KNEELING ON THE hard stone floor of her bathroom, her head perched over the toilet bowl, her stomach revolting against the piece of dry toast she’d dared to eat for breakfast, Taylor had time to contemplate what she’d done—or rather, had not done—last night.
The words “I’m pregnant” had been on the tip of her tongue. She couldn’t believe she hadn’t spoken them. She would never find a more propitious moment to break the news to Brian that he was going to become a father. But she’d chickened out.
The sharp knock on the door made her jerk fully upright, which unsettled her stomach, so she threw up again. Except she was vomiting with a completely empty stomach. Her eyes squeezed closed as she retched, then spit, then rinsed her mouth with water from the plastic cup sitting on the stone floor beside her and spit into the toilet, and finally, wiped her mouth with the hand towel in her lap.
She had the whole thing down to a handy system.
The door flew open and Brian was standing there, his brow furrowed, a look of worry in his eyes.
She stared at him with trepidation, certain he was going to figure out—jump to the conclusion—she had morning sickness. After all, as he’d pointed out himself, there had been no package of pills in her pocket, and they’d enjoyed plenty of sex in the wilderness.
He merely said, “I was headed to your room to ask you a question and heard you being sick. What’s wrong?”
There it was staring her in the face. Another perfect opportunity to tell him about the whole pregnancy thing. She chickened out again.
“I think it must have been something I ate. You need to leave, or you’ll be late for rehab.”
Instead of making an about-face, he asked, “Have you taken anything for the nausea?”
As long as she kept her stomach full—which sometimes meant eating a peanut butter and jelly sandwich in midmorning, or having a bowl of soup an hour before having a late dinner with Brian—she was spared the indignity of actually throwing up. Not eating overnight was usually the problem. “I’ll be fine. You need to leave.” She wanted him gone before he was treated to the sight of her with her head over the toilet again. Except, it was already too late.
She lowered her head over the bowl and retched again.
“You poor thing.” She heard his crutches clatter to the floor as he dropped to one knee beside her and held her hair out of the way.
When she finished, she grabbed for the cup of water with her eyes still squeezed closed and ran into Brian’s hand.
“Here. Is this what you want?” He pressed the cup into her hand.
She gratefully took it and rinsed and spit. Before she could set it down, he’d taken it from her and handed her the towel from her lap. If he wondered why, when she was sick without warning, she still had a cup of water to rinse her mouth and a towel to dry it, he didn’t say anything.
She sank back and heaved a tremulous sigh.
“All done?” he asked.
She nodded, eyes closed. Just leave. Please. I can handle this better if you’ll just leave.
“I want you to notice I dropped to one knee, without the aid of my crutches, and didn’t fall flat on my face.”
She opened her eyes. He was down on his left knee with his right leg bent at a ninety-degree angle. “Yeah. Yeah. But can you get back up?”
He laughed and shrugged. “If not, we can have a party here on the bathroom floor.”
She couldn’t believe he could make her laugh when she felt so awful. “Go away, Brian, and let me be sick.”
“I thought you were all done.”
It took her a moment to realize that her stomach, at long last, had settled down. “I am.”
“Then let’s get you into bed.” He used the nearby bathroom counter to brace himself so he could get up and reached for one of his crutches to stabilize himself. “It’s my turn to take care of you, young lady.” He lowered the lid and flushed the toilet. Then he set the cup on the counter, threw the towel in the sink, and grasped her arm to pull her to her feet.
Once she was upright, she said, “I want to brush my teeth before I go back to bed.”
He pulled her toothbrush out of the holder and opened the vanity drawer to find toothpaste, and handed both to her, then pulled the towel out of the sink. “Go for it.”
Taylor was wearing a filmy nightgown, but she didn’t think it was going to have much effect on Brian under the circumstances. Except, when she bent over the sink to spit out a mouthful of toothpaste, she was treated to a bird’s-eye view of the bulge behind the placket of his Levi’s.
Brian handed her the towel as she rose, and she met his heavy-lidded gaze as she wiped her mouth.
“You look surprised to see me in this condition,” he said.
“You’ve got to admit, it’s pretty nerdy to have the hots for a sick woman.”
A grin spread across his face, showing off his perfect teeth. “What can I say? I’m the kind of guy who can fall for a woman in a cave full of bat guano and bear scat.”
She laughed. She’d imagined a morning like this—without the morning sickness, of course—where the two of them would laugh together as they started their day. He’d been tender and kind and thoughtful. And funny. That was quite a combination in a man.
She opened her mouth to tell him he was going to be a father. And shut it again.
I’ll tell him when he’s off those crutches.
“Brian, you need to go to rehab.”
“I’ll call and change my appointment for later in the day. Let’s get you into bed. I’ll see if I can whip up some chicken soup to make you feel better.”
“You don’t know how to cook.”
“Maybe not. But I’m pretty good with a delivery menu.”
The only thing that would have made the morning more perfect was if Brian had been well enough to sweep her into his arms and carry her back to bed. She was happy enough to have him thump his way into her bedroom on his crutches and pull the covers up to tuck them under her chin. He finished by kissing her on the brow.
“Just in case you have a virus and not food poisoning.”
She wanted to tell him she felt just fine, that she wouldn’t mind if he joined her in bed. But she had to continue the charade until he knew the secret she was keeping from him.
“I’m okay now, Brian. Really. You should go to therapy.”
