baby’s father hadn’t been to see his tiny daughter, was still grieving the loss of his wife and couldn’t bear becoming attached to a baby he felt certain wasn’t going to live. Eleanor had called him, told him that she was concerned about Rochelle’s sudden failure to thrive and that she wasn’t sure if they were going to be able to turn the baby’s prognosis around. She’d asked him to come to the hospital, but he hadn’t made any false promises.
“I heard you were still here.”
Eleanor’s heart jerked, slamming hard against her rib cage. She hadn’t heard Ty walk up to where she worked in the small, private dictation room.
“You not talking to me?”
Taking a deep breath, she glanced up from the computer screen she’d pretended to study to keep from looking at him. She wanted to look so badly it scared her. She wanted to throw herself into his arms. Perhaps never having been the center of all that sexy Texan charm would have been better.
“Sorry,” she said slowly, thinking about each syllable in the hope of preventing a stutter. “Just thinking.”
“About Rochelle?”
About anything and everything to keep from thinking about him. But she wasn’t about to admit how much she’d missed him when he’d obviously not missed her, had obviously moved on with his life, with her not having made a speed bump’s worth of difference.
So she told him about the tiny baby girl who she feared had taken a turn for the worse she wouldn’t pull back from. “She’s dropped weight over the past week.”
Ty sank down in the chair next to hers, stretched out his long legs. “I thought she’d pull through. That she was going to be a success story.”
He was so close. Close enough she could smell the spicy clean scent of him. Close enough that his body heat radiated toward her. Close enough that all she had to do was reach out to touch him, to feel his skin beneath her fingertips.
She swallowed. Hard. “Me, too.”
In silence, he studied the baby’s record. “You’ve done everything possible.”
She knew that the very nature of what they did meant they wouldn’t always be successful. “I just keep thinking I’ve missed something, but I can’t figure out what.”
“Maybe it’s more who you’ve missed rather than what.”
Her breath catching in her throat, her gaze jerked toward him. “I haven’t missed you.”
Much.
She’d missed him like crazy.
She’d relived every touch shared between Ty and herself, and had cried more tears than she cared to recall.
“Darlin’, for the record, I was referring to Rochelle’s father.” The corner of Ty’s mouth twitched, but she wasn’t sure if it was with annoyance or an almost smile.
She felt his gaze on her, but she refused to meet his eyes. She just couldn’t. “Oh.”
“But since you’ve brought up the subject of missing me—”
“Perhaps you misunderstood,” she interrupted, feeling sweat pop out on the back of her neck. “I said I hadn’t missed you.”
“Perhaps we should discuss just how much you haven’t missed me.”
“What?” She squinted at him from behind her glasses. “That makes no sense.”
“About as much sense as you avoiding me the past few weeks.”
Maybe she should take pity on him. After all, he had attempted to talk to her a few times in the NICU when their paths had crossed, but his expression had seemed so forced, his conversation so stilted and underlying with anger that she’d wanted cry. So she’d held fast, avoided him, refusing to become just another woman Ty loved and left by beating him to the punch and keeping distance between them.
“I didn’t see you seeking out my company,” she pointed out, knowing she probably sounded accusatory.
“Did you want me to seek out your company?”
Had she?
“No.”
“Would you have granted me your company if I’d sought you out? Because I got the distinct impression that you wouldn’t.” He sighed, took her hand in his and studied their locked fingers. “I’m here to find out if you’re still going to Texas with me next week.”
She’d wondered if he’d want her to, but then had written off the possibility as crazy. Of course he wouldn’t want her there. Not after what they’d done. Not after five weeks of awkwardness between them. When she couldn’t do more than stutter and blush around him.
“I could see why you might want to reconsider our agreement, but I did keep my end of the deal, which means you owe me.”
He really expected her to go with him? Why did that secretly thrill her as much as it scared her? Because she’d missed him and felt desperate for his attention? Lord, she hoped that wasn’t it, but feared it just might be.
“Well,” she began, glancing toward the computer screen and focusing on a random word, “technically, it was a deal between you and my father, but a deal is a deal, so I really have no choice.”
“There’s always a choice. If you don’t want to go with me, I won’t hold you to it.”
That got her attention. “Is that your way of telling me you don’t really want me to go?”
His expression darkening, he shook his head. “If I didn’t want you to go, would I be here talking to you? I want you to go.”
What was one weekend with Ty in the grand scheme of life? She could do this. She’d prove to herself and to him that she could do this and then they’d go back to being just colleagues. Plus, maybe the awkwardness would disappear. “I’ll go.”
“Hey, Dr. Aston?” With a quick rap on the open door Linda poked her head into the dictation room. “I think you’ll want to see this.” Noticing Ty sitting next to Eleanor, she added, “That you will both want to see.”
Silently, they followed the nurse, pausing just outside the nursery.
“Look who stopped by for a visit,” Linda whispered excitedly. “Apparently whatever you said to him when you called made all the difference.”
Eleanor’s heart quickened at the site of Rochelle’s father standing next to his tiny daughter’s incubator. It was the first time he’d seen her.
Ty grinned. “I always did think you were one smart woman, Ellie.”
Her breath caught at the use of the nickname and she found herself wishing she really did take his breath away each and every time he called her that name. Ellie. How crazy that rather than flinching at the nickname, she wanted to grab the moment and hold it close to her heart?
She cleared her throat. “Babies
