Dr. White's Baby Wish (16 page)

‘That's what the doctors told me. Didn't help at all.'

That was when he'd changed careers; she'd bet on it. Wrapping her arms around him, she held him tight, feeling the ripples of anguish shaking his body.

It was a long time before Cody stepped away. He didn't say anything.

Harper told him, ‘I'm sorry I made you relive that.' She couldn't not tell him now that he'd shared his horrific story. She owed him that much. ‘Darren said he didn't care about not being able to have children with me. But he changed his mind and got another woman pregnant before he left me. Kind of like insurance, making sure the next woman in his life was fertile.' The past was sour in her mouth. ‘I should be over this by now. I guess I am in some ways, but I'll never trust another man about this again.'

More hurt spilled into Cody's eyes.

She was sorry for that, but the truth needed to be put between them. ‘Don't take it personally. It's just I couldn't stand to have my heart broken again.'

‘You think I can?'

‘I understand you can't.'

‘So where does that leave us?' he asked.

She swore under her breath. She loved him. But... ‘Even knowing each other's history, understanding the pain we've both been through, caring about each other...' She
thought
he cared for her. ‘What you and I have had isn't going anywhere. It can't. There's a fundamental flaw in us having a long-term relationship. You would like a family. I can't have one.' She had to remind him, to put it out there again, just so that he didn't try to avoid it. ‘End of.'

‘Thanks for nothing, Harper.'

‘Cody.' she sighed. She could go on explaining herself, but what was the point? He'd understand more than most how she didn't want to be hurt again. But would he understand she didn't want to hurt
him
? ‘Can you take me back to my family?'

* * *

Cody wanted to race the bike down the motorway, break every speed restriction there was, go so fast he couldn't think.

But he didn't. Common sense prevailed. Just.

So Harper went home with him—in his head. Her words sliced him to shreds. They were finished. On her terms.
End of
.

‘End of what, Harper?' he yelled as he flung the bike around the corner of his street. ‘I go and fall in love with you and you say it's over.'

Not that he'd fessed up to his feelings. That old fear of getting hurt had raised its head the moment he'd opened his mouth to tell her he loved her back there on the beach. He'd wanted to, almost more than anything, but he hadn't been able to say the words.

This morning he'd left home excited to be seeing Harper, and determined to move past the chilly week they'd endured, to resume their affair and move forward. He'd also been looking forward to spending time with her family. They'd drawn him in, made him comfortable and relaxed, eager to share their lives.

But at Jason's place he'd heard the girls arguing, overheard Harper's sister saying she loved him and Harper not denying it. That had caused something deep inside his heart to crack wide open. Love had spilled out, blinding him into thinking it might be possible to banish his fears. Then she'd dropped her bomb. She wasn't having a relationship with him.

Which just went to prove he'd been right to remain uninvolved in the first place. Except he hadn't; he had got in so deep there was no way out.

He loved Harper. No ifs, buts or maybes. He loved her.

And she'd tossed him. Easy as.

No. Be fair
. Not so, if that anger and pain in her eyes was anything to go by. There'd be no going back on her statement, though. Her chin had jutted out in a ‘don't argue' gesture. Her hands had become fists at his waist as they'd ridden back to her brother's house. And her abrupt nod goodbye had been like a knife to his heart.

At home he tore his helmet off and banged it down on the outdoor table by the garage.

Now what? He could open a load of beers and get blind drunk, or he could start on getting that railing fixed. Or he could grab one beer and sort the railing.
Good idea.

He could also try and figure out where to from here with Harper.
Hell
. He slammed his fingers through his hair. He hadn't got over the shock of realising he loved her yet. Loved her so much he'd go to the end of the earth for her.

No, he wouldn't; he couldn't. That was terrifying. Pain had wedged in his heart today but it'd only get worse if he tried to follow through on his feelings. Harper had made his mind up for him about having children; she wasn't letting him decide if he wanted them more than her. Why did she of all people do that? He'd been making his own mind up about everything he did from the day he'd learned to talk, yet she'd just walked all over him.

