Mac likely needed his help cleaning up the mess, and it would be easier for the both of them if they no longer had to tiptoe around each other.
A steady click announced Thorne’s return and he slipped into the room carrying another blanket. Without saying a word, he walked over to the bed and carefully spread it across her legs.
The fabric was surprisingly warm and she burrowed into the heat, fisting her hands in the waffle-print of the weave. She felt like she’d been run over by a truck, and her bruised and battered body welcomed the warmth. It soaked into her muscles, dulling the sharp edges of her aches and pains. “Thank you,” she said.
He nodded. “Is it helping?” His voice was slightly scratchy from disuse, and it brought back another memory from that night—or rather, the next morning, when she’d woken to find him watching her, an unreadable expression on his face. When she'd met his gaze, she’d seen a flash of something she’d sworn was love in his light brown eyes. But it was there and gone in the space between heartbeats, and as she’d watched, he’d thrown up a wall between them.
“I should make coffee,” he’d said, his voice rough with the morning. Innocent words, and yet Maggie had known in that instant the magic they’d shared the night before had not survived to see the dawn.
“It’s not too hot?” His question cut through her unhappy reverie and she blinked to find him staring down at her, his eyebrows furrowed slightly in concern. “The nurse took it out of some kind of incubator. It felt pretty warm to me when I was carrying it.”
“No, it’s perfect,” she said. Time for him to go...
Just as she opened her mouth to suggest he leave, the door swung open to admit her doctor.
“I’ve got test results,” he said, holding up a manila folder and wiggling it in illustration. Maggie nodded and offered him a smile. “That was fast.”
“Lucky for you, it’s a slow day.” Dr. Jenkins wheeled the stool over to her bedside and sat, then glanced at Thorne. “Do you mind if we talk in front of your friend? I’m afraid someone is going to need to take care of you for the next few days, so it’ll be good for him to hear the instructions firsthand.”
Great. Just wonderful. Before Maggie could clarify that Thorne would definitely not be her caretaker, the man in question sat on her bed and pulled out his phone. “Do you mind if I record this so I don’t miss anything?”
Dr. Jenkins nodded. “Be my guest.” Then he turned to look at her. “Okay, so here’s the deal. The CT scan revealed you have a minor concussion and a few cracked ribs. There’s not much we can do about either of those things—you need rest and time to heal. And I do mean rest.” He tilted his head down so he could level a serious look at her over the top of his glasses. “Your brain has been bruised. It is imperative you give it time to heal. That means no reading, no watching TV, nothing that would cause any kind of physical or mental strain. How is your head now?”
“It hurts,” she admitted.
He nodded, as if he’d expected that response. “You can take Tylenol for the pain. Stay away from ibuprofen or aspirin, as they may cause bleeding.”
“What about her ribs?” Thorne asked, leaning forward as if he was hanging on the doctor’s every word.
Dr. Jenkins shrugged. “Again, rest is what she needs.” He turned back to Maggie. “We can’t really do anything except make you aware of the problem so you don’t exacerbate it. I want you to do some breathing exercises a few times a day—I’ll have a respiratory therapist come show you what to do before you’re discharged.”
Maggie nodded. “That doesn’t sound so bad. Why do I need help?”
“Because I’m serious about you needing to rest. You basically need to stay in bed for the next few days—no fixing yourself food, or doing any household chores, or anything like that. The only time I want you up and about is when you’re walking to and from the bathroom.”
“But—” she began, but the doctor shook his head.
“No buts. Besides, I’m pretty sure the OB will tell you the same thing.”
Maggie frowned. “What are you talking about? Why would an obstetrician have anything to say about my recovery?”
Dr. Jenkins stared at her for a moment, as if reassessing her mental status. Then realization dawned on his face, along with a flicker of horror. “Oh, dear,” he said, under his breath. “You didn’t know.”
“Know what?” Maggie’s stomach started to churn threateningly and her heart pounded hard against her breastbone, causing the monitor beside her bed to beep in protest. Dr. Jenkins glanced at it and pressed a button, silencing the electronic noise.
“Ah, take a deep breath for me and try to relax,” he said. He pushed his glasses up on the bridge of his nose and ran a hand through his graying hair, clearly uncomfortable.
“Doctor,” Maggie replied, careful to keep her gaze locked on him and away from Thorne. “Why am I going to see an obstetrician today?”
The older man let out a breath and met Maggie’s eyes, and the sympathetic look on his face set her world spinning.
“Because you’re pregnant.”
Because you’re pregnant.
Thorne heard the doctor’s statement, but his brain refused to comprehend what was going on. He examined the words, looking at each one individually, trying to put them together in some new combination that didn’t translate into an earthshaking announcement. But no matter how hard he tried to search for an alternate translation, he kept arriving at the same conclusion.
Maggie was going to have a baby.
As he came to terms with the news, a question formed in his mind: Was the baby his?
He glanced over at Maggie. Her skin was white as chalk and her eyes were wide with disbelief. Either she was one hell of an actress, or she truly hadn’t known she was pregnant. He saw her mouth move and shook his head to clear it of the buzzing in his ears.
“Are you sure?” she was asking.
Dr. Jenkins nodded and placed his hand over Maggie’s in a kindly gesture. “Quite sure. The fetus was clearly visible on the CT scan.”
Maggie shook her head, as if denying the truth of the doctor’s words. “But I can’t get pregnant!”
The older man smiled ruefully. “If I had a nickel for every time I’ve heard that...”
“No, you don’t understand,” Maggie said forcefully. “I have endometriosis. I’ve had it since puberty. It’s so bad I had a surgical ablation six months ago to help relieve my symptoms. My gynecologist told me I probably wouldn’t be able to have children due to all the scar tissue that’s developed over the years.”
Dr. Jenkins nodded. “I hear what you’re saying. But the scan clearly showed you’re pregnant. As for the how of it, I think the obstetrician will be better suited to answer your questions.
