Reunited By Their Pregnancy Surprise. Louisa Heaton
Couldn’t let her see his Achilles’ heel. She would think him an absolute monster if he started on her about this, and both of them had been through too much just lately. His true reaction would have to wait. Maybe when he was out of hospital they could talk sensibly about this.
So he managed to let out a breath and grasped her fingers tightly. ‘You’re pregnant? Emily...that’s so...’ he forced the word, trying to make it sound authentic ‘...amazing!’
And he pulled her into his arms and clasped her tightly, breathing in the delicious scent of her honey hair and closing his eyes with such intense pain in his heart, hoping that she could not sense his betrayal.
He felt her relax and sink into him, gasping with relief.
* * *
‘You mean it? You’re happy?’ Emily pulled back to search his face, her own riddled with tears, unable to believe that this was true. But true it was. Because Sam was nodding and smiling and happy. And somehow this Sam—this version of Sam who had believed it was two years earlier and they were newly engaged—seemed happy at the idea of becoming a father!
And if he’s happy then...maybe we can be happy too?
She kissed his face without thinking, clutching it with hands that were trembling. She’d been about to leave him! She’d almost packed her things. Had written him that letter. They’d crashed their car arguing over this. It was unbelievable.
His reaction, though welcome, was startling. Now the relief of telling him about the baby had passed without bad incident she began to feel pangs of doubt.
‘Of course I mean it. How could I not?’ He swallowed. ‘How far along are you?’ he asked, with real curiosity.
She smiled, almost shyly, amazed that she was getting to talk to him about this. Normally! Without him throwing a fit and storming out! ‘About nine weeks, I think.’
‘Nine weeks...’ He looked up at her and smiled broadly once again. ‘Still in the first trimester? I guess we really ought not to tell anyone yet.’
‘You could tell your family if you want to.’
Sam shook his head. ‘No, I...I think it’s best we wait until you’re in the fourth month.’
‘Okay. Whatever you think is best. I’m so glad you’re happy about this. I thought—’
‘Thought what?’
She shook her head, as if her answer had been too silly to contemplate. ‘It doesn’t matter.’
This truly was an opportunity, Emily thought, for them to save their marriage. Sam loved her. He seemed happy to be a father. Was there any need to tell him what their relationship had really been like? This might be a chance for Emily to wipe their slates clean and start again.
Although it wouldn’t be a totally fresh start. Because for her the upset of the last few weeks and months was still there. Just because Sam didn’t know, it didn’t mean that she’d forget too. But it might be a start. A way to save them, built on who they had been in the beginning of their relationship. In love. Supporting each other’s hopes and dreams. There had been no need for her to get the suitcase out of the closet.
And what harm could it do? They’d nearly separated, but now...? Now things seemed to have changed. Sam seemed happy about the baby, despite everything, and that was what she’d wanted the most. She’d been granted her wish—only a fool would throw it all away now. She’d been desperate before, when she’d been on the verge of leaving him. But now she was being presented with a second chance.
And, yes, his memories might come back to him and cause them problems later, but what if they didn’t? And if they did—well, Sam was happy to be a dad right now. If they both worked really hard on their relationship, then surely all that was in the past...could be washed under the bridge?
This was a second chance for them, and for the sake of their unborn baby Emily was prepared to risk it.
She’d always fought for their marriage. Had tried everything to save it. What was one last secret?
* * *
The second Emily left his hospital room to head home for the night Sam slumped back against his pillows, exhausted.
A baby...
It was such a huge responsibility. For years. A lifetime. And the weight of that responsibility was not something he thought he could bear.
What had he been thinking, getting Emily pregnant? Had they not been using protection? How had he allowed himself this colossal mistake?
He couldn’t be a good father. Hadn’t he proved himself incapable of looking after a baby? That was why being an OB/GYN was so beautiful. He could keep babies safe at work. Get them through their nine months of gestation as safely and healthily as possible and then make sure that the mother delivered her child without problems.
At the hospital he had a team. He was supported. He had the most recent advancements, tests and medications at his fingertips. Was able to experience joy with the family as he brought new life into the world. Holding a newborn baby...there was nothing in the world like it. It was a privilege. Magical. A brand-new person and he would be the first one to hold it, before he delivered it into the hands of its parents. The elation, the thrill in the room could not be surpassed. And then, once the umbilical cord was clamped and cut, Sam’s job—Sam’s responsibility—was over. He could relax. Let go.
Sam loved delivering babies. Hadn’t he wanted to do that for so long? Hadn’t he delighted in the miracle of birth so much he had made it his vocation? Deciding that because he hadn’t been able to save Serena he could save others?
But after the birth?
No. That was when it could all go wrong. It was why he’d interviewed and hired the best, most elite team of neonatologists and paediatricians for aftercare at his Monterey centre.
He’d vowed never to put himself in that position again, and when he’d first met Emily he’d thought he’d found someone just like him. Someone who loved delivering babies but who didn’t want one of their own.
Wasn’t that what she’d said? Early on? He felt sure that she had. He had a blurry recollection of it.
They’d met in a delivery room. Their eyes meeting across a crowded stirrup. Em had been working as a private midwife and had brought in a couple whose home birth plan had gone awry. As the OB/GYN on call, he’d gone to the room to assist with a Ventouse delivery and had been physically struck by the sight of her beside her patient, clutching the mother’s hand through each contraction, coaching her, intently focused on her.
He recalled a brief moment of wondering who this beautiful new midwife was before he’d got to work, and once the baby had arrived—safely, of course—he had left the room. Only for her to follow him outside and thank him.
I stared at her.
He smiled at the memory. He’d literally been struck dumb. Unable to speak. Her blonde hair had been messy, her cheeks rosy, and she’d been wearing these crazy dangly earrings with turquoise stones that almost matched her eyes. And she’d been wearing flats, so she’d seemed only as tall as his shoulders, and he could remember thinking that she was like an elf.
Eventually he’d managed to get his tongue and mouth to form simple words. ‘You did a great job in there.’
‘Me? No, it was nothing to do with me. You did all the work.’
‘Well, it’s my job.’
‘Yes.’ She’d stared back at him as if she’d been trying to work something out in her head. ‘I love having babies.’
He’d frowned. ‘You have children of your own?’
She’d shaken her head, as if realising she’d said something that she shouldn’t. ‘No! God, no! I don’t want any yet.’
He’d