“New York with my parents. They’re going to watch the ball drop tonight.”
She lights up, still pale as a fucking ghost, but her eyes have some sparkle. “Do they know?”
Sucking my lower lip between my teeth, I shake my head. “I haven’t figured out the logistics of this yet. I’m still trying to figure out how to bring another child into my life without sacrificing the relationship I have with the one I already have.”
She frowns as if it’s her fault she’s pregnant. “And you’re trying to figure out how to bridge the fifteen hundred mile gap between your two children.”
I frame her face and brush my lips over hers, inhaling her minty breath. “I’m trying to figure out how to bridge the fifteen hundred mile gap between us.”
“Speaking of us. How’s this going to go down?” She nods toward the stairs.
“They like me. All of them. Your grandfather said it’s so rare to find doctors who make house calls these days, and your dad smiled. I think he’s impressed not only with my suit but also with my bedside manner.”
“Bedside manner?” She quirks a brow. “You sent me a bottle of personal lubricant. My dad thinks it was a watch. He was pissed you didn’t get it engraved!”
I chuckle. God, I love this woman. And there it is—the truth. I love her and it hurts like hell to not know how to be with her. I grin to hide my concern. “Such a wasted purchase on my part. By the time we explored that territory, you were plenty lubed all on your own.”
Her jaw plummets to the ground.
I pinch her cheeks. “There’s my girl. Finally, a little color in your face. Shall we go eat?”
As expected, Grandma eyes me with suspicion. The mood here has changed. I no longer feel like the hero doctor who makes house calls. I feel like the teacher who just got caught with his hand up a student’s skirt.
“How was your hydrotherapy, sweetie?” Ellen’s grandma sets a bowl of broth at the table and eases into the chair next to her.
Ellen smiles, giving me a quick glance. “Grandma, Dr. Hopkins is not really a doctor. His name is Flint. I told you about him and his son Harry. Remember?”
Grandma looks at me. I give her a wink, sitting across from Ellen.
“Oh, why did you say you were a doctor?”
“I didn’t. I said I was here to take care of Ellen. You inferred doctor from that. I didn’t argue.”
Ellen sips her soup and wipes her mouth with a napkin. “Flint is an attorney. He’s good with word manipulation.” She smirks before taking another sip of soup.
“Samuel, he’s not a doctor.” Grandma calls like she wants the neighbors to hear too. “Hydrotherapy is not a real thing. It’s just a perversion.”
“A what?” Samuel either lacks good hearing or needs to turn the TV volume down. It’s pretty loud.
“El-len …” Ellen’s dad calls her name.
She eases up from the table and sits on the arm of his recliner.
“Fl-int?”
“Yes. He’s the guy I told you about.”
“Love … him …”
My favorite blue eyes shift to meet my gaze, and she nods, giving her attention back to her dad. “Yes. I love him.”
I want to pound my chest. The last time I felt like this was the day Harrison came into this world.
Her dad grabs a whiteboard from the end table and writes on it. She reads it, giving me another smile.
“His parents are in New York with Harrison. Flint came to spend New Year’s Eve with me.”
I guess we’re not sharing the baby news yet. It’s a relief since I’m not sure what I’m doing here, except taking care of a sick woman and unborn child. I still don’t know how I’m going to explain this to Harrison without blowing up his world.
Harrison doesn’t like it when I change his sheets or rearrange the furniture in the family room. A baby and a possible relocation will completely overwhelm him. Cage is right, I coddle him. But killing his mother buys him more than the average amount of coddling. Killing his mother means I owe him a life that doesn’t involve turning his world upside down.
“I’m feeling better, Dad. Flint’s not a doctor, but he’s really knowledgeable about herbs. In fact, after your stroke, he used herbs to get me on a plane. When he’s not being completely obnoxious, he’s pretty fantastic.”
I narrow my eyes at her. Fantastic.
*
Ellen
“Well …” I lie on my bed that Flint just stripped to wash my sheets. His household domestic skills are quite impressive. “I think my dad likes you, even though you’re not a doctor.” I grin. “But I’m pretty sure my grandpa still thinks you’re a doctor.” Flint lies beside me, holding my hand. “But my grandma … a hundred bucks says she’s on her iPad right now doing an internet search on hydrotherapy.”
He turns toward me, resting his head on his hand. “And how are you feeling?”
“Like a new woman. I’m still pooped and I haven’t done anything, but I don’t feel nauseous. You and your contraband herbs are my magical unicorns.” I yawn. “But I do need a nap. Why don’t you let my babies out of their cage so they can come cuddle with us for a nap?”
Flint turns his head, giving my babies a look. I doubt it’s a favorable look. “Maybe we wait until tomorrow or the next day when I leave.”
When he leaves. Of course he’s leaving. My brain knows this, but my heart won’t come down from the incredible high over him being here and confessing that he wants me and this baby.
“What’s the plan, Flint? I know you well enough to know that you have a plan. Even if you aren’t sure how you’re going to execute it … you have a plan. You wouldn’t have come here without a plan.”
His forehead wrinkles with deep lines of thought as he reaches over and curls my hair behind my ear. “What if I told you I don’t have a plan? What if I told you I booked this trip last minute after you texted me yesterday about not wanting to be pregnant?”
“Flint, I didn’t mean—”
He shakes his head. “I know you didn’t mean it—at least, I do now. All I knew at the time was you were feeling bad and you have no one to take care of you. So, I just reacted. No grand plan.”
No grand plan. I let that sink in for a few moments. “It’s early. I could miscarry. You just never—”
“Jesus, Elle …” He grimaces.
I rest my hand on his chest. “I don’t want to, I’m just being realistic. I could miscarry. I’ve never been pregnant before. I don’t know how this will go. But I know a lot of women who have had multiple miscarriages. All I’m saying is that I don’t want you to stress out over this right now. You could go home and tell Harry, and if he doesn’t react well, you’ll have put a strain on that relationship over something that may never happen.”
“Something that may never happen?”
I nod.
He sits up, hunched over the side of the bed, fisting his hair. “I need some air. I’ll be back later.”
“Air?” I sit up as he walks away. “It’s cold and snowy outside.”