.
I can’t do that tonight. My life is on the precipice of changing forever. Delia needs every ounce of my attention.