West Wing to Maternity Wing!(23)

Amy lifted a fork to her mouth. 'So are you going to tell me anything interesting about the First Lady?'

'And break patient confidentiality?' He'd raised one eyebrow at her, in  mock indignation, then bent over and took a bite of his crab, shaking  his head as he quickly swallowed. 'Nope. I'm not going to tell you a  thing. Except she wanted you to use those clothes. Oh, and that she  called me an incorrigible flirt-how dare she?'

Amy laughed. 'Well, she got that right.'

'I do not flirt, I'm just a friendly person,' Lincoln protested.

Amy rolled her eyes. 'Women fall at your feet everywhere, Linc.'

He paused for a second, as if lost in a thought, 'Mmm, not all women. It's only useful if it's the woman you want.'

The air seemed to go silent around them. Amy bit her lip. What did that  mean? Did he mean her? Had she fallen at his feet on the Amazon boat and  he hadn't wanted her to? Or was he talking about now, and how she was  trying to keep her distance? She had no idea what was going on inside  his head.

Amy took another bite of her shrimp, then broke the garlic bread in  half, handing it to him across the table. A little twinge came across  her back. Junior felt as if he was turning around inside her right now.  She crossed then uncrossed her ankles, trying to find a more comfortable  position.

'Everything okay?'

'That's twice you've asked in the last fifteen minutes.'

'And that's twice I've caught you looking at me as if you want to take a  meat cleaver to my head.' Lincoln put his food back on the plate. 'So  spill, Amy, what's eating you?'

'Nothing.'

Lincoln gave a sigh and lifted his glass of root beer, which had  magically appeared at his side. 'So, if nothing's wrong, quit being  snarky. I've had a crappy day at work and I just want to come home and  relax.'

'Snarky? Is that even a word?' She couldn't help it. No matter how hard she tried, the words were practically a growl.

He lifted one eyebrow at her again. It was a habit of his that was  really beginning to annoy her. No matter how chilled she tried to be.

'Amy, I'm only going to ask this once more. What's wrong?'

All of a sudden the gorgeous platter of food didn't seem so appetising.  It looked as if it could catch in her throat and choke her to death.  Worse, she could feel tears start to form in her eyes. Why was she about  to cry? What the hell was wrong with her?

She gulped as one tear escaped and slid down her cheek and she fumbled  for her napkin. 'Nothing's wrong. And everything's wrong. That's just  it, Linc. I don't know what's wrong-I just know something is.'

Within seconds he'd reached across the table and captured her hands in  his. She could feel the warmth from his hands creeping up her arms. Her  hands felt cold, like blocks of ice. Truth be told, her whole body felt  like that.

Another tear slid down her face and she pulled her hand away, brushing  the paper napkin against her face. 'Damn pregnancy hormones,' she  muttered.

'Don't, Amy. Don't do that. Don't blame this on the fact you're  pregnant. We both know it's not that.' His voice cut through the dim  light like a brilliant strobe, making her breath catch in her throat. He  was looking directly at her, one hand now at the back of his head,  pulling at his hair. His frustration was evident.

Silence. She didn't know what to say. She didn't know what she should say. She didn't know what she could say.

In her head it was easy. She was a princess in a pink satin dress,  standing at the top of her tower, and he was Prince Charming on the  white charger below. But she wasn't a child, and this wasn't a  fairy-tale. This was real and in her head the princess wasn't pregnant  with a sperm donor's baby and hadn't suffered from breast cancer and had  a mastectomy. In her head the princess was the perfect healthy, whole,  fertile partner that Prince Charming deserved.         

     



 

Something she would never be.

'You do know she's got a crush on you-don't you?'

'What?' Lincoln looked confused at the change in subject. 'Who?'

'Cassidy Yates, that's who.'

Lincoln shook his head in bewilderment. 'No, she doesn't-that's ridiculous.'

Amy banged her hand on the table. 'Oh, yes, she does! I can see it every time she looks at you.'

Lincoln slammed down his glass, sloshing root beer all over the table.  'And why does it matter? Why does it matter if she does have a crush on  me? Why does it matter to you?'

She could feel her lips trembling and her hands begin to shake. He was angry. She'd never seen Lincoln angry before.