Which might be why Harper had got under his skin and annoyed the hell out of him. She wasn't even giving him a chance to work out what he wanted, what was best for them both. She'd made a decision and that was that. He was not used to it.

From the day he'd walked out of those school gates he'd worked damned hard, had become wealthy by using his hands and brain and could hold his head high.

Cody drained the beer bottle in his hand and stared up at the building in front of him, waiting for the usual pride to suffuse his chest. This house stood as a testament to his success.

Though it might turn out to be a lonely dwelling if he couldn't have Harper with him. His heart was now hers. What he did about that was still up in the air. Telling her he loved her and asking her to share his life meant exposing his fears. Not tell her, and he'd be giving up his dreams of a loving woman and family at his side. Harper was that woman. As for the children, they'd work something out if they were serious about each other.

Yep, which was why he'd start on nailing up that railing. He always thought best when doing manual work. Hopefully by the end of the day he'd have some answers.

* * *

The next week crept past so slowly, Harper thought she must've slept through a weekend and worked two weeks in a row.

On Friday afternoon she handed over to the incoming shift and slunk away quietly, not looking in Cody's direction once. She couldn't bear to see that sad expression that had been in his eyes every day since Sunday. He'd managed to avoid working with her most of the time, and in the few cases they'd shared he'd been exemplary in his manner towards her.

She hit the supermarket, trying to dredge up enthusiasm for something to cook for dinner. Nothing appealed. Not even ice-cream or chocolate. Ironic, when the week before she'd been pretending to diet, and this week she was struggling to put anything in her mouth.

The meat chillers held nothing to interest her. The deli came up short too. Talk about being picky. Harper crossed to the fish cabinet. Last try before she went home to eat an apple.

‘I do a mean baked salmon and salad.'

The shopping basket clattered to the floor as the voice that had been haunting her every night of the past week caught her attention. ‘Cody.'

He picked up the basket and swung it between them. ‘Do you like salmon?'

What if she did? They weren't sharing a meal, not when they'd barely shared a sentence all week. She tried for a shrug but didn't do so well. ‘Sometimes.'

‘Would tonight be one of those times? With a glass of Pinot Gris? On my veranda overlooking the harbour?' He didn't beg, but there was a lot of entreaty in the way he looked at her.

‘Why?' She had to know if this was a ‘let's make up and be friends' gesture, or something more intense and serious. Or had he come up with his own reasons why they couldn't be together?

‘We need to talk. About a lot of things.' Lightly swinging the basket between them again, he locked those spring-green eyes on her. ‘I've missed you.'

‘You've seen me every day.' Her heart began to thump a little harder and faster than was normal.

‘I've still missed you.'

Her next breath hitched in her throat. Damn the man. He had a way with words. Add in the longing in his eyes, and the softest smile now curving his lips upwards, and what could she say? How could she refuse him when she'd missed him every minute, every second, of the past week? She turned to the woman waiting on the other side of the cabinet. ‘I'll take that whole salmon, thank you.'

Suddenly she was ravenous.

* * *

The small talk Cody and Harper managed for the next hour as they drove to his house and prepared dinner wasn't too bad. They discussed work and her family, and where Harper thought she might go for her summer break that she'd apparently put in for yesterday.

‘Why Rarotonga?' he asked, genuinely puzzled. ‘Now's the windy season, isn't it?'

‘I want lots of beach and warm water, and no paddle-boards.'

‘Your chin looks okay now that the stitches are gone.' The tiny scar on the edge of her jawline was cute, and had him wanting to run his fingertip over it. He refrained from that mad idea. That could be pushing the boundaries. Yet some time tonight he'd have to. There were too many unsaid things lying between them that had to be confronted before he and Harper could move forward—together. He was determined they were heading into the future together.

