Sizzling Nights with Dr. Off-Limits (14 page)

She took off walking down the street, glad they were in a part of the city she recognized and that wasn't too many blocks from where she lived.

“Emily, please don't leave me like that.”

He'd followed her. Of course he'd followed her. Had she really thought he wouldn't? Had she even wanted him not to?

She was the problem. Her and her mixed-up emotions.

She wanted him, but she didn't want him. Hadn't her crazy emotions been a problem before, too? She'd not been able to stop the tears, to control the mood surges that had caused her to pick fights with him. Her hormones had been all over the place. She didn't want to remember, didn't want to think about the past, about her relationship with Lucas and how everything had fallen apart. About why everything had fallen apart.

Berating herself and her weakness where he was concerned, she kept walking without answering him.

He grabbed her arm, halting her. “What's wrong, Emily? Talk to me. Please talk to me.”

Now fighting tears that she had no idea where they came from, she shook her head, pulled loose and resumed walking.

He stayed beside her but didn't try to stop her again.

When they reached her building, she turned to him.

“I'm sorry, Lucas. I feel I'm an emotional wreck these days and I just...I just had to get off the bus.” She didn't say
and away from him
, but the words dangled between them.

He studied her. “I've done this to you, haven't I?”

She shrugged. “I'd be lying if I said I was expecting you to show back up in my life. I wasn't prepared for a second emotional roller-coaster ride with you. I don't want to do this anymore. I want my normal, calm life back.”

“You were happier before I came back into your life?”

“Yeah, I was,” she said and meant it. At least, she thought she did. At the moment, everything was swirling in her mind. “Continuing this only spells disaster for me and I want off the ride before we crash.”

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

L
UCAS
HAD
CONSIDERED
skipping out on Kevin Rogers's funeral but in the end had opted to attend.

Currently, he sat in a church pew, listening to the pastor doing the funeral service recite accounts of the little boy's life and how he'd been a blessing to his parents.

Surprisingly, Emily sat next to him. She wore a pretty black dress that was classy and made her eyes sparkle like emeralds.

He wasn't holding her hand and was acutely aware of that fact. For that matter, he was acutely aware of the fact that he'd not seen her or spoken to her or kissed her or made love to her for the past two days. He'd done his best to avoid her, to give her what she wanted. He'd stayed away.

She'd been waiting on the steps when he'd arrived at the church. She'd looked tense, as if she didn't want to be there.

She could have not shown. Not Emily. She was always one to fulfill her responsibilities.

Despite how uncomfortable she'd appeared, she'd also taken his breath. Lord, he missed her.

Only the memory of her depression, knowing that he'd caused her sadness, had given him the power to honor her request of staying away. Still, he'd struggled, had wanted to take her in his arms and demand she tell him what it was about him that caused her to hurt inside so much.

Was that why he'd stayed away all these years? Because he'd watched a bubbly young woman turn into a sad, depressed shell of herself and he'd blamed himself?

He should have talked to her back then, explained how he felt, enlisted her parents' help in getting her depression treated. He'd have gone to counseling with her, would have done whatever it took.

Emily deserved a good life, a happy life. If she felt he was a complication she didn't need, that she was happier without him, he'd leave her alone.

Maybe he'd even leave Children's because having to see her would be torture knowing he could never have her.

He'd hate to leave Children's, but he wouldn't submit Emily, or himself, to having to see each other daily. Nor would he submit himself to having to see her meet and fall in love with someone else.

She wanted a husband, kids, a family.

He wanted those things, too. With Emily.

With Emily
, the thought echoed through his mind.

He glanced over at her, thinking he'd just sneak a quick look, but frowned at what he saw.

Emily was crying.

Not tears of a nurse who'd just met a young child once in a surgical suite, but real tears that were ripped from her heart.

Past memories of tears rocked him. Memories of not knowing what to do. Of being helpless to ease her tears.

He wrapped his arm around her shoulders and pulled her closer, hugging her in an embrace he hoped would comfort.

Her tears worsened and Lucas felt lost.

Hadn't her tears always left him feeling lost?

* * *

Who would have dreamed that Emily would someday be sitting in a church with Lucas attending a funeral service for a child?

Not her.

She'd known today was going to be difficult, but she'd not felt right about not attending after she'd said she would. She'd braced herself. But she'd not been prepared for the onslaught of tears that had hit her as she listened to the pastor extol the boy's life and how blessed his parents had been to have him for four years.

