New York City Docs. Tina Beckett

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scrubs back into place, she turned toward him with a smile. “I certainly didn’t see that in the residency tips manual.”

      He relaxed, surprised at how tense he’d been a second ago.

      “Didn’t you?” He smiled back. “I’m sure I saw it listed somewhere in there. Maybe in the FAQs.”

      She came over and lifted her hands to his face, rubbing her thumbs along his cheeks. “Thank you for not freaking out about everything. I’m sure it’ll be fine.”

      Oh, he was freaked out, all right. He was just good at hiding certain things. Sometimes even from himself. Surely they could work something out. Especially now.

      “What did Dr. Powers say about the festival—about training? Did you ask her?”

      “We don’t even know if I’m pregnant yet, but she said there shouldn’t be any problem as I’ve been doing the workouts for years. Sitting at home and doing nothing would be the worst thing I could do. I just need to make sure my core temperature doesn’t climb too high.”

      “Good to hear. And if you do end up pregnant—” he leaned against the desk “—we’ll figure something out. I can help with expenses—”

      “No.” The hands on his face went still and then fell to her sides as she backed up, her smile fading in a second.

      “Tessa…” His patience dried up just as fast. “I’m not asking. I’m telling.”

      “Excuse me?” Her eyes turned to frost. “If I am pregnant—and if I decide to keep it—I can take care of the baby on my own. With no help from anyone. Not you. Not your parents.”

      A reference to them paying her tuition? That was just damned ridiculous. That was years ago, and Tessa had done a great job proving she could do a lot of things. But taking care of a baby while tackling the crazy hours that went along with residency? Why would she, when people were willing to pitch in and lend a hand? Besides, it was his baby, too. And his parents would want to know that they were about to become grandparents again.

      “Why are you being so stubborn? You’re still doing your residency, for God’s sake.” He tried for a more conciliatory tone. “Let’s meet for dinner and talk about this.”

      “I’ve said all I’m going to say.” She ran her fingers through her hair, no longer looking directly at him. “I won’t keep the baby from you, if there ends up being a baby. But I don’t want any financial help.” This time she did look at him. “Please, Clay.”

      Anger washed over him, reminding him of all those fights they’d had in the past. Nothing had changed. She was still as unreasonable as ever. He put his hands up. “Have it your way. I guess I’ll see you at practice this afternoon.”

      “I guess you will.”

      With that she opened the door to his office and strode out with an air of confidence. As if she hadn’t just been sprawled across his desk.

      He slowly walked around and picked up the items he’d scattered in his haste to have her, shaking his head. She might not be willing to let him help her but that didn’t mean he had to listen to her.

      And if he couldn’t help her directly, he could always help their child, if there was one.

      Surely she wouldn’t stop him from assuring himself the baby had the chance for a bright future.

      He plunked the pencil cup back onto his desk and sat down to come up with a plan.

      One not even Tessa could refuse.

       CHAPTER TWELVE

      SHE COULDN’T CONCENTRATE.

      No matter what she did, Tessa couldn’t seem to get the upper hand on Clay during practice. They’d come to a kind of uneasy truce over the past week and a half, coming to practice and performing in a way that even Marcos seemed happy with.

      Only not today.

      Because her period was late. It was to be expected that her system would be messed up, as she’d stopped taking the Pill, so one day was no national tragedy. But she couldn’t shake the feeling there might be another reason behind it.

      If so, what was she going to do? Neither of them had spoken about the issue since that day in his office, and they certainly hadn’t slept together again. But there was a nagging sense of disquiet inside her. If she was pregnant, she was going to have to let him know. It was only right. He was bound to find out, even if she tried to hide it from him. And then all hell would break loose.

      And rightfully so.

      She’d told him she wouldn’t try to keep the baby from him, and she wouldn’t.

      But what that would entail she had no idea. She didn’t want him to start back up with the gifts… with always needing to take care of her.

      She misjudged a jump and slid sideways, falling to the mat. For the third time today.

      “Tessita.” Marcos clucked his tongue. “What is wrong?”

      “Nothing.” Her voice came out a little too shrill, making both the studio head and Clay look sharply at her. Hell. If she kept this up, she might as well hold up a sign and let everyone know: I missed my period, and I’m terrified.

      Clay touched her arm. “You okay?”

      The words were said with such compassion that her eyes stung. Blinking quickly to rid them of the sensation, she went back into the “ready” stance. “I’m fine. Let’s try it again.”

      “I think maybe that’s enough.”

      And so it began. “Clay, I said I’m fine.”

      Everyone else in the studio had already finished, and Marcos had sent them home so he could work with just the two of them. So there was no beat to drive her forward, no supportive murmurs from the circle of participants to help center her.

       Just keep telling yourself that, Tessa. You know it has nothing to do with that.

      Maybe she should let Clay help her. Not financially, but emotionally. There was nothing smothering about that. If she was pregnant, Molly would be this child’s half sister. And Megan and Frank Matthews would certainly want to see the baby from time to time. It was selfish to think she could cut Clay’s parents out altogether.

      And her own dad would want to help, as well. They both had busy schedules, but that could change. This would force them all to slow down. To rely on each other.

      It wasn’t charity. It was a village raising a child. Wasn’t that the right way to go about it? She had to believe it was.

      Yes. She would talk to him about it after their session was over. Abre a mão—open her hand—as Brazilians liked to say and compromise just a little bit.

      As long as he didn’t go overboard, they should be fine.

      She

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