My Fake Husband by Black, L. (lightest ebook reader .TXT) 📗

buried her face in her hands and turned away from me. A doctor came in and looked at me like I was doing something wrong. I climbed off the gurney and sat in a chair, aggravated and worried.

“Good news is I can give you the all-clear today. No ill effects from the gas exposure and your blood count numbers are good. The bad news is, your math is wrong. Your estimate of four or five weeks… looks more like eight or nine weeks to me,” he said. “Do you have an OB appointment yet?”

She sat bolt upright, shook her head, eyes wide.

“OB appointment?” I asked, my eyes flicking from the doctor to my wife.

“I have one for Friday morning,” Trixie said weakly.

“The nurse will be in to give you discharge instructions. Keep taking your vitamins and get plenty of rest,” he said. Then he left.

I was back on the bed in an instant.

“OB appointment?”

“I’m so sorry, Damon,” she said, and started crying again.

“Trix?”

“I’m pregnant. I found out in Savannah. It’s why I didn’t call you. I couldn’t tell you on the phone. I didn’t want you to find out this way. You’re mad, I get it. But I didn’t mean for it to happen, I swear I’ve been on the pill this whole time. I didn’t—do this on purpose. To trap you. I know how it looks.”

“How it looks? It looks like you’re pregnant and you were afraid to tell me.”

I swept her into my arms, her palm on my shoulder blade, holding on tight. I kissed her and kissed her.

“God help me, I thought you were leaving me. Were you leaving me?”

She shook her head, “I don’t understand. Aren’t you done with me?”

“I thought you were done with me,” I said. “That all you wanted was a fling and you were over it.”

“I’m not over it. Not by a long shot.”

“Good, because neither am I. I’m taking you home,” I said.

25 Trixie

He held my hand all the way home. He took me into the house and locked the door. Then he was pressing me up against it, kissing me. All I could do was hold on and suck his tongue deeper in my mouth and admit to myself how much I’d missed him, how much I’d missed this connection with him.

“I should’ve told you,” I gasped. “I’m sorry.”

“Are you still dizzy?”

“No, why?”

“Because I’m about to put my mouth between your legs and I don’t want you to fall.”

My whole body clenched at his words, at the naughty promise in them. I felt liquid and trembling at once.

“Then you better take me to bed. It’s safer,” I said archly.

We were in his bed in no time, Damon peeling off his uniform and stopping every few seconds to kiss me again.

“How could you ever think I wouldn’t want our baby? That I would blame you or be mad?” he asked. “What did I do to make you think that?”

There was anguish on his face. “What you said about Brody, about never wanting to be in his shoes. You never want to be a father, never want to be in that position. I was going to tell you in the car from the airport and you said that. I’m not blaming you; I’m saying that made me see clearly that—”

“That I’d rather die than lose a child, than lose you. I didn’t say it right, or you would’ve known that what tore me up, besides worrying about Laura, was the fact I kept seeing you, your face drawn with pain and fear, sick and in danger of losing our baby. It was the worst nightmare I could imagine to face that. Because what I want more than anything is you, a family and a life as your husband. I’ve loved you for so long, Trix. I should’ve told you months ago.”

“Why didn't you?”

“Every time I came close, I thought of what I had to lose. Because even being your fake husband, watching movies with you, making dinner together, I didn’t want to give that up or ruin it if you didn’t feel the same way. Once you waited up for me that night and I’d had you—I would’ve done anything to keep you. If it meant pretending it was just a fling, just for fun, I could do that if it meant I had you in my life and in my bed. I was a coward, Trix. Forgive me.”

“So was I. I was an idiot. Even my sister told me you wouldn’t be mad that I’m pregnant, but I wouldn’t listen because I was so—chicken,” I blurted out.

“You’re my chicken,” he said, and kissed my forehead. I laughed.

Then I stopped laughing abruptly because he was stripping off my leggings and sliding warm hands up my shirt, big palms and long fingers along my rib cage and up, up, fondling my breasts, making me catch my breath. He pushed up my shirt and kissed my belly, looked up at me with wonder in his eyes.

“I am the luckiest man. I should send your shitty former landlord a fruit basket to thank him. I never would’ve gotten you if it weren’t for the bad plumbing in that building.”

“You’re right—you are an idiot. You could’ve had me anytime you wanted me.”

“Anytime?”

“Anytime. That day you came in to get flowers for your sister… the night in the bar when you touched my neck. I swear, I panicked. I think if you’d so much as kissed me I would’ve come right then.”

“Let me see,” he said mischievously. His fingers skated up the side of my throat, curved behind my ear and then back down until he sucked my neck. I shivered.

“Why’d you tell them your name was Owens at the hospital?”

“Because I thought once you found out I was pregnant it’d only be Vance for about another forty-eight hours. You’d leave me. I’m sorry I thought that. I was wrong. I just panicked. I wasn’t thinking straight. I know you’ve never been anything but kind