He sat down beside her on the bed. “I don’t know what I would have done last night if you hadn’t shown up to help, Tag.” He brushed a strand of hair behind her ear. “Let me return the favor.”
“All right.”
Tag had never had a man wait on her hand and foot for an entire day. Especially one with only one good leg. She fell asleep early in the afternoon, around the time Brian was headed to therapy. She’d been taking a nap every day when he was gone and wouldn’t notice. When she woke up, he was sitting on the opposite side of the bed with his back against a pillow and his legs outstretched on the covers.
She yawned, then said, “I must have fallen asleep right in the middle of whatever you were saying before you left.”
“You did.”
“I’m so sorry!”
“You obviously needed the rest. Are you feeling better?”
Taylor sat up and waited for the nausea to rise. When it didn’t, she smiled and said, “I’m good. Thanks for all the TLC, Brian. I think I feel well enough to get up and make us some dinner.”
“So, not a virus?”
She shook her head. “I feel fine.”
“Good. Then I can do this.”
He put his hands on her waist and lifted her across the bed until she was seated facing him, her legs straddling his hips.
His hand caught her nape and drew her close for a gentle kiss.
“I’ve been wanting to do that all day.”
“But refrained, so you wouldn’t catch whatever I had?” she asked with an arched brow.
“I didn’t because you looked pale and wan.”
“And I don’t now?”
He shook his head. “You look good enough to eat.”
She laughed. “You’re just hungry. You’ve been slurping up chicken soup with me instead of consuming the beef and potatoes you need to get strong.”
“I’m plenty strong. In fact, watch this.” He shifted her off his lap onto the bed, then dropped his legs off the side. She looked for his crutches but didn’t see them. Instead, he reached for something on the floor.
It was a cane.
He shot her a look of triumph as he rose from the bed and stood using only a slender black cane. “Ta da!”
She scrambled off the bed and nearly knocked him over when she wrapped her arms around his waist to hug him.
“Whoa, there! I’m pretty new at this.”
She stepped back but kept her hands on his chest. “How is this possible? Just yesterday you were still on crutches. What happened?”
He shot her a sheepish look. “The therapist’s been telling me for a while that I should trust my leg to hold me. I was afraid to let go of my crutches for fear he was wrong. After last night, I was determined to give it a try.”
He reached out to pull her into his embrace, using both arms.
“Your cane!”
She heard the gravel in his voice as he admitted, “I don’t need it when I’m standing still. I only need it to walk.”
“Brian, this is wonderful! I’m so happy for you.”
Tell him now. Tell him!
But the words got stuck in her throat. It would change everything. And everything was so perfect right now.
“This is just the beginning, Tag. I’m going to walk without this cane. I’m going to get my job back at the fire station. You just wait and see.”
She leaned her ear against his chest to hear his excited, galloping heartbeat. “Brian?”
“Hmm.”
“Does this mean you can drive?”
“I guess it does.”
She felt his body tense, as he realized the ramifications of being able to get around on his own.
“Are you kicking me out?”
She leaned back and looked into his eyes. “I thought you might want to get a place of your own, now that—”
“I don’t. Is that all right?”
She wondered if her eyes looked as conflicted as she felt. What came out was “Sure.”
He kissed her, his tongue inflaming her passion, his arms tight around her, pulling their bodies close.
She didn’t want to push him away, but she knew where this was headed. She wasn’t ready to make love to Brian. Not yet. Not when this terrible-wonderful-awful-amazing secret lay between them.
She tempered her refusal, because that’s what it was, with a hand against his heart and a smile. “I’m hungry. Feed me?”
“A woman with an insatiable appetite. Who knew?” He gave her a quick, hard kiss. “One bedroom picnic coming right up.”
He picked her up just long enough to toss her back into bed, and stuck his cane back on the ground in time to keep himself from toppling over. “Make yourself comfortable. I’ll be right back with some food.”
“Brian. I’m perfectly well. We should eat in the kitchen.”
“Oh, I see,” he said, pulling the covers back over her. “You don’t want crumbs in your bed. Too bad. I’ve been hankering to go on a picnic for months. You’re going to have to lie there and enjoy it.”
“Brian—”
He kissed her to cut her off. “The longer you argue, the longer it’s going to take to get your supper.”
She opened her mouth, and he put a finger up to shush her. “Uh-uh.”
“Fine. I want a hamburger and French fries.”
“You’ve been sick all day.”
“Yeah? Well, I’m fine now. A hamburger and French fries or nothing.”
“A hamburger and French fries coming up. Don’t go anywhere. I’ll be right back.”
She reached down for her purse, which she kept beside the bed and pulled out her car keys. “Brian?”
He turned back, and she threw the keys, which he caught.
“Make sure they’re hot when they get here.”
He grinned. “You trust me with your car?”
“I trusted you with my life. Why not my car?”
His face suddenly sobered.
Her attempt to be flippant had gone very wrong. Instead of making him laugh, it had reminded him of the near tragedy that had brought them to this point. “Be careful,” she said in a soft voice. “I’d hate to have survived what we’ve survived and lose you in a car accident.”
She only realized how possessive that sounded after the words were spoken. She tried to come up with something to say that would lighten the mood, but her heart was pounding and her face was flushed and all she could think of was the moment she’d held him in her arms believing he was dead.
“Just go, Brian,” she said quietly. “I’ll be here when you get back.”
And if that wasn’t an invitation for more than she intended, she didn’t know what was.