With the salmon cooking slowly on the barbecue and the salad made, all that needed doing was to blanch the asparagus at the last minute. ‘Let's take our wine outside.'

Harper followed and took a chair opposite him, which kind of suggested she wasn't quite as comfortable yet as he'd hoped.

Leaning across the table, he topped up her glass, then his, sat back and said, ‘When Sadie died so did I.' He saw when she got it.

Her mouth softened and her eyes widened. She reached across the table to slip her hand into his. ‘Go on.'

That was it, really. His chest rose as he drew in air.
Get this over with.
‘I'm afraid of losing someone I love again. That's why I let you push me away with no argument when you said we couldn't have a relationship because of your infertility. I want to change that. To prove I am better than that. To share your life—for ever, if you'll let me.'

She jerked her hand away, her eyes widening as she fixed him with a glare. ‘You're feeling sorry for me?'

His fingers shot through his hair. Would they ever be able to have a conversation without misinterpreting everything? ‘No, Harper. I don't. Well, I do, but my actions aren't based on sympathy.'
What actions? You haven't done anything yet except dig an even bigger hole to climb into.
‘I love you.'

She gaped at him.

He hadn't planned to say that yet; he'd thought he'd work up to it. But now some of the tension gripping him had starting easing, so he said it again. ‘I love you. I knew it from the moment Lowlife held that gun to your head, and when after the initial shock you showed you cared as much for your patient as anything else that was happening. You're one gutsy lady.'

After a couple of beats, she said, ‘I
was
scared witless when that gun banged against my skull.'

‘Still a...'

‘Let me finish.' She rubbed her temples in the way she had when she'd been getting a migraine. ‘I'm scared way beyond that now. I love you too, Cody. Love you with every cell of my body. And that makes me afraid too.'

He didn't relax even as the thrill of hearing those words rolled through him. There was more to come. He saw it in her eyes. And he wasn't going to like it.

‘Because of that, I am walking away from you, from us. I can never ask you to give up your chance of having a family. I can't and I won't. It would be selfish of me.'

‘There are other ways to have children.'

Her head moved back and forth, back and forth, as though warding off his words. ‘I heard that last time, but in the end it didn't happen.'

And she couldn't deal with the heartbreak again. He got it. In spades. He didn't have the words to persuade her to rethink her stance, so he stood and went to her, pulled her into his arms and held her tight, close to him, so they absorbed each other's warmth and tenderness. His chin rested on her head and he closed his eyes, absorbing every little movement she made, every place where her body touched his.

She pressed hard against him, her cheek against his chest, her hands around his waist, her breast moving up and down softly as she breathed.

He inhaled her citrus scent. Remembered that first kiss they'd shared. The kiss that had changed everything for him, had had him wondering if he could take a chance with her. Had had him doing it again at work, of all places.

They stood that way for a long time. Then Cody leaned back in her arms until he could see her face, saw when tears began to streak down her cheeks. Bending forward, he began to kiss her, murmuring, ‘Don't cry, my love,' against her mouth. ‘We're in this together.'

She stilled just as she'd begun nibbling his lip. Her mouth left his, making him feel chilled until he saw the warmth in her eyes.

‘No one's ever said that to me before,' she whispered.

‘It's true. I can't leave you. I won't, unless you push me away. All I ask is that you accept me as I am.' He had to trust that she would.

‘Yes, of course I do.'

‘Harper, will you marry me? Live with me for ever, or at least until I'm old and grey and can't get it up any more to pleasure you?'

Harper's eyes widened in astonishment and a small, nervous laugh escaped her. ‘That is a long way off, I'm sure. I've seen how easily you react to me when we're getting up close.' Then she sobered. ‘What about children?'

‘Sweetheart, there are ways. You know there are.' But he named a couple anyway. ‘Surrogacy, for one. Adoption, for another. Or fostering, if you prefer. Quite frankly, it's more important that I'm with you. I love you so much, it's unbearable to even contemplate not being with you for the rest of my life. Children or no children.'