her skin as her entire body went hot.
She. Was. Pregnant.
FRIDAY MORNING, JOHN sat at his desk on the computer finishing up the last of his administrative work, the thing he liked least about being a department head. If he had his way he’d do surgery every day, but he needed to play fair and share the admin duties with his orthopedic surgical staff.
Out of habit, he glanced at the spot on his desk he’d always looked when in doubt, but it was empty. He’d already forgotten that he’d put the framed photograph of his wife in the desk drawer the previous week. He hadn’t been able to look at her picture without feeling guilty since he’d slept with Polly...even though it had been twelve years since Lisa had died.
He wasn’t a saint, he’d been with a woman here or there over the years, but never had he gotten involved, and he liked it that way. That was, until Polly and this alien desire to get involved. Very involved.
He thought about her every day, relived their lovemaking in his head at the craziest moments, and even though he’d handled everything monumentally badly, he still smiled when he thought about her lively blue eyes, sexy grin, and perky young body.
Polly the people-pleaser extraordinaire.
At thirty-nine he was too young for a midlife crisis, wasn’t he? With his elbow on the desk, he sank his chin into the palm of his hand and looked out the window. Damn, he’d become a moony teenager all over again.
Couldn’t he just apologize to her for being so crass and start over?
Truth was he wanted to, and he’d never thought of himself as a coward...
The tap at the door yanked him from his thoughts. “Come in.”
When Polly stepped into the room, looking tired and worried, something thick and cold dropped in his stomach and she got his full attention. Barely able to lift her eyes to his, she walked toward his desk.
He shot up from his chair. “Are you all right?”
She sighed and sat, finally lifting her gaze to meet his. “Yes, actually, I am.”
He sat, not wanting to be a pushover. “Can you forgive me for being a jerk?” His mouth had gotten a jump on his cool-and-calm plan.
“That depends.”
“On?”
“On how you react when I tell you something.”
Another sinking feeling slithered down John’s throat. What messy surprise was she going to spring on him? Would she tell him she never wanted to be with him again when he’d just realized how much he wanted to know her better? He sat perfectly still, keeping her in his line of vision, waiting for her big announcement. To cover his insecurity, he went the tough route.
“I’m a big boy. Don’t worry about me.” He thought about picking up his pen and pretending to continue to work on his papers, blowing her off, just to show her how absolutely fine he was with however she planned to dump him. Yes, he was a busy, busy man, who would hardly notice if she dropped out of his life.
Liar.
She put her fingertips over her mouth and watched him, as if gauging his true feelings. Shaking her head, she glanced at the floor then back up at him. “There’s no easy way to put this.”
He went still, sensing the heaviness in the room gather into a giant cloud directly over his head. This wasn’t the Polly he knew. This Polly seemed like she’d been steamrollered by life, not the bright young woman she’d been when she’d first arrived at Angel’s...before they’d made love.
Pretty lousy effect you have on women, Griffin.
Okay, he’d made a snap decision. He wouldn’t mess up her life one more day, no matter how badly he wanted to get involved. She didn’t deserve a moody old fart like him.
“I’m pregnant.”
He’d let her go, break it off clean— What?
“You’re pregnant?” He’d checked his lab reports every day and hadn’t seen her results. “And you know this how?”
“I asked Dr. Woods to order a blood test for me.” She raised her hand. “Before you say another word I want to tell you straight out that I will not end this pregnancy. And I don’t intend to give up the baby for adoption.” She looked into his eyes, hers shining from moisture. “I know how it feels not to be wanted...” her voice broke with emotion “...and I won’t let my baby go through that.” She swallowed and sat quietly, obviously trying to hold herself together.
He’d heard everything she’d said. He’d paid attention. Yet he needed to repeat the words, to make them real, and help them sink in. “You’re pregnant.”
“Yes.”
With his hands on his desk, perfectly still, he leaned forward, trying to get his mouth to move so he could ask the question What do we do now? but nothing came out.
“And no matter what you say...” she stared at him out of those determined, teary eyes, having the same effect as reaching into his chest and wrenching out his heart “...I’m keeping this baby.”
His baby. She was keeping his baby. He’d never thought he’d have a chance at a family again. A nugget of hope planted itself in his heart, filling a long-forgotten hole. He almost smiled at the absurdity of how he’d become a father at thirty-nine—from one amazing night in on-call.
Not since his wife had told him she was pregnant had he felt such a flash of joy.
A baby. A family.
But that had been long ago, and six weeks before 9/11. When he’d loved and lost both his wife and unborn child. When he would have gladly given his own life in exchange for theirs.
A jet of fear shot through his chest and strangled the breath out of him. He couldn’t speak as a flashback of the hopeless feeling that had nearly ended his life—and had surely ended his wife and future child’s life—played out in his head. The horror of that day. The frantic need to find her in the rubble. The sinking feeling as reality had put one foot in front of the other and stepped ever closer to ripping his life apart, as it had for so many others. The desperation when hope against all the odds had lost out and he’d found out she’d been killed. That he’d never kiss Lisa again, never hold her, never welcome their baby into his arms.
Oh, God, he couldn’t do this again. He couldn’t bear the pain if anything happened to this baby...or Polly. He’d used up an entire life’s worth of pain and sadness already. He couldn’t spare one more...
“Are you all right?”
Polly’s gentle voice broke through his thoughts. Even when confessing her predicament, she’d put him first. Was he all right? What about her? Was she all right with him getting her pregnant? Of course not! Yet, trouper that she was, she’d come to tell him she was keeping their baby, whether he liked it or not.
He tried to unclench his fists, to act as if he hadn’t just