Anger flared inside her at the man beside her for not loving her enough to want her to stay. Anger at fate that the baby she'd loved and wanted had been snatched away, too.

Anger mixed with grief so intense she thought she might shrivel up and die.

She wanted out of the church.

Lucas hugged her to him.

She didn't want his hug. Didn't want his comfort.

“Do you want to leave?” he whispered close to her ear.

She shook her head.

Not that she didn't want to leave. She did. Just that she wasn't sure her legs would hold her. If she collapsed to the floor, that would cause a scene at the boy's funeral. She wasn't willing to risk that.

“Emily?” Lucas whispered, obviously not understanding. He couldn't understand. Guilt hit her. But why feel guilty? There had been nothing to be gained by telling him. Knowing would have only possibly hurt him, too. Despite all her pain, she hadn't wanted Lucas to hurt.

She'd kept the pain all to herself.

Shaking her head, she held up her hand, silencing him.

His expression was worried. His arm tightened around her body.

The glass house Emily had been living inside for the past five years cracked, then shattered all around her as grief she'd kept buried burst free and let loose an explosion of emotions.

* * *

The funeral service ended and Lucas let out a sigh of relief. Had he known how upset attending was going to make Emily, he'd never have asked her to go with him.

He felt horrible that he'd subjected her to the funeral and helpless as she'd silently sobbed.

Had she never been to a funeral before? Perhaps not. He'd only been to a handful. His grandparents. A few family friends. A few patients. None had ever affected him the way Emily mourned for a child she hadn't known. Maybe that said something about the way he viewed life, viewed death. Or maybe it was more a sign of how she viewed those things. Emily had a big heart, always had.

“Excuse me,” she said. She stood and made her way out of the chapel without a backward glance.

Watching her go, Lucas still battled confusion. Losing a patient was hard, especially such a senseless death as the young boy's had been. At least the hit-and-run taxi driver had been caught and arrested.

No matter how he tried, Lucas couldn't understand Emily's quiet sobs. He'd spent most of the service trying to figure out why she was so upset, but kept coming up with more questions.

Then again, he'd never understood her tears.

That she was gone from outside the church entrance didn't surprise him.

She'd told him to leave her alone, and he would. But he needed to make sure she was okay from the emotional beating she'd endured during the funeral.

His heart ached. How was he supposed to ignore how her body had silently shaken with tears? How was he supposed to walk away with that having been the last time he'd touched her?

He needed to tell her how he felt. Even if it was only for her to laugh and reject him and tell him to leave, he owed it to Emily and to himself to tell her everything.

That was when he saw her, standing several hundred yards down the street. Apparently, she'd taken off walking, then decided to wait on a taxi when she'd recalled how far away they were from her apartment.

Even from the distance, he could tell she still cried.

He flagged down a taxi, got inside and then had the driver pull over to pick up Emily.

She got inside and pulled the door closed.

Lucas told the driver the address to Emily's place. She glanced up at him, obviously startled to see him inside the cab. Had she been so upset that she hadn't realized he was there?

She swiped at the tears running down her cheeks. “How do you just show up wherever I do?”

“This time it was intentional,” he admitted. “I had the driver pull over to pick you up.”

She turned away from him and pretended to stare out the window, but he suspected she really did so to hide her tearstained face.

“I'm taking you home, Emily,” he told her, keeping his voice gentle but firm. “Then you and I are going to talk. I'm going to tell you a few things I've discovered about me, you, and about us. You're going to tell me what upset you so much at that funeral. When we're through talking, I'll leave and I'll turn my notice in at Children's, if that's what you want. For that matter, I'll leave Manhattan if you think the city isn't big enough for the both of us. But prior to my stepping out of your life forever, we are going to talk.”

* * *

Lucas was so wrong if he thought Emily was going to tell him why she'd started bawling and hadn't been able to quit.

So very wrong.

What would be the point of telling him after all this time? There was nothing he could do to change the past. Nothing good could come out of telling him. Only more pain.

Pain she already lived with.

Pain she wasn't even sure he'd feel.

Or that she hadn't believed he would feel for so many years. Now she wasn't so sure.

Having seen him with Cassie, Jenny, with his other patients, she had to question what she'd always believed. Over the years, she'd convinced herself that Lucas would have been glad their baby had died. It was how she'd dealt with the loss of him and their child.

