“No.” Ryder reaches over and squeezes my hand.
I let him keep holding it. The connection feels fragile yet so precious.
If I just throw caution to the wind… Could this turn into something more?
I’d like to believe it. My lips still tingle when I think about the way he comforted me in my office yesterday. And I loved the way he held me in the theater room last night, his breath tickling my neck and his hand on my arm, skin to skin.
Elliot asked me why having Ryder’s trust mattered when we were only marrying for a year. Maybe it’s because I’m afraid. Afraid that if I’m not careful, I’m going to fall in love with a man who doesn’t have that high a regard for me.
Ryder is the only man who affects me like this. And it started even before we began talking about the marriage. He can drive me crazy, irritate me until I want to kick him, but then he makes me laugh just as easily or turns my insides soft with his sweet gestures. And when he looks at me these days, it’s as though I’m the only woman for him, as if all the other women before me have crumbled like pillars of salt and blown away in the winds of his memory.
And his kisses heal the wounds left by the ugly comments better than anything.
I turn my hand so I can squeeze him back. He pulls it to his mouth and kisses the knuckles.
“What’s that about?” I ask.
The smile he gives me is so brilliant, my heart flutters. “Just because.”
* * *
Ryder
The first word that pops into my head when we step into Dr. Silverman’s office is “soothing.” The sage green and creamy yellow colors are remarkably calming. Instead of posters about dangers of this or that disease, the walls have prints of modern art.
I approve. If the doctor is as good as the office décor, the concierge fee I’m paying for the clinic will be money well spent.
The receptionist leads us into the private area where we can see the doctor right away. In her forties, Dr. Silverman is skinny. Her appearance isn’t remarkable, short with an average face and mouse-brown hair. Her outfit is also predictable—a white lab coat over a conservative coral tunic and black skirt.
Lines around her warm green eyes crinkle when she smiles. Paige relaxes, and right then and there, I decide I like the good doctor.
She gives us a friendly nod. “Paige. Mr. Reed.”
“Call me Ryder,” I say. Mr. Reed is what people call Dad.
“Of course.” She gives me a polite smile and turns to some charts.
I appreciate the professionalism. After the intros, she doesn’t spare a single extra glance my way. Her focus is entirely on Paige and the baby.
“If you don’t mind, let’s see what’s going on.”
There is some drawing of blood, a bunch of scans. The doctor checks Paige’s ankles and hands and feet, making notes.
I wait, feeling superfluous. Dr. Silverman is thorough and obviously knows her business. Finally, Paige lies on a bed and arranges her clothes to reveal her belly.
“Come closer.” Dr. Silverman gestures at me. “We’re going to look at the baby. Don’t you want to see?”
I swallow. I came with Paige for moral support, but didn’t expect to see the baby. She hasn’t shown me a single ultrasound image.
I drag my ass over and position myself so I can hold Paige’s hand and look at the black and white monitor. The doctor spreads some kind of gel over Paige’s stomach and runs a wand over it.
At first I don’t see anything except some white lines and dots all over the monitor. I’m not sure which one of them is supposed to be the baby. Then the image settles into a black hole and a tiny bean-shaped dot inside it.
“Isn’t it sweet?” Dr. Silverman says. “That’s your baby. It’s fine and healthy in there as far as I can see.”
I blink. That tiny life is the reason why Paige agreed to marry me in the first place. It was the cause for both of our scares when she bled.
The doctor measures the baby and makes notes on how far along it is. It seems impossible that she can do that with something that small inside Paige, but well… I guess that’s medical science for you.
“Everything’s on track. I don’t see anything to worry about. Six weeks and five days. Perfect. Let’s see if we can hear the heart beat.” Soon I can hear loud and rapid whoosh-whoosh-whooshes.
“What is that?” I ask, while Paige’s jaw slowly slackens.
“Your baby’s heartbeat.” Dr. Silverman looks at the measurement. “Let’s see… One sixteen per minute.”
“It’s so…fast,” I say in awe. Paige’s hand tightens around mine.
“It’s actually pretty normal.”