And it knocked the wind clean out of her sails.

He pushed himself up. 'This isn't about Cassidy Yates. This could never  be about Cassidy Yates. This is about you and me, Amy. Don't pretend  it's anything else.'

She could see the fire in his eyes, the pent-up frustration so tangible she could almost reach out and touch it.

Something gripped around her heart, squeezing it tightly. Could she tell  him that she loved him? Could she say that right now she couldn't bear  to be in the same room as him because she ached for his touch? Could she  tell him that she wished she could turn back the clock six years?

No. No, she couldn't. Because Lincoln didn't need half a woman. He  needed a whole one. He didn't need a woman who was carrying someone  else's baby-a woman who would never be able to have any more natural  children. He needed someone else, he deserved someone else. Someone who  could give him children of his own.

But being around him and knowing that hurt like hell.

She had to get of there.

'I can't do this, Linc.' She stood up and slid out from the booth. 'I  can't do this right now.' Her shaky voice grew firm, determined. 'This  isn't a good time.' Her hands rested on her belly. 'I need to  concentrate on this. I need to concentrate on him. Nothing is more  important than this baby. I can't let anything else confuse me.' Try as  she may and no matter how steady her voice was, she couldn't meet his  gaze. One look into those eyes right now and she could crumble.

Lincoln's voice was barely contained. 'So I "confuse" you now? That's  rubbish and you know it.' He came around and stood directly in front of  her, his hands touching her shoulders. 'Tell me, Amy. Tell me how you  feel.'

Her resolve started to shatter underneath her. Tears started to spill  down her cheeks again. 'I don't know. I don't know how I feel. I don't  know if any of these feelings are real, or if they're just a huge rush  of hormones and nostalgia.' She flung her arms out in frustration, then  raised her hands to her temples. She winced as her fingers touched the  sides of her forehead. 'I can't sort anything out in my head right now. I  can't think. I can't concentrate.' She shook her head furiously. 'I  can't get rid of this damn headache!'

Her eyes finally met his. 'I didn't come here for me, Lincoln. I didn't  come here for you. I came here … ' she pressed her hands to her belly  again ' … for my son.'

Lincoln threw his hands up in frustration. He couldn't stand this any  longer. He'd spent the last few days tiptoeing around her. Keeping his  distance-even though it was killing him. Giving her space, giving her  time.

'So this is all about the baby? Nothing else?'

'I can't let it be.'

The heavy silence pressed in on them as they stared at each other in the dimly lit room.

Lincoln wanted to storm out. He didn't need this. Six years of wishing  you could see someone again, talk to them. And this was it.

Someone who pretended things weren't happening. Someone who tried to put  a cap on their emotions. Someone who wouldn't face up to the facts  between them. Someone who wouldn't even give him a chance. Enough was  enough.

The headache was pounding in her ears. The breath in her chest started  to tighten. Zachary started kicking, as if he could feel it too. Her  head was swimming and heat started to creep over her body. What was  this?

Blackness crept into the edges of her eyes. She blinked twice. Had some  lights just gone out? Then panic crept across her chest. Her legs  starting to buckle underneath her. 'Lincoln … '

He looked upwards just as she crumpled to a heap on the floor-too late  to save her from smacking her head on the thick wooden planks. 'Johnny!'

He turned her on her left hand side, making sure her airway was clear  and checking her pulse. 'Get me an ambulance!' His hands fell to her  abdomen, feeling the little life inside pushing against him.         

     



 

He squeezed his eyes tightly shut as guilt engulfed him. This could be a  dozen different things, but he knew right now which one it would  be-eclampsia. The headache, she'd said she had a headache and he hadn't  listened. She'd been checked that morning at the hospital, but this was  new, this was a different complaint and one that could be a sign of  eclampsia. One that should have made him take her straight back to  hospital.

Instead he'd been too self-absorbed. Too worried about developing a  relationship with her that would meet his own needs. Too worried that  she wouldn't tell him how she felt. He'd been angry. Shouted at her,  probably raised her blood pressure.

He'd promised to look after her baby. He'd promised her a safe delivery.

Her body started to twitch. The first signs of a seizure. What had he  done? Lincoln watched as things started to slip through his fingers-like  the grains of sand on the beach.