Sitting next to him in that church, listening to that boy's funeral, that conviction had been buried.

Lucas wouldn't have wanted their baby to die.

That she'd ever believed so to begin with had been hormones and perhaps a coping mechanism to deal with her grief over losing her husband and her baby so closely together.

She'd needed him at the last funeral service she'd attended. He should have been there, but hadn't.

Despite her grief, she recognized he couldn't have been there even if he'd wanted, because he hadn't known about the small service only three guests had attended. Emily and her parents.

She choked back more tears at the memories, at the overwhelming sense of loss. “I was pregnant.”

Dear God, had she really just said that out loud in the back of a taxi two blocks from her apartment? Talk about inappropriate. Talk about bad timing.

Lucas's face went ashen. “I didn't hear you, Emily.”

Now was her chance. Just tell him it was nothing. That she hadn't even spoken. That what he thought he'd heard, then dismissed as having been wrong, had indeed been incorrect.

“I was pregnant,” she repeated a little louder than her first whispered admission. She turned away from him, unable to bear his confused expression, and stared blankly out the taxi window.

What was wrong with her? She couldn't stop crying and now she couldn't stop saying things she shouldn't be saying.

She didn't need to be looking at Lucas to feel his tension, to know that his entire body had stiffened.

“When?” If she hadn't known who was sitting in the back of the taxi next to her, she wouldn't have recognized his voice. He sounded distant, removed, like a stranger.

He was a stranger. Five years ago, he'd told her to leave, she had, and then he'd divorced her. Five years in which they'd had no contact whatsoever. Just because he'd jumped back into her life and into her bed didn't mean a thing.

Not a thing.

Except that once again she was crying.

She turned, met his gaze and spoke low but clearly. “When you told me the very last thing you wanted was for me to have your baby.”

* * *

Lucas stared into Emily's tear-streaked, puffy face.

She'd been pregnant.

His baby had been growing inside her.

He'd told her he didn't want her to have his baby.

She'd already been pregnant.

Understanding of so much from the past hit him. Understanding of her silent sobs at the funeral.

She'd been pregnant, but there was no baby.

His insides crumbled. “What happened to our baby?”

Emily's face paled to a ghostly white. Her mouth dropped open, but she didn't speak. Her face contorted in pain and guilt hit him that he asked, yet he had to know.

“I'm sorry.” He felt as if that was all he said where Emily was concerned.
I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry.

He was sorry.

So very sorry.

“I didn't know you were pregnant, Emily.”

“I know.” Her voice was a broken sob and she reached for the taxi's door handle, no doubt preparing to jump out the moment the taxi stopped outside her upcoming apartment building.

Lucas reached in his pocket, pulled out a twenty and tossed it up to the driver through the window as he followed Emily out of the car.

She went inside the building and he followed her, unable to leave, but not sure he had any right to be there.

Yes, he did have a right.

She'd been pregnant with his baby. He deserved to know more, to know the details of what had happened to their child.

Without a word, they rode up the elevator together, then she unlocked her apartment door and he followed her inside.

She tossed her over-the-shoulder handbag onto her sofa, then turned to face him. Tears streaked down her face still, gutting him. How many tears had he caused her to shed?

“Tell me what happened.”

She shook her head. “It was a long time ago. I never should have said anything. You don't need to know.”

For the first time a spark of anger hit him. She'd been pregnant with his baby and hadn't told him. Now she was telling him he didn't need to know about their child because it had been a long time ago?

“I'm not leaving until you tell me.” His voice broke as he spoke. How did he convey that he felt grief over the loss of a child he hadn't even known about until minutes before? That he felt grief that she'd dealt with that loss by herself when he should have been there. “You should have told me years ago.”

“Why?”

“Because I deserved to know.” Had he really? He wasn't sure. But he should have known. He should have been able to look at her, his wife, and have known his baby was growing inside of her.

“How did it happen?”

Her eyes narrowed defensively. “I didn't get pregnant on purpose, if that's what you're asking. I know that's what your parents would have thought if they'd known, but we always used protection. Always.”

She'd talked about having a baby so often, hadn't he worried that was what she'd do? Hadn't he quit coming home for fear that she'd purposely get pregnant? Instead, she'd already been pregnant and had wanted him to show some sign that he might be happy about the news. He never had, and she hadn't told him that it was already a